Jimmy Cagney and I

About 30 years ago, I lived in an old walk-up apartment building over on Lake Street which was equipped with a back door that opened onto an old-fashioned battleship-gray back porch of the sort that used to be common in the Chicago area. Sometimes I would leave the inner door open with only the screen door latched. So it was that one warm evening as I was sitting in my living room, reading my mail, I heard a plaintive meowing. It took me a while to track down the source and I was surprised to find a large gray striped "tiger cat" tom sitting on my back porch, staring in through the screen door. The little guy had walked up three and a half flights of steps to get there and when he caught sight of me, he resumed meowing and pawed the screen eagerly.

Although he was not wearing a collar or tag and seemed a bit unkempt, he was a dear little fellow, outgoing and sociable. I opened a can of tuna fish for him that night, and the next, and when I realized that these visits were going to be a nightly event, I even laid in a supply of cat food. The cat always ate whatever I gave him with polite enthusiasm and appreciation but it seemed to me that what he really wanted was the only thing he had to offer -- friendship and appreciation. He would rub affectionately against me and generously allow himself to be petted copiously. Clearly, he had seen his share of conflict and bore evidence of those events including scratches and a damaged ear. His battle-scarred exterior appearance combined with the sweet charisma of his personality reminded me of one of my favorite actors and I began calling the cat "Jimmy Cagney."

Jimmy would eat and hang around for a while, then walk back over to the door and sit there, looking back at me with an over-the-shoulder glance which clearly meant that it was time to mosey along. I never was sure where he was off to nor did I follow him but rather I would just humbly hold the door open for him as he swished out graciously but grandly.

One evening I got home to realize that I was out of cat food and had to make a mad dash to a convenience store for an emergency supply. When I got back, Jimmy was sitting there patiently by the back door, waiting for me.

Into Each Life, a Little Snow Must Fall

One cold dark winter night, I was late getting home and as I climbed my back stairs, I was stricken to see in the new-fallen snow two sets of paw prints, one leading up and the other leading down again. By my door was a round, bare spot which was evidence of where Jimmy's seat had rested for some time as he must have meowed and waited for me to come to the door. The poor little thing must be starving, I thought, but when I voiced my concern to one of my neighbors, he laughed and said that he didn't think I had to worry on that score. It was only then that we were able to realize what had been happening.

The Plot Thickens

As it turned out, Jimmy had a whole list of people he visited every evening and we had ALL been feeding him! Apparently, someone had been giving him a berth for the night too because he survived the winters beautifully. When we figured this all out, we loved the little guy more than ever and to this day I can remember the thrill of his friendship and his faithful visits. Whatever food and water I gave him was secondary, he would have been happy just to be buddies ... and I have learned to appreciate the importance of any friend like that.

Then He Was Gone.

Jimmy was there, meowing at the door every night and then he didn't show up and we never saw him again. Maybe he was killed in a fight or perhaps he had fallen from a high place. (I had noticed him walking around on the roof of our building sometimes.) I like to think that perhaps he just died peacefully in his sleep. At any rate, he was gone.

Epilogue

Someday I will be gone too and I've got to say that I would be thrilled to think that anybody would miss me half as much as we all missed Jimmy Cagney. I will never forget him.

　

　

　

　

　

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