Keeping Pete

We’re going to keep him, this prodigal cat.

Even my skeptical husband came around after comparing Pete’s baby picture to the real-life version hanging out with us as though six years haven’t passed.

I’m getting old enough to stop questioning these types of ironically perfect events. Who the hell am I to question why? Pete came home. It could be the end of the story, but it’s just the beginning.

Have you ever gone to a reunion and instantly recognized someone when you looked into their eyes?

They may have gained weight and lost hair, but the instant your eyes meet, you’re like, “Oh, my gosh!” and blurt out their name without having to think.

Seeing Pete on the deck outside the living room door wall was exactly like that. Playing back the scene in slo-mo confirms my gut reaction not my critical thinking.

I hadn’t paid attention to his markings. His coloring hadn’t hit me. All I saw was Pete via his eyes. I’m more of a dog person, but I’m going with something along the lines of feeling like I connected with the core of his being. I just knew it was Pete.

The way he was holding me as much as I was holding him was astonishing. I kept propping him up on my chest, swaying back and forth like you do when you’re holding a baby, and instead of his arm flopping over my upper arm, he had his paw gently curled around it. He did it several times throughout the afternoon. At one point, I asked my daughter to time it — two entire minutes.

We kept trying to talk ourselves out of it. We grabbed his baby picture from six years ago and held it next to his face. Everything is the same; he’s just darker. Underneath the dark fur is the color he was when he was a kitten. The spot on his nose that fades from dark to light is exactly the same. The rings around his eyes match his baby picture. But it’s the marks above his eyes that tell the tale. They make the shape of an M — common, yes, but the two smaller lines that trail up his forehead are a match. The bottom edges of the M are slightly offset, just like they were when he was small.

Why am I bothering to explain all of this? I’m a little freaked out, honestly.

Why did I search for and read three stories in a row about lost cats returning home? I barely can believe it.

This not probable yet possible thing has happened to us.

I searched several lost and found websites to see if someone in our area has posted a picture of him. My daughter and I stalked a few Facebook walls to see if a close neighbor has had him all this time. Nothing. If I’m brutally honest, only about one or two percent of me cares if someone is missing him. We thought he was coyote food six years go. He showed up on the deck. He bonded with our established cats and dogs as though he’d known them all this time. Yeah, there were a couple of hisses from the other cats, but no knock-down, drag-out fights. He gave the youngest dog a warning shot to the head on one of the first days he was here, but they’re buddies now. Pete plays with the dog toys like he always did — and nobody seems to mind.

He comes to his name. He goes outside nearly every day — and comes home.

There won’t be any “FOUND CAT” posters gong up around here. We are keeping Pete. After all, he is ours.