Lessons From a Cat

#191, May 24, 2006

 

My cat has a new best friend: me.

Hermione is a "gray domestic shorthair," our first-time cat. She was named after Harry Potter's partner-in-mischief by my daughter, who rescued her at age four months from the cretins who put her in the tailpipe of a pickup truck. Hermione lived her first year as a free range feline, spending her days out under cottonwoods and willows and trailers on the wild outskirts of Moab, Utah. Evicted by my daughter's new landlady, Hermione came to live with us.

We live at the southwest edge of Petaluma, on a generously landscaped subdivision lot. Our garden would be a wonderful place for a cat to explore, but we were advised by many cat experts that she would eventually jump the fence and roam the neighborhood. This environment, with its fast-moving cars, owls and feral cats, would be hazardous to her health. There's no reason why a cat, properly equipped and attended to by her people, can't have a healthy and happy life indoors, they said.

So Hermione became an indoor cat. We played with her, and she enjoyed intimidating our "nine-year-old puppy" Eva, a Cockapoo of approximately equal size. I've always been a dog person, but Hermione, with her quirky grace and measured affection, made me a "bipetual." But as the months passed, it became more and more clear that she missed the outdoors. She would spend a lot of time on the window sills, sniffing the air coming in through screened windows, taking in the view. She wanted to be in nature. My wife looked for "a way out" of this dilemma, and discovered cat fencing.

Cat fencing kits were available online. They consisted of overhanging plastic mesh held in place by wires stretched between metal brackets mounted to the fence posts. Not inexpensive, especially considering we had 450 linear feet to cover. Complicating the challenge was the dense vegetation growing along much of the fence line. But Hermione's (and wife's) discontent was too important to ignore, so I took it on. The vegetation problem was solved by coming to terms with the need to occasionally "edit" the garden, along with my hand pruners, loppers, and, for the really big stuff, the Sawzall. I brought the cost down substantially with two of my garden construction favorites, rebar and baling wire. E-mail me if you want details on the "Great Wall of Hermione," which will soon appear on my Web site.

Yesterday kitty took her maiden voyage. Wife likened Hermione's behavior to that of a connoisseur of fine sights and smells, savoring every sensation. I'll spare you the doting daddy details. But this morning, after a few pre-breakfast hours of unsupervised garden time, it was clear we were owned by a much happier cat.

We are all like Hermione. We can survive indoors, but cannot be fulfilled. We need more time under trees and sky, less time in front of screens. These desperate times require we experience, and come to love and protect more of the nature that is being methodically destroyed or sealed off in private estates. You can gain these experiences in special recreational outings (where I will be for my next two columns, thank you). But another way, equally important because of its convenience and utility (and thus frequency), is walking and bicycling for commuting, shopping and errands.

Petaluma Green Lane, a branch of the Healthy Community Consortium, was created to make it easier, safer, and more fun to travel in this "practical natural" manner. We started off last year by employing the skills of Petaluma High construction tech students to create trailside map kiosks; we are planning to install the kiosks this summer. We are collaborating with the "Safe Routes to Schools" folks. We also developed and are updating the Petaluma Green Lane Map of bike-pedestrian routes and trails (learn more at www.healthycommunity.info/greenlane.htm.) PGL is having our 2006 general meeting tomorrow night, May 25, 7 to 9 p.m., in Room 2 of the Petaluma Community Center (Lucchesi Park.) C'mon by. If you can't make it, send me an e-mail. I'll read it once I get this cat off my lap-top.