When my brother Paul died in 2007, my parents inherited one of his cats. He called it “Jooj,” which is pronounced as it looks. I don’t really recall my parents calling her anything. I thought I remember they renamed her “Priscilla,” but I never heard them say, “Come here, Priscilla.” I could be wrong. My father did say things like, “Hey you, get off there!” if Jooj climbed up on the dining room table, or his computer desk also located in the dining room. This was a far cry from what he used to do to our first cat, Tobor (“that’s robot spelled backwards,” from a cartoon we used to watch). I recall him throwing Tobor, a nearly feral male tabby who upset our next door neighbor by killing birds and bringing them to our back door as tribute, down the basement stairs once at dinner. Jooj is much more of a lady, all white, and like many cats, imperious–she thinks she owns the place, which, she does.

I speak of Jooj in the present tense because she’s still alive, having outlived my parents and my brother. She currently resides with another brother and his wife and children in a 100+ year old historic home in Lakewood, OH.

Why am I telling you this? First, to relate a story on a lighter note. Maybe it will make you smile or chuckle. A cat story.

When my father died in 2015, Jooj became even more important to my mother, who seemed obsessed with feeding her all the time. I often found several tins of cat food, preserved with plastic wrap, but open, in her refrigerator, as if she sought to find what Jooj found appetizing on given days. Jooj also had a favorite seat on the footrest of my Mom’s recliner, while my mother was sitting there, of course.

On one of my visits, probably winter of 2016, Jooj disappeared. I can’t remember if it happened while I was there or after I left, but I heard about it. I feared Mom thought I let Jooj out accidentally, but I had no idea where she’d gone. A few weeks later, I visited again. Outside, temperatures were below freezing. As usual, Mom greeted me at the back door to our house. Our house! That’s a whole other topic. I don’t have anywhere to go “home” anymore. But I’ll saver that for later…just think of countless times my parents, or just my mother, greeted me at that back door. Mom said Jooj was still missing–maybe she’d gone up into the rafters of our attic to die?

Anyway, I hadn’t been home more than a few minutes, hadn’t even taken off my boots, when we both heard a loud meowing and a pawing at the screen door.

It was Jooj! Where had she been? Mom conjectured someone had taken her in for awhile. But I have no idea. Crazy cat. It was just funny to me because this happened within minutes of my arrival.

“Hey, let me in, will ya? I’m freezing my tushy off out here!”