Farewell, Sneakers (a.k.a. Lulu)
Tomorrow I will be at the doctors when Lulu leaves with his “mother” for Wisconsin. I didn’t plan this, but it works out well. I don’t think I could brave saying goodbye.
You may remember him as Fake Fred, named after another feline who graces us with his presence around mealtime. Both are variations on the theme of black and white. We named the first Fred after Fred Astaire of old-time movie and tuxedo fame. Fake Fred was a kind of Fred Junior. Both hung around the peripheries of our home while we fed the three feral cats that were born under our shed.
Fred still comes faithfully every day, now a bit more assertively, by sitting by the door and staring with a when he (at least I think Fred’s a he) is hungry.
Fake Fred was shy at first, lingering on the edge of our patio while the other cats supped. But hunger got the best of him and he forged in, all 15 pounds of him, to gobble up as much as he could.
He was starving. We put a separate plate out for him.
Then we found him curled up asleep on our bed one day and my suspicions about his history proved to be correct. This cat was someone’s pet, but how did he arrive at our house? I asked around to the various cat whisperers in the village and got several unverified responses.
I took pictures of Fake Fred and posted them on Facebook. Admittedly my cell phone pictures weren’t the best and responses were few and very tentative … e.g. looks like our old “Phoebe” or “I heard that so and so was looking for a black and white cat.”
He begged for pets, for scratches behind his ears. His golden eyes blinked cat friendship.
It was getting very cold. We invited him in.
At first he demurred, preferring to sleep in the cold under our porch. But he ate well and sometimes made it inside the house to nap on the furniture. I put a flea collar on him. He began to come in when called every night at eleven.
He needed another name and Lulu seemed right. Why? There’s an old song that has a line, “Lulu’s back in town” … somehow I thought that fit.
I asked my spouse to take pictures of Lulu with his camera. The results were far better than the ones I had taken. I posted them on Facebook again. A few people ventured guesses about his genealogy but there were no takers. I persisted, reposting over and over until one day I received a query. “Does this cat have a white spot on the end of his tail?”
“Yes!” Oh, my gosh, that white spot was not visible in the pictures. Did we find Lulu’s owner? Yes, but strangely the respondent was living in Wisconsin.
I know that cats have been known to travel for long distances, but the answer was simpler. Marilyn, the owner of Lulu, moved from Flower Lane in Marcellus two years ago. His given name is Sneakers.
“Sneakers disappeared before I left. I was heartbroken. I tried everything, posting on-line, posters but I couldn’t find him.”
The mystery became clearer, but there were still some sticky bits. We only “had” him for about nine months. Where had he been for over a year? He wasn’t thin when he appeared to sample our food. Was he living with someone nearby? We’ve never been able to find out.
Marilyn’s family, which still lives in Marcellus, confirmed that Lulu was the disappeared-for-two-years Sneakers. He was what you would call a real rescue. Marilyn’s grandson, Ben, found him as a kitten in a barn somewhere in Westvale.
Could he go home with them? The presence of other pets, which they suspected were the reason that he left in the first place, gave us pause. Maybe it would be best if he continued to reside on First Street.
He’s an outdoor lover, spending time basking in the rays of sunrise against our neighbor’s basement window or snoozing on the glider on our porch. He’s always here for meals and comes in to sleep on our bed at night, delighting in pets and praise just like any other cat. A gentle paw on my arm in the middle of the night was a signal for more attention. He was sweet.
He’s leaving on a long trip and I wish that he didn’t have to make yet another transition, something that would be hard for a human, let alone an animal that is territorial, but such is the way the world operates. Marilyn would leave him with us, but cat behavior sometimes dictates who goes and who stays. Our two indoor/outdoor former ferals and Lulu sometimes are not the best of friends and becoming a referee to cat fracases is not fun.
I stumble to find the words used to properly describe the bond we have with companion animals also known as pets. They are not, especially when you refer to cats, possessions any more than kith and kin are possessions. We may “own” them legally, but ownership pales in its power to define the relationship.
We give to them emotionally and they reciprocate as their beings allow. They are connected to us, to their own kind and to the wider wildness of the world. There is a world that is their world, one of scent and sight and sound, that is not ours. Where it overlaps with ours, we find a bridge that helps us better understand our own reality.
Lulu came unbidden, but not unwelcomed. And so, my sweet boy, enjoy this trip if you can, and know that your “mother” missed you and is happy to I have you back, but know also that you take our hearts with you. We are glad that you found us, and sad that you are leaving.

Ann Ferro is a mother, a grandmother and a retired social studies teacher. While still figuring out what she wants to be when she grows up, she lives in Marcellus with lots of books, a spouse and a large orange cat.