But she had to get up. Her situation was getting very desperate. If she didn't find food - and find some very soon - she wasn't going to live to see many more late winter mornings.
She wasn't quite sure how she had gotten into this predicament. After all, she was Himalayan, with a long creamy white coat, chocolate fur on her face, ears, and feet. Her eyes were a piercing blue color. She had been beautiful once upon a time, and she had been loved.
But then something happened that she didn't understand. First her old woman had gone away, and now her old man no longer opened the door to let her in. There were strangers who occasionally came to her house. She didn't know them, and she didn't trust them. So she had taken refuge in the thicket.
But doing without the comforts provided by the old woman and the old man had taken a heavy toll on her. Her flea collar had long since stopped working, and her pretty pink collar, studded with rhinestone-shaped kitty footprints when new, was dirty and missing several jewels. It chafed her neck where her long hair had gotten tangled around it. Her once beautiful coat was matted and pulling loose from her skin in places. Worst of all, she was starving.
She had roamed the thicket for a while now. She had wandered as far as the paved road, sometimes sitting on the shoulder watching the comings and goings of the people who lived in her neighborhood.
She had passed by one house where she knew she might find some food. She had considered going to that house, but there were risks in showing herself there. The house had other cats, but it also had three large dogs. Several times she made her way from the thicket across the field to the edge of the yard. She sat and watched the routine of the house, and watched where the dogs were likely to be, and listened for the woman at the house to put out food for the cats.
But it was clear to her now that going to that house was her best, and perhaps only option. She had to eat. She left the shelter of the thicket, and made her way through the field to the edge of the yard where she hid in the tall grass, waiting for the woman to put out food for her cats.
It was late that evening when the woman finally came out. Her desperation overcame her fear, and she dashed across the yard and launched herself right into the middle of the food bowls. She was frantic as she grabbed the food. "What's this?" the woman exclaimed. "What are you doing here?" But the woman didn't scold her, and didn't try to chase her away. Instead, the woman put another small scoop of food out for her, then stood back to watch. "You're starving to death, aren't you," the woman said with a troubled frown.
She finished the food, but tonight she didn't go back to the thicket. She found a safe hiding place on the woman's carport and settled down for the night.
Over the next few days, the woman put out food for her, away from the other cats and safe from the dogs. The woman talked to her, and tried to pet her, but she was careful not to let the woman get too close. After all, she didn't know her, and she didn't trust her.
The weather was becoming more unsettled as winter gave way to spring, and one afternoon heavy clouds moved in. Certainly it was going to rain. She had endured the rain many times, and her hiding spot on the carport would surely keep her dry. But the woman came to the door and called, "Here kitty, kitty, kitty...." The door was open. The house was warmer, and it was dry. She slipped through the doorway into the woman's house.
Thankfully, the woman didn't try to pet her again. Instead, the woman rattled a small dish of food and led her into another room. The woman knew what cats needed. There was a water bowl, and a clean litter box, and a large couch with a soft crocheted afghan over it. The woman sat down the bowl of food. She heard the woman say "I'll call you Sassy," as she left the room.
Was Sassy her name? It really didn't matter. The woman took care of her, even if she was rather annoying. The woman took off the used-up flea collar (it was good to be rid of it). But then the woman stole the pink collar too. The woman didn't like the matted up hair, and would often interrupt a nice nap with the snip, snip, snip of scissors cutting the mats loose. When she had endured all of this that she could stand, she would hiss at the woman. Usually it worked. The woman would leave for a little while and let her sleep.
The days passed. One week went by, then another. It was a cold night, and she had gotten to know the woman. She had begun to trust her. As the woman settled down in bed, she lightly jumped up onto the woman's shoulder and lay there, watching as the woman fell asleep.
It was a Saturday morning, one of the warmest days of the young spring. She wasn't starving anymore, and she felt more like her old self than she had in a long, long time. She went to the door and called to the woman. "Do you want to go out?" the woman asked her. Such a question...not worthy of an answer. But the woman seemed to understand, and opened the door. She stepped outside and heard the woman close the door behind her.
She made her way through the field, and late that evening, when the woman began to worry and to wonder where she had gone, she got up from her nap, stretched the long, lazy stretch of a cat who really didn't think waking up was that great of an idea. She wasn't concerned that the woman was watching from the kitchen window of the house. As twilight set in, she carefully groomed the beautiful chocolate fur around her face. Then with a final stretch, she walked to the edge of the field and disappeared into the thicket. She did not look back.
Update 9/28/2013 - The woman finally saw the cat she called Sassy again in July. The cat looked healthy enough, and she showed herself several more times during the last days of the summer. But on September 28, the woman saw Sassy for the last time. The cat's body lay in the grass on the side of the road. The woman did not know what had happened...perhaps the cat had been hit by a car, or perhaps the large dogs in the neighborhood had finally caught her. The woman gave Sassy a final refuge, burying her under the old oak tree.
