They call me Cat

Jennifer Vanderau
Cumberland Valley Animal Shelter

(9/2021) Seriously. That’s what they named me.

The thing is, I’m a dog.

Weird, right?

We first met at the animal shelter. I was there because my owner had passed away. That was a tough time in my life. I missed mom a lot, but the people at the shelter were nice. They told me every day they were going to find me a good home.

The first time I saw my new people, they looked in on me in my kennel and something tingled in my belly. I’m not one of those dogs who has "feelings" and stuff. I mean the people at the shelter think I have Shepherd in me somewhere, so I have some level of intelligence.

So the whole "vibe" thing wasn’t ever really my scene, but I also couldn’t exactly explain what happened when I first saw them.

The woman just stared. And it wasn’t the weird type of stare that some people have. It seemed like it was some kind of intuition or something. I know that’s a little "woo woo," but I don’t know how else to describe it.

The man hummed. I’m not kidding, he hummed. I could definitely hear it because I’m attuned to a range of noises that not a lot of people can hear. And then he tilted his head a little, not unlike what I’ve seen some of the dogs at the shelter do when they hear a strange noise.

Then they looked at each other, didn’t say a word, shared some kind of almost telepathy or something and moved on down the row. I chalked it up to the full moon I had heard the shelter staff talking about and laid back down on my bed.

When the volunteers took me out of the kennel and led me into the bonding room, I have to say I was pretty surprised to see the couple there. I didn’t think they had thought much of me from that first glance.

They sat on a bench and I moved in between them. It was slow, our meeting. Their first touch was so gentle, it gave me that feeling in my belly again.

The man said, "Hey there, boy. You are handsome."

The woman said, "He has nice eyes. Smart eyes."

That made my heart skip a beat. Maybe she really could see inside me somehow.

They didn’t talk to me in that voice some human use when dealing with animals. They talked to me like I was another person. I hadn’t experienced anything like that before.

The next day, they came back with two little kids. Grandkids they called them. It was the almost-three year old who actually named me. The minute I walked in the room, she shrieked, "Cat!" and raced up to pat my head.

The husband and wife chuckled and tried to explain to her that I was, indeed, a dog and not a cat, but she wasn’t having it. I was Cat for the rest of the afternoon.

And I was Cat when they took me home.

I’m still Cat even weeks later.

The grandkids visit every once in a while and they’re nice to me and I watch them play and I know that I would protect them, no matter what happened. I think the man and woman sense that, too. They get this knowing expression on their faces when they catch me watching over the grandkids.

The days are pretty calm and serene. The woman paints. The man strums a guitar. One time the woman pulled out this bowl with which she produced the most amazing vibration. Tibetan Singing Bowl she called it. It mellowed me out and relaxed us all.

Life now is definitely different than the years with my first mom. The husband and wife march to their own drummer. They don’t dress like mom did or talk like mom did or eat like mom did or act like mom did.

But at random moments during the day, one of them will walk up to me, put a hand on my head and say something like, "I’m glad you’re here" or "the house has a better consciousness since you came to live here."

I don’t know that I’ve ever heard people say things like that before.

But see. Here’s the thing. I’m going to admit it. I kind of like it.

The words are spoken with such sincerity, such warmth. The touch to my head is absolutely genuine. Like they want to make that contact. Like there really is an energy flowing between us that neither of us can see, but we can sense.

Oh man, I really am getting woo woo here.

So, I’m a dog named Cat. I have parents who hum and chant and laugh and love and own exactly who they are. There’s a certainty in that that settles me somehow.

In some ways, it’s kind of refreshing. It’s a little poignant. It’s definitely a good home, just like the shelter people promised they’d find for me.

It’s real, you know? A lot of people and animals may find it odd, but it works. They work. We work.

We connect. And even though a year ago I would have rolled my eyes at anyone who said something like that, I get it now. I really do.

So I’m a Shepherd mix they call Cat. So I lie next to a Tibetan Singing Bowl as it’s being played. So I listen to my new mom and dad hum folk songs to each other. So what?

So I’m a dog named Cat.

In a lot of ways, I’m definitely one of the lucky ones.

Odd name and all.

*****

Jennifer Vanderau is the Director of Communications for the Cumberland Valley Animal Shelter in Chambersburg, Pa., and can be reached at cvasoc@innernet.net. The shelter accepts both monetary and pet supply donations. For more information, call the shelter at (717) 263-5791 or visit the website www.cvas-pets.org.