A Boy Named Cupcake, Part One

...and actually, the boy in today's story was called Cupcake #2.  That was at first, when he was adopted by a very old lady, who had for many years owned cats, and always named them Cupcake.   Well, Cupcake didn't know it when he was a wee kitten adopted by an old grandma in the early stages of Alzheimer's ... but he would go on to be a Father of many cat generations.  I don't mean that he wasn't neutered (lol); many of us house-cats are, and he was no exception.   What I mean is, his life of survival and adventure leading eventually to a wonderful forever haven, a true home after so much tumult ... I think it makes him a symbolic forefather to us younger cats!


But let's begin at the beginning!  Unfortunately, Cupcake's first six months of life with Grandma were chaotic.  Oh, he was well-loved by his owner, and always fed and given fresh water.  Grandma had been a cat-lover and -owner for so long, the habits of caring for feline friends were well-ingrained in her memory.  Sadly, it was the more recent memories that she began to lose first (alas, Grandma was my human mom's Grandma, so I will let Mom tell her own tale of life with Grandma ... I will tell the tale of the boy named Cupcake).  But although Cupcake #2 was fed and watered and loved, Grandma was always unpredictable, given the ebb and flow of her mind.  Sometimes she would scurry in and out of the house all day long on errands Cupcake #2 knew nothing about.  Other times, she would remain inside all day, and he didn't know what the routine would be.


On Sundays, Grandma's family would come to visit.  That is when the family saw that she was in failing health, and that each week she was worse.  My mom rarely even saw Cupcake #2, because if he wasn't hiding from the strangers -- and everyone but Grandma was certainly a stranger -- Grandma was banishing him anyway (everyone in the family except my mom has bad cat allergies) with a brisk: "Cupcake, to the basement!"  She had water and toys and food and litter for him down there, but mostly it was barren, a land of cold, unfinished floor and underground and laundry smells.  It wasn't Cupcake #2's favorite place to be, but nor was being around the family.  So he would spend Sunday afternoons napping in a small patch of sunlight that slipped cautiously through the above-ground window near his basement ceiling, and lapping up some food when he awoke.  Soon enough, it would be time; the door would be opened, the scents and sounds of family would be gone, and Grandma would welcome him back upstairs into his world.  


But then It happened... well, the first It of Cupcake's young life... one day the family arrived to find that Grandma had been making a habit of either not eating at all for a whole day (forgetting to do so) and / or preparing inappropriate meals such as canned cat food for herself.  After a painful process, Grandma's family had to move her to a home where she would have help from professionals in caring for herself.  Cupcake #2 of course could not accompany her there.   Grandma's mind was slipping away so badly that she was incapable of remembering the sad parting after a time.  But Cupcake #2 was confused and saddened by it for a great while.


Some might say that the following year or so (for no one knows or can recall the exact amount of months that passed) is when Cupcake #2 became a true adult Tomcat, a "man" on his own.  He was never sure how he felt about it; being independent by nature, he was usually fine.  He remained in his home, but no one else lived there, no cats or animals of any sort, and no humans either.  On certain days, Cupcake #2 wasn't sure he liked being "independent" allll the time.  He had been domesticated, was born of a domestic house-cat mother, among domestic litter-mates.  He missed having people around, or a person at least.  He even missed having a couple of cats around, as he recalled having had when he was nestled in nursing with his brothers as a baby. 


There was The Man though.  The Man (Grandma's son, as it turned out) came every other day and put fresh, delicious food (special kinds!  treats!  new flavors!) out for Cupcake #2, replenished his water, and stayed to pet and play with him if Cupcake would allow it.  Usually, however, he did not allow it.  After all, Cupcake didn't know The Man very well, and he didn't live with him.  He appreciated the food and sustenance, but he preferred most of the time to prowl about his territory on his own.  Sometimes humans could be unpredictable, that he knew somehow, instinctively.


Thus it was for many months, Cupcake #2 and The Man sort of co-habitating and co-existing.  The Man came frequently, sometimes more than every other day, to do something with lots of papers and files and such.  He spoke on the phone and did lots of things outside in the yard.  Cupcake #2 watched all of this from behind the TV, which was warm, when The Man was inside; and he watched from a favorite bedroom window when The Man was outside.  


More than once, Cupcake #2 heard The Man say his name while talking on the telephone like Grandma used to do.  Cupcake #2 never completely liked the phone, because it always took attention away from him.  When Grandma used to talk on it, he would meow and nuzzle and leap onto her lap, with only lukewarm petting and results for his efforts.  But with The Man on the phone, and talking about HIM no less, Cupcake #2 took interest... he heard The Man asking many times what the phone thought he should do with Cupcake #2.  He heard The Man say to the telephone that he felt sad that Cupcake #2 lived alone and that his own family could not allow him to live with them and their allergies.  He even heard The Man begin to ask the phone if it knew someone good who might like to "take" Cupcake #2.  This last bit was something the meaning of which the feline puzzled for days ...


... For days until it left his mind out of necessity.  Because he had to use everything in his mind and body to survive what happened next ....