Ode to Peeko

Peeko, the Sturgis family cat, was last seen on the evening of Monday, July 17th. My parents let her out for the night and she never returned. A myriad of possible outcomes went through my head as to what might have happened to our beloved cat - was she hit by a car, killed by another animal, taken in by another loving family, tortured and killed by a cruel person? I wanted to hope for the best - that she was taken in by some loving family. But truth be told, Peeko had been an outdoor cat for the past eight years and knew her way around. She probably wouldn't have let another person take her somewhere she wasn't familiar with so that probably wasn't what happened.

My parents put forth a valiant effort to look for her throughout the yard and even passed out fliers to the neighbors but to no avail. In my father's most recent newsletter to the family, he hypothesized the following:

In talking with others in the neighborhood, I’ve found out that there are other domestic cats missing, too. There seems to be a consensus that there is a fisher cat around. I had never heard of such an animal before, so I looked it up and here is what I found. A fisher cat is not a cat but a member of the weasel family. It is nocturnal and used to be called a “polecat” and can grow up to thirty pounds. It is a ferocious predator of small game and is very fast on its feet. (This might explain why we haven’t seen any woodchucks this year.) Fishers are widely blamed for devouring housecats that venture out at night. During the mating season they have a chilling scream very much like that of a high-pitched child. I think I’ve heard them before, but always assumed it was Peeko or another cat. The sound was like Peeko crying when Mom gave her baths, only louder. If indeed Peeko met up with a fisher, she wouldn’t have stood a chance.

Last night, I cried for the first time over the possible and very probable fate of our cherished cat. She was adored by the whole family and although Brandon laughs about this, she seemed to exude these human-like qualities. I know, I know - it sounds extremely silly but I swear, the times when I was sad, Peeko would come curl up on my lap or stroke my face with her own. She knew when we needed to be comforted and was willing to alleviate our pain - whether it was caused by a stupid boyfriend or a stomach ache. She even would get embarrassed - when she went to the veteranarian and he gave her a shot, she pooed in her carrier and she was extremely embarrassed. Brandon jokes around with me when I tell him this story and asks, "Was she blushing?" but my sister and I will attest that she really was embarrassed but appreciative of our care, nonetheless. But she was motivated too - like when the vet told her she needed to lose some weight - Peeko really went out and did more exercise and also cut back on the wet food. If only we all could be so motivated.

Peeko was the first thing we asked about when we visited home from school or married life. We would love to find her in our sock drawer or curled up with the clothes in the laundry basket. Her favorite place to lounge was on top of the bookshelf in the living room where she could overlook her domain. However, she would never pass up the opportunity to explore a new box, bag, or annual Christmas tree. She loved canned tuna and I think was quite a fan of shrimp.

Brandon tells me that I'll see her in heaven but it makes me sad that the next time I go home, Peeko will not be there. There are people out there who say they aren't cat people - they seem to have a built in aversion to all things feline that exhibited itself at a young age. But if there was one cat that could have won over those types of people, it was Peeko. How couldn't you love the cat that found the most perfect sleeping position draped over your neck. Granted, you'd have a sore neck in the morning but Peeko's motivation was to warm it throughout the night.

Perhaps one day, Brandon will gift me with a cat that may live up to the legacy of Peeko. But for now, she has left a gaping hole in our hearts that will not easily be filled.