The Mystical Quality of Cats


Cats are mystical creatures. Most people, even most cat owners don’t realize just how much. We think we own a cat. In reality cats come and go where they know they can do the most good. Such was the case with JarJar.

She showed up in downtown Minneapolis and hung around the building where our friend Leslie worked. She could have picked any building, but she chose that one. She had been declawed on all four feet and so could not hunt. Hungry, pathetic, bedraggled, she hung around the building. Leslie at first fed her and tried to find the owner. None ever came fourth and now the reason is clear. JarJar had no previous owner. JarJar just appeared where she was most needed in a form that she knew would elicit the desired response. Even though Leslie was going through some very difficult times, she ended up adopting JarJar. Just when she needed a friend, a companion, someone to share her pain with, JarJar was there. Such is the mystical quality of cats.

On the surface JarJar was a crazy and clumsy cat. In reality she was very shrewd. She knew just when to run into the room and trip. Knew just the right moment to jump into her box and start ripping at the cardboard. Just when to break the tension. Also when to hop up in Leslie’s lap and just be there. Such is the mystical quality of cats.

At one point Leslie decided to give JarJar away. In reality JarJar knew she needed to go on a temporary assignment. She got herself transferred to the one house that did not have a cat, but needed one, occupied by the only people that would eventually give her back. JarJar knew that her assignment with Leslie was not complete. While at our house JarJar chased birds and squirrels (through the window at least), developed a strange addiction to chive, and built a fort under the Christmas tree. The purpose of all this was to prime the pump. To set the groundwork for Geiger and later Momiji, and Imoto. Other cats that had not even been born yet. Cats take care of their own. Such is the mystical quality of cats.

And now JarJar has departed. Personally I’m not completely sure she has in fact passed on. This may be just another transition. JarJar may still be out there. Somewhere she is hanging around someone else’s door. Someone who needs a friend, a companion, someone to share their pain with. She may be black, or calico, or orange, or even gray again, but inside it’s JarJar and JarJar goes where she’s needed the most.

Such is the mystical quality of cats.