Hercules: The Loaner Cat

Hercules is a loaner cat.

            He was supposed to be just passing through until his owner, our son, got settled in an apartment that would allow pets. After two years, that still hasn’t happened, so Hercules, the fourteen-pound solid grey cat with green eyes, walks on my keyboard when he is hungry or bored or wants his extreme good looks to be noted and appreciated.

            After decades of being a dog family, my husband and I are in love with a cat.

            When people come to visit, Herc, as we call him, scurries downstairs to greet them. He stands in the kitchen as if he were a guest holding a beer and chatting before dinner. His loud meows interrupt the conversation when it shifts away from his looks and personality. He wants all eyes on him and that is what he gets. Our house, already blessed with two retired sled dogs, has become Herc’s domain.

            At first, we sent pictures of Herc to our son every day, Herc looking out the window, climbing the cat tree, batting a ribbon. It felt like a kid at camp sending postcards home. “Having fun!” “I rode a horse today!” “Okay if I stay an extra week?” It seemed a nice thing to do since Herc’s visit was temporary. Meanwhile, Herc studied ways to ingratiate himself with us and the dogs.

            We started to take Herc with us on the long drive to our cabin up north. He sits in the cat carrier between us in our truck, squawks in protest for a minute or two, and then settles in for the long ride. He lies down, folds his front paws under his chest, and snoozes. Every now and then, he looks up to check that we and the dogs are still there. “Hey Herc,” we say, and he goes back to sleep. Our little traveler.

            We put a location device on Herc’s collar in case he gets lost and changed the contact information, just in case. We take him to a vet where he’s filed under our name. We clean his litter box every night and let him walk around our pillows in the morning to wake us up. He greets us at the back door when we come home and perches on the piano while we watch TV.

            When our son visits, Herc rubs up against his leg and purrs. But we don’t discuss Herc’s status as a loaner cat or wonder aloud when our son will find a pet friendly apartment. We hope landlords across the city turn against cats. No cats allowed anywhere. We wish. Anyway, the less said about Herc’s residency the better. We just keep our mouths shut and live in the moment.