I'm not really a cat person. (Actually I'm not really an animal person at all.) But about 18 months ago, I agreed to chaperone a Girl Scout field trip to the Humane Society and there was this little gray kitten there named Smokey.
For some reason, I couldn't stop thinking about this kitten. About two days after the field trip, I was still thinking about Smokey and how his days were probably numbered. So I took Mike to the Humane Society and showed him the kitten.
For some crazy reason, we decided to adopt Smokey. "Cats are a whole lot easier to take care of than dogs," I reasoned. Plus, we felt the lesson in responsibility would be good for the kids. Their first responsibility was to re-name the kitten. They chose Dungy after the then-coach of the Indianapolis Colts.
Even though Dungy had been a stray, we decided that he would be an indoor cat. So we had his front claws removed to protect our furniture. And for several months, we were all very happy. Then spring arrived and Dungy began crying to go outside. I had no idea a cat could meow so loudly and so persistently. So we let him out.
At first Dungy stayed in our yard. Then he started venturing to the house next door, often meowing to be let inside there. They often obliged. Guess it takes a village to raise a cat, too.
About nine months after Smokey became Dungy, I got a call from a neighbor a few houses down. She had painters at her house and they'd left the front door open. Dungy took that as an open invitation and wandered into her house. She was newly pregnant and worried about being around a cat, so I quickly went and retrieved our feline trespasser.
Since then, Dungy has gotten more adventurous in his escapades, going as far as a block away. I know because every couple of weeks we get a phone call from someone the street over asking if we've lost our cat, saying they've got him. Sometimes instead of a call, civic-minded little girls come walking up to our front door, errant cat in arms.
All of this is a little confusing to me. I thought the whole point of having a cat was that they didn't need a leash or a fence. I thought opening the door and letting them roam was what you did with cats, that they'll come home when they are ready. If that's true, then why do people keep calling asking if our cat is lost?
So c'mon cat people (and cat haters), enlighten me. Should I not let him outside any more? Should I take off his collar so people quit calling to tell me he is alive?
