Pwy ydy hwnnw?

"Pwy ydy hwnnw?" It is a real question, in a real language, spoken by some of the best people on the planet. It means, "Who is that guy?" It is a favorite of mine just because of the way it looks on a page, rather like a photograph of a person I love.

Cat

Several years ago I took in a former alleycat as a housemate. He was young and a tough guy, and even though he had been neutered, he got into a lot of fights. The final decision to let him in was because he needed medical attention after one of his battles. I have to add that he really is a very pleasant fellow as long as you are not a cat smaller than a medium-sized dog or a rodent of any size (he habitually kills and eats squirrels).

Anyhow he knows his job well, he works hard, patrolling the neighborhood, and that is how he likes it. While food was nice to have, and a warm place to rest, real living was outdoors. But that first winter, when the snows and cold finally came, he stayed in a lot and went a bit stir crazy. Then, in the middle of January, we had the first sign of a thaw, and he conceived some mission of great importance and took off. He had done this before, but two days after he left, we had another heavy snow, and so any tracks he may have expected to follow home were covered over, and the whole countryside must have looked quite unfamiliar to a fellow whose eyes are six inches off the ground. I kept up hope he would come back, but by the end of the month, I came to accept that he was, sadly, missing in action.

Long about the end of February, I was startled to hear a howl outside my door, and I looked out to see what was going on. There he was. It had been six weeks. He had lost about a quarter of his weight and was clearly unsure of how he would be received. When I let him in, he immediately got some food, checked to see that there was a place on the sofa, checked to see that I was there, and went back to the food. He went around in this circle three or four times, and then into my living room, where he sat down in the middle of the floor, and started to cry. He cried as loudly and sorrowfully as he could until he was quite hoarse, about half an hour. I gave him some half and half for a treat, but it took the better part of an hour to get him settled - he kept having to check that the food was still there, I was still there, and everything else was as he had left it.

I had always thought of cats as a bit emotionally detached. But I guess he had to tell me about it.

Right now, he is sleeping on the sofa. He snores.

GHH