Molly the Gardening Cat

Molly the Gardening Cat

     Late February on Vancouver Island is often mild and sunny and my fingers were itchy for the feeling of soil and shovels. I had purchased a Skyrocket Juniper tree from the local nursery, gathered my gardening gear and headed out to the back yard.  I dug through the moist earth and hoisted stubborn stones.  The hole that I had managed to create was about two feet wide but only a scant foot deep.  Still, I needed a quick rest. I straightened up and stretched and then, “Well, hello there,” I said to the black and white cat that had joined me at the edge of my digging.

     She was not the smallest bit interested in me but was totally engaged - leaning into the hole and surveying its depths from a variety of angles as she move slowly around its periphery.

     I have to assume that she was satisfied with my workmanship because she stayed at the site for the remainder of the time that I continued to dig and to plant the tree.  We chatted, “So.  Now we have a new tree.  I hope it takes.  It should look really nice in the summer and give us shade, at least, when it’s a bigger.  What do you think?” I asked her.

     The next day, as I watered the fledgling tree and began transferring bulbs, my new friend returned.  She stood at my side and as I planted, she inspected each hole and she moved with me as I worked my way down the path.

     “I see you have a helper,” said my partner as she joined me in the garden. “She’s in rough shape.  She really needs a good grooming.”

     “And she smells,” I added.  “She obviously lives with someone who smokes.”

     Molly was a long haired cat, whose fur was a petrified mass standing out from her body in a tangle of angles and knots. 

     For several days she returned, checked my work and then disappeared back to wherever she was living.

     The following week, as I looked out the widow, I saw the cat lying dead under the back steps. 
    “That cat!” I said and we both rushed outside – to what purpose, I am not sure, but out we went. Molly was lying on her stomach.  Her eyes were closed.  “I’ll get a towel to wrap her in,” I said, “and bring her inside.”

     Molly lay limp.

                                                           ..... stay  tuned.....