The Cat Who Committed Suicide
By Agnes Dee
(Editor's Note: All of us who have pets have, at one time or another, had an experience which can attribute to the close communication between man and animal or something bordering on the paranormal in that regard. It is indeed unfortunate that "science" still scoffs at the claims, although the minds of some have been alerted to the possibility of this link; usually only through their own experience. Such is the theme of the following article related to us personally by one of our readers, to which there were many witnesses.)
Being born and living in Bombay, India for the first 19 years of my life, I have had many fond and some strange experiences, but none has impressed me as much as the strange cat which wandered into my life.
The year was 1931, and I was nearly 13 years old when my aunt (mother's sister), came in one day and asked if we would care to have a cat. My aunt, it seemed, was having difficulties with the cat, who at 18 months old, continued to spit and scratch at anyone who would attempt to approach it. Auntie thought we, being animal lovers, would have better luck with it and so we decided to give it a try.
We were in for a surprise, thinking we could "domesticate" or tame the creature, since he didn't respond to anyone, whomsoever. He continued spitting and scratching at us, when he arrived...except to do the strangest thing. He immediately jumped up to sit on the wide arm of the large chair where my father was sitting. Father had been ill for some time and sat in the large chair throughout the day, until he retired in the evening.
The cat, from the day of its arrival, had "adopted" my father and remained at his side constantly...spitting and screeching at anyone who would dare approach. He would purr when father occasionally stroked him and be content to sit and sleep there on the arm of the chair throughout the day. Since we could not approach him, we left the cat's food away at a distance, where he would then jump down from the chair to eat and return to my father's side. There he would remain faithfully, quiet, resting and sleeping. Ironically, my father liked, but was not overly fond of cats, and did not shower him with affection, except for a petting now and then.
For three months, this deep affection for my father continued until the day my father passed on. Following that day, the cat would sit at the bottom of the chair, looking up, as if someone were sitting there, and begin to cry. It was a pathetic moan which continued throughout the day and night. At times he would leave to eat, then return; just sitting and staring at the spot or "someone" there, but most of the time he would wail continuously.
Mother and I were perplexed, not knowing what to do about this eerie occurrence. We still could not approach our little friend; he still spat and tried to scratch us. After six weeks of the unbearable moaning, we finally decided that we could no nothing but find another home for the creature. A local school master, who was a friend of the family, sympathetically took him in. The elderly school master, who lived about a mile away, did his best with the cat and we were relieved that a solution was found to the problem.
Two days later, we were shocked to find the cat in our home, apparently entering through our ground floor window. There he sat again...at the food of the chair, crying and wailing...sometimes just sitting and staring again, seemingly asking something...awaiting some kind of reply from somewhere. How he ever found his way back to our home is amazing, since he had never been to the school master's or anyone else's home.
Again, we took the pathetic creature back to the school master's to give it another try. At least, during the two short days which the school master had him, the cat became accustomed to sitting on the veranda and at times, on the railing there. We hoped the plan would be successful this time.
Approximately four days later, the school master came to visit us with some sad news. It seems that he was sitting with his family on the veranda, having dinner. The cat, who was sitting on the railing, had grown sad apparently, during those days; refusing to eat much, and remained quietly perched there...then, for no apparent reason and without warning, the school master and the family watched in horror as the cat, seemingly deliberate, sprang up and jumped off the veranda, falling to his death four stories below upon the pavement.
Upon pondering the facts, we, too, could only arrive at that conclusion. It seemed too obvious. The cat had committed suicide. There was no other reason. He had been accustomed to the veranda, knew it, knew the railing, had sat there and was aware of the height. It seemed quite clear to us that missing my father, he finally became distraught and, like we humans, at times, sought to end his misery.
This was the only conclusion we could come to and we will never know what special bond there was between the wild cat which no one could handle, and my father's profound effect upon him.
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