A few years ago I took an old picnic cooler, cut a square hole in one corner large enough for a cat to go through, put an old blanket on the bottom, and set it on our back step. It was meant as a shelter for our cats if they were outside in cold or stormy weather.
Tuesday morning Chris opened the door to let Angus and Poolie go outside. A half-grown kitten emerged from the cat shelter and walked in the open door. He has made himself right at home here, even though we’re not sure we need another cat. Angus and Pookie are especially dubious about that.
He is obviously accustomed to being a house cat and has been well cared for, though probably went a day or two without food. He is going to be big, his ancestry is probably largely Norwegian Forest cat, (I had to look that up, I knew there was a long-haired Norwegian cat with a ruff, the only name that came to mind was Norwegian Elkhound and that’s a dog so it couldn’t be right.)
If he had been a stray that long hair would be messy and matted, and it wasn’t. He didn’t wander in from the farm next door (we asked) and the next closest house is a kilometre away. Chris’s guess is that he is getting to the age that he should be neutered and the previous owner didn’t want to pay the vet bill.
He is gentle, friendly, playful, cute and pushes himself into the middle of whatever is happening. Chris thinks we should call him Frosty, for the colour of the fur on his back. I’m afraid that if we give him a name that means we have accepted him as part of the family.
We used to have a nice screen door. We still have the door, but it’s not so nice anymore. The wind slammed it against the railing, more than once. I tried to straighten it, but it will never fit right again. Then the latch mechanism wore out. It would cost a lot to replace the latch and the door is no longer worth that kind of repair. So I installed plain handles inside and out and an old-fashioned screen door catch that goes snap! when we open the door and snap! when we close it.
One of our cats has always been wary of doors. Angus is afraid there might be something scary on the other side; he approaches with caution and peers to see what might be out there before stepping through the open door. The snap! the door now makes has unnerved him. He comes to the door and meows to come in. Before I even open the door, he has run halfway down the walk. I guess it’s the back door for Angus from now on. At least until he gets used to the snap! of the front door.
Pookie, our other cat, trusts that whatever we have done to that door is not any danger to him. He is not going to let a snap! stop him from going through an open door.
This has got me to wondering – when God shows me an open door, am I like Angus? Or am I like Pookie?