Mr. Kibble: the current situation

One morning a year ago, we were getting ready for work, when I saw a cat on a lower back step, stretched out and resting. It was Mr. Kibble - we had not seen him for eight or nine months, which was nothing unusual. He meowed, which was.

My brother had been feeding the cats anyway (it's his job in the mornings), so he got some food ready and stepped outside with it. That's when we noticed Mr. K's condition. His coat looked dusty and dull and he had a desperate air about him; and, more alarming, his movements were very awkward.

This photo was taken that day - his paws are far apart because his balance was so off, and he looked up at us with a weird angle to his neck.

Every time we went out to refresh his food he would hastily and awkwardly back down the stairs and it was plain he had some sort of neurological issue. He'd always seemed to have a peaceful dignity to me, and now it was gone. I was afraid he had a degenerative disease or a parasite.

My brother left the house before I did, so I watched Mr. Kibble to see where he would go. He ambled through the back yard toward the bridge and underneath it, but fell over on his left side two or three times along the way. He had no trouble getting up again, however.

The next day I spoke to Diane, who was as alarmed as we were over his condition. It turns out she was more familiar with him than we - she said he'd been coming around for ten years or so, and didn't make trouble with her cats, but she had never been able to get near him. We determined to keep our eyes on him.

We watched for his appearance every day at mid-morning and in the evenings in case he showed up.  My brother moved the cat shelter near the house and cut another entrance to it near the railing, so he could easily get inside from the step; we had all sorts of plans to try and get him used to going inside, so when winter came, he'd be safe and nearby. But after three weeks he stopped coming, and we had no idea what happened. The logical thing would have been to call Diane, but since we're not actually chummy, I never did.

Meanwhile, Cyndi came over with her new Ragdoll kitten. She lives a mile away, and it seems she has a neighbor who feeds and shelters stray cats. It turns out that Mr. Kibble had been that way just a couple of months before! I had no idea cats roamed so far. So the time went by, with us often looking out the windows for him, but afraid something terrible had happened.

Then one day in late October I was making dinner - it was a beautiful day and in between cooking I stepped to the back; I noticed a black and white cat laying right underneath the screen door and when he looked up at me - it was Mr. Kibble! He was much improved - his coat was shiny and his movements were at least eighty percent better, I'd say. I saw him again a week later, and that was it, until we found out that Diane and her husband had managed to trap him and get him into her house before the cold weather came.

We figured he must have had a stroke, because cats can often recover from that, whereas if he had a disease it isn't likely he would have gotten better. I missed seeing him around, but he was safe in a house, and Diane told me she wasn't going to let out him at all, unless she could be sure he wouldn't go back to his old wandering ways.

To be continued.

Mr. Kibble this spring