Con the Magnificat (a tribute)
Hi everyone, I'd like to share with you a story about a very good cat.
I'm visiting the house where my late mother and her mother spent their later years and looking through some old personal effects of theirs. I came across some photos and writings about the legendary (in my family, anyways) bond between my Nan's husband John and an orange tabby cat from the neighborhood who he called Con.
First there's this piece that Nan submitted to the local newspaper, which I remember seeing when it was published in 1999:
>Cat a 'con man' of the heart
Con, short for confidence man, lived with a neighbor. The cat was a large, long-haired orange tabby. He and my husband, John, a civil engineer, became best friends.
When we were in the process of moving out of the area, John asked Con's indifferent landlord, "How much do you want for the cat?"
"Take him," the man said, never realizing how close he had come to great wealth.
Con's new home provided him with a private entrance to the garage, complete with a covered-against-the-elements patio, and a mini Liberty Bell installed on a step (which the cat batted when he wanted to come into the house). These and many other amenities were lovingly handcrafted by John. The inseparable duo used to swat a pingpong ball across the hall. Back and forth, back and forth. The game could last for an hour, and I don't know which of the boys had more fun.
Then Con developed feline leukemia. John kept Con under constant surveillance, knowing the cat could disappear and die. The leukemia went into remission for almost 10 years.
John had been suffering from debilitating back problems. He endured four operations. Con was a loving distraction from unyielding pain.
On June 12, 1985, John died of a heart attack. Con had tolerated me through the years. One evening, very shortly after John's death, Con climbed onto my lap. My sobs and tears elicited a moment I shall never forget. Con placed his paw around my arm and looked right into my eyes.
"I miss him too."
Con died a few weeks later.
Lenore F. Bumstead
Sarasota
What I discovered today, which absolutely floored me, was John Bumstead's own first-hand retelling of the moment that he met Con:
>A lazy, warm, sunny Saturday afternoon. Sitting on the back steps enjoying the flowers, mother squirrel on the huge sunflower nibbling seeds. For want of something to do, I wandered into the neighbor's parking lot and to the front gate leading into th alley. I leaned on the gate aimlessly studying the colored pieces of gravel.
Then, I became aware of being watched.
I turned my head slowly. There he was - a big apricot-colored cat with his furry tail straight up and staring at me.
I said, "Who owns you, you magnificent cat?"
He meowed, which later came to mean, "Nobody." I put my hand out. He came, smelled, and brushed the hand.
I picked him up. He seemed to expect it, purring loudly. After a bit I put him down. And that was it. He followed me home, and thereafter he owned me body and soul with his charm, and affection, and loyalty. I was his servant from then on.
John Bumstead
He really loved that cat.