The Last Laugh

May 27, 2022

"He who laughs last, laughs best..."

2011 was an interesting year for our household. In the space of a few short months we went from no pets to three. A dainty little tuxedo cat, showed up as a stray at the back door one morning in June. She must have decided she liked us as she soon took up residence in the garage. Noting her white paws we decided to call her Mitzie. It wasn’t more than a couple of weeks that Mitzie gave birth to two kittens. One kitten was sadly killed on the road, but the other, bearing a striking resemblance to Sylvester of Bugs Bunny fame, grew to be a big tom, who we named Sam.

It wasn’t more than a month or so after the arrival of the cats that Maggie arrived. Maggie was a 4 year old Havanese. Havanese, we learned, were the official dog of Cuba. Our friends who ran a dog breeding business had decided to retire her from puppy production and were looking for a good home for her. We were delighted, as we had put down our previous dog, Digger, only a couple of years before and the house was pretty quiet.

I am pretty sure that Maggie must have missed that day in doggie school. You know, the day when all dogs are carefully instructed to hate all cats; that all felines are to be regarded as mortal enemies of the canine species.  Instead, Maggie quickly warmed up to Mitzie and Sam. The cats may have taken a bit longer to make the adjustment but after a week or two they were fast friends. We had gone from zero to three pets in the space of a few months. Life was good.

One of the downsides of living in the country is that stray animals seem to show up quite regularly. Of course, we never catch them in the act but I expect that many of these animals are simply dropped off by irresponsible owners who simply open the car door and leave the poor creature to fend for itself. This, we surmise, is how Mitzie came to be meowing on our back step. Cats, if they don’t find a home, or succumb to the elements, can become feral.

And so it was a couple of years after Mitzie, Sam and Maggie came to live with us that a feral cat showed up in our yard. This is not unusual and often they will be seen for a day or two and then move on. This one, for some reason, perhaps access to the cat's food dish, decided to stay. We tried to shoo it away but it continued to dwell in the outbuildings and trees, sneaking in at opportune times for a quick bite of food or to take a swipe at Sam. 

It was when we repeatedly heard them fighting in the night that I knew it was time to take further action. Poor Sam was limping and both cats were looking stressed. Although I am not a hunter and I don’t like killing animals, as a teenager I had learned how to shoot gophers using my dad’s 22 rifle. I borrowed this same gun, which had now been passed to my nephew, Jim, and planned my ambush. 

With Sam and Mitzie safely locked in the garage and Maggie in the house, I put some nice fresh chicken in a dish in the backyard. Leaning out the laundry room window with the gun provided me with a perfect view and short range. Soon, Mr. Feral Cat came slinking out for a tasty snack. All it took was one shot. Although it happened in the blink of an eye, I can still see it. The cat jumped straight up in the air and spun and I was sure that he was going to fall over dead. But then it appeared that in his gyrations that he spied me leaning out the window and I sensed that he was going to play one more card before expiring… which is exactly what he did. About 20 feet away was the garden shed, a rather small building that sat on 2 skids that elevated it about a foot off the ground. I’m not sure if it was by luck or design the Mr. Feral Cat chose a spot right under the middle of the shed to finally expire.

I quickly realized that there was no way that I could leave him there to decompose. With the shed not far from the house, the smell would have been unbearable. But try as I might I could not reach him, to retrieve his corpse. Ultimately, there was no choice. I got out the chainsaw and cut a hole in the floor of the shed in order to recover the remains of Mr. Feral Cat! And strangely, in my mind's eye, I can still see him, lieing there under the shed, with a curious expression on his feline face. Surely, he died with a grin, for he must have known that he had the last laugh!