Last October I noticed that a teenaged tomcat with an orange back and white stomach was hanging around my house and snacking on any food I was leaving on my porch for my neutred tom Ace. I started calling him Rollo because of the swirls in the orange part of his markings. He was a great cat. Lively, friendly, quick as greased lightning, he'd come whenever I whistled for Ace. If he spotted me walking down the street, he'd be at my heels following me home. He'd dash into my house at every opportunity just to explore it. When I picked him up to usher him out again, never did he scratch me. The only negative was that he terrorized Ace since not being neutred, he was a lot spunkier.
I started making some enquiries as to whose cat Rollo could be because I suspected he was a stray. I thought I might have to adopt him before the winter and impress on him and Ace that they were to get along. I learned after a week or so that I was a few days late. The woman four doors away, P, had already adopted him, taken him to the vet and got him neutred. All's well that end's well, I thought at the time.
Rollo continued to respond everytime I whistled though and he still eagerly followed me to the front door whenever he spotted me. He liked to roam out back near the railroad tracks.
The last time I saw him was late Saturday evening when he dashed into my front hallway where he was met by my hissing tom Ace. He dashed right out again. Fine. It wasn't at all cold.
But early Monday morning the temperature started to drop. By Monday afternoon, it was bitterly cold out. The temperature between Mondat afternoon and early this morning hovered between 0 and minus 5 Fahrenheit.
Around 11:00 PM Tuesday evening P saw me coming home and asked me whether I'd seen Rollo. She was outside looking for him. She said she had not seen him since Saturday and she'd left a note in my mailbox Monday. (The note was dated Sunday.) I hadn't seen the note because I hadn't checked the mailbox since the previous Friday.
I replaced the trenchcoat I was wearing over my suit with my heavy winter coat, put on a pair of boots and went roaming, calling and whistling for Rollo along the railroad tracks and along the adjacent streets for about forty minutes. No dice. No Rollo. I thought/hoped that somebody had taken Rollo in, given his friendly propensity to dash into people's houses. Ace often rooms at two other houses on the street.
I tried again Wednesday after work. Thursday P told me that a woman just down the street named D had told a mutual acquaintance that Rollo had been found dead - but she didn't know how or why. I was crestfallen. Rollo had been so full of life. Just last week I remember him lolling about on the driveway on his back from the simple joy of being alive. I was also racked by irrational guilt. You see this would all never have happened had I been the one to adopt Rollo. Moreover, what if he hadn't met Ace in the hallway and dashed outside again Saturday - or had that been Sunday?
I kept asking myself what and how much I would have done/risked/payed to save my poor little friend - but from what? Whatever - it was a lot. I resolved to ask D down the street what had happened to Rollo. This I did yesterday just before supper.
I found out that Rollo had been found frozen to death under a car in front of her house not even fifty metres from P's door Tuesday afternoon. Perhaps he'd been in someone's house but then sneaked/dashed out sometime Monday. It had turned bitterly cold during the day Monday. He would have gone underneath the car for the heat if it had just been driven and would have subsequently frozen to death eventually.
I started making some enquiries as to whose cat Rollo could be because I suspected he was a stray. I thought I might have to adopt him before the winter and impress on him and Ace that they were to get along. I learned after a week or so that I was a few days late. The woman four doors away, P, had already adopted him, taken him to the vet and got him neutred. All's well that end's well, I thought at the time.
Rollo continued to respond everytime I whistled though and he still eagerly followed me to the front door whenever he spotted me. He liked to roam out back near the railroad tracks.
The last time I saw him was late Saturday evening when he dashed into my front hallway where he was met by my hissing tom Ace. He dashed right out again. Fine. It wasn't at all cold.
But early Monday morning the temperature started to drop. By Monday afternoon, it was bitterly cold out. The temperature between Mondat afternoon and early this morning hovered between 0 and minus 5 Fahrenheit.
Around 11:00 PM Tuesday evening P saw me coming home and asked me whether I'd seen Rollo. She was outside looking for him. She said she had not seen him since Saturday and she'd left a note in my mailbox Monday. (The note was dated Sunday.) I hadn't seen the note because I hadn't checked the mailbox since the previous Friday.
I replaced the trenchcoat I was wearing over my suit with my heavy winter coat, put on a pair of boots and went roaming, calling and whistling for Rollo along the railroad tracks and along the adjacent streets for about forty minutes. No dice. No Rollo. I thought/hoped that somebody had taken Rollo in, given his friendly propensity to dash into people's houses. Ace often rooms at two other houses on the street.
I tried again Wednesday after work. Thursday P told me that a woman just down the street named D had told a mutual acquaintance that Rollo had been found dead - but she didn't know how or why. I was crestfallen. Rollo had been so full of life. Just last week I remember him lolling about on the driveway on his back from the simple joy of being alive. I was also racked by irrational guilt. You see this would all never have happened had I been the one to adopt Rollo. Moreover, what if he hadn't met Ace in the hallway and dashed outside again Saturday - or had that been Sunday?
I kept asking myself what and how much I would have done/risked/payed to save my poor little friend - but from what? Whatever - it was a lot. I resolved to ask D down the street what had happened to Rollo. This I did yesterday just before supper.
I found out that Rollo had been found frozen to death under a car in front of her house not even fifty metres from P's door Tuesday afternoon. Perhaps he'd been in someone's house but then sneaked/dashed out sometime Monday. It had turned bitterly cold during the day Monday. He would have gone underneath the car for the heat if it had just been driven and would have subsequently frozen to death eventually.
