I delayed my decision till Christmas Eve day, when I decided I had to have her, because if I didn't I'd be thinking about her and regretting it. They were closed on Christmas Eve day. What if someone had already adopted her?
The day after Christmas I went to the mobile adoption fair in Mendocino to see if she was still available, and there she was, ready to become mine, as much as a cat ever can.
Hazel turned out to be a bit of a comedian. When Trudie arrived, Hazel sniffed her tail and then smacked her nose, sending Trudie yelping away. The dog never fully trusted her after that, rarely looking at her directly, but Hazel was comradely in her superior position, and when I opened the garage door after a long day, she and Trudie would run down the hall together toward the kitchen. Hazel would hear the jingle of Trudie's tags or the click of her toenails on the kitchen floor, and she'd crouch down just out of sight around the living room corner and jump out at Trudie with a body laugh. She later did the same thing with the 2 big chickens, just to see them flap.
(When we got the baby chicks we had to start squirting water at her when she stalked them. She's gotten the idea, I hope.)
Playing "mighty hunter," Hazel has brought home her share of dead little trophies, sometimes making the gesture of sharing them with me -- the headless gopher on the front porch, for example -- but mostly she enjoys her kills in solitude. The songbirds (about 4 in the time I've had her) always make me feel sad and conflicted. I rescued one from her, setting the poor shaking thing in a bush next door, but I held out little hope it would live.
For a long time she didn't know her own size when her veldt fantasies took over. I saw her stalk a raven, the huge black bird nearly twice her length. When it flew up to the feeder board on the back deck and scolded her, she got up on the railing and swatted at it. My heart was in my mouth because the beaks on those things are about 3 inches long and the birds are known for their ornery ways. That one flew away, but a few days later I was watching some deer browse in the back yard, and saw Hazel start to creep up on them! I wasn't close enough to hear, but the little buck swiveled his ears at her and I got the feeling she was talking some trash. He came closer to her and she rolled over on her back. I had the feeling he was going to stomp her, and sure enough, a delicate and precise flash of the hoof and she beat it back under the deck.
When Frank first brought his dog over, Hazel wanted to play with Sturmz as he dozed on the floor. Frank, unsure about how Sturmz would react, bellowed at her, "NO!" For months she remained offended, glaring at Frank at every opportunity and spurning any attempt he made at friendship. (Now she deigns to let him pet her.) Meanwhile she went through a phase where she viewed Sturmz only from the roof. Then she came down and made her way past the big black nose to get where she was going, stopping to sniff his brushy tail and bat it once or twice. It's an unresolved relationship, one in which Sturmz seems to see "prey" and Hazel seems to see "playmate." We try to keep them both safe, but sometimes it feels like touch and go.
Sometimes Hazel can be patient and forebearing -- I've seen 7-year-old Beth, my Little Sister, pick her up and haul her around like a sack of potatoes while Hazel just purrs. Sometimes Hazel acts a bit more like a dog than a cat -- she comes running to meet me when I drive up.
There are times when I look at her and she takes my breath away, the lines of her body or the sapphire of her eyes. I tend to fret if she doesn't come in before I go to bed, realizing how much I love her and how I'd miss her if she didn't come back. Trudie awakened my compassion, but Hazel opens my heart.
No comments:
Post a Comment