Pittsburgh
Pennsylvania
July 1999
I dated Betsy three times. The middle time, I parked in front of her house and walked up to the door, rang the bell. When she opened the screen door for me, a white and brown spotted kitty cat ran past me, out of the house.
Betsy and I talked on the telephone two days later and she told me that her cat, “Ms”, the one who rushed past me, had not yet come home. There certainly was nothing I could do.
My house is three quarters of a mile from Betsy’s. Four days later, I arrived home from somewhere and who should I see sitting on my porch? Betsy!
Nope, not Betsy. We had one more date and that was that. But sitting on my porch was Ms, her cat. Maybe there was something I could do.
I wonder how this happened. The only time I had ever even seen this critter was when it ran past me earlier in the week. We never said hello, I never had the chance to pet him, he was a stranger.
I told Betsy that a cat appeared on my porch and I wondered if it was, in fact, hers. Goofy idea.
She asked me to describe him. “Long hair, white body with dark fur on half his face, extending to the back of his head and part of his tail. Also he sported a kind of heart on his left flank.
“Does he have a crook in the end of his tail?”
I felt the tip. “Why, yes, he does. Feels like it is broken.”
“That’s him. That’s Ms!”
“How the heck did he know to come to my porch!? Magic cat. I’ll bring him over to you right now.” Even though I didn’t think this was going to develop into anything, Betsy and me, I did like the idea of seeing her again.
“Umm, no,” Betsy said. “Don’t come over.”
“No?”
“My landlord is giving me a hard time about having a pet. Would you like to keep him?”
“I don’t know. I don’t even know him. Maybe a couple of dates will do it.”
Betsy wondered if I meant with her, or with the cat. I wasn’t sure which I meant either. The relationship between Betsy and me lasted another two weeks. Ms was with me for eight years.
coda:
The term “Ms” was growing in popularity at the time, achieving approval from those who believed that it was okay for a title to refer to the feminine but not indicate marital status. While I was generally in favor of this kind of equality — “Mr” covers the masculine, why is it necessary to specify additional information about women! — I didn’t like the name “Ms” for the cat.
So I changed it. Well, he and I changed it. Cats often name themselves.
Presenting the one and only “Antoine Chapeau.” Known in some circles as “Tony, the Hat.”
Add to this story the image of this feline hiker making his way through the city streets from Betsy’s to my place, without a pack, without hiking shoes, without a map. Over the years, I learned quite a lot about hiking from this Walkin’ Cat.