I Should Have Kept the Dead Cat

I love cats—they make me happy. But I limit myself to two indoor cats at any one time, because I know I’m unstable and could quickly turn into one of those Crazy Cat Ladies. I love dogs, too—but since I’m the one who cleans up the yard, I’m never tempted to get a second (or third, or fourth) dog. Cats? Gotta watch myself.

So the biggest dilemma I’ve ever faced (cat-wise, at least) was the day my daughter found a dead cat, I accidentally set it on fire, brought it back to life and then gave it up for adoption.

Let me explain…

I was making thimbleberry jam one morning when my youngest daughter came screaming into the house, “TINY’S DEAD! TINY’S DEAD!”

Tiny was the kitten that had shown up in our barn a week earlier. My kids had been feeding it and bringing it up to the door (daily) to show me how cute it was. And I had been reminding them (daily) that we could not let another cat into the house, since we already had two and that was our limit.

Okay, so Youngest Daughter came screaming into the house with the dead cat. It was hanging over her hand like limp, overcooked spaghetti, eyes glazed, mouth open, no pulse, no breathing, no reflexes, ice cold. Dead.

As she stood there, sobbing, I pointed out that animals, like people, are not pronounced dead until they are warm and dead. So I wrapped Tiny in a tea towel and set him near the pot of jam that was simmering on the stove.

I checked Tiny every five minutes. It took almost an hour, but finally his lip twitched. You can imagine my excitement—I’d saved a cat! I hadn’t. It was an optical illusion. Tiny’s lip wasn’t moving—his whiskers were slowly burning down like little cigarettes (I’d placed him too close to the burner).

I grabbed the limp, dead cat and frantically extinguished his whiskers. It was time to get to work, so I put Tiny in a basket on a heating pad and set him on my desk. He lay there completely dead for another three hours. When I headed into the kitchen to get lunch, I heard a loud clatter in my office. I raced back to my desk. The papers I’d been working on were scattered across the floor, and the dead cat was sprawled across my keyboard (no heart beat, no breathing—I kid you not).

At that point, I’ll admit I was a little spooked (had someone actually snuck in and thrown the dead cat onto my keyboard?), but I put Tiny back into his basket and got to work.

One hour later, Tiny’s eyes started rolling around in his head, he made a weird snuffling sound and actually started breathing. I picked him up and cuddled him near my neck, hoping to keep him warm. Tiny immediately started purring (then, almost as quickly, sprayed watery poop all over my clothes).

The dead cat was quickly named Pom Pom by my kids, since (thanks to my little oops in the kitchen) he had pom pom-like balls of burned hair where his whiskers should have been. Pom Pom spent that evening in the basement so he could be near the litter box. Our other two cats stayed down there glaring at him. The dead cat that should have bloody well stayed dead, in their opinion.

I checked Pom Pom the next morning. He was decidedly undead. He ate everything I gave him, ballooned out like a pregnant walrus, used the litter box with great enthusiasm and then curled up on his heating pad and purred nonstop.

Pom Pom was a very cute cat—even cuter than when he was dead. The kids instantly bonded with him. I instantly bonded with him. But there was that strict two cat policy that we have, to stop Mommy from turning into a Crazy Cat Lady. That policy loomed large. I finally broke down and called the humane society to see if they might be able to find Pom Pom a good home. They showed up in less than an hour, raving about how quickly Pom Pom would be adopted, since he (a) was adorable (b) purred nonstop (c) loved to cuddle and (d) was no longer dead.

Did I do the right thing? The logical part of my brain says yes. But now I’m having regrets. Since giving up Pom Pom, one of our cats has died of cancer, the other of old age. I’m now a Crazy Cat Lady with no cats. Not one. Yep. Should have kept the dead cat.

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