Stella Bella: Where are you?

Stella is lost. The last time I saw her was Saturday afternoon, strolling through the lawn dressed for fall in leaves of golden orange. Breakfast had not stayed well in her tummy that morning. At this time of year, she loves to chew on catmint and grass. Not a fan of cold and wet under her feet, she waits until the sun has warmed the air before going out for a sojourn. Where is she? We’ve been together five years, enjoying our cottage and yard near the river. By sunset, she should have been home mooching for something more. Stella struggles with the change of season, so I was considering different quality cat foods. But, what about the birds, mice and frogs she has chomped on. How can she get sick on cat food, yet ingest wildlife? Princess Stella makes herself cozy on the top of pillows. She meets me when I pull in the driveway at the end of the workday. Her meow still sounds like a tiny kitten. Last week, she ran through the pet door in a panic just before the wild turkey strolled out of the woods. Stella knows when it’s wise to hide. So, what happened? Where is Stella?

Stellina is her official name, Italian for little star. On her neck, she has a diamond shaped patch of white. There’s also a spot on her back paw, as if she stepped in cream and hadn’t quite licked it off yet. Otherwise, she is a soft warm shade of gray fur. Her nose and beanie toes are gray. She came to my home on a freezing cold day in January from a household with one too many cats. Stella apparently was irksome to the others. At the time, I already had a house cat. Tesoro was a three-year-old shelter cat and we’d been together for about a year. Unfortunately, Tesoro hadn’t socialized well to humans and preferred to keep me at a distance. He hadn’t once meowed, refused to play chase the string and couldn’t be touched. Exasperated at his standoffish behavior, his foster mom suggested a soft squashy cube shaped cat cushion saying he loved to snuggle in there. He did, but he also let me reach in and scratch his ears finally. I thought, maybe he needs a companion.

The blending of the two cats was a challenge for a few months. I recall having to separate them at night due to territory hassles under the bed. Stella stayed in my bedroom overnight for a chance to rest and be safe. They didn’t actually fight each other but neither did they make friends. The shift to acceptance happened and Stella became our beloved queen. Physically, Stella has a chunky little shape with a short tail. Her shoulders are heavy but her face is small and dainty. In April of the first year, I encouraged her to explore the back yard. On mild weekend afternoons, she was invited to explore the yard while I did a garden chore. At first, she stayed close to the house and learned to use the pet door. Our yard is long, bordered by mature trees leading down to the railroad tracks. Beyond the tracks is the Quaboag River. A fifteen-minute walk leads down narrow streets with tidy homes into the downtown. It becomes rural the farther one travels out of town. She never strayed far, preferring to discover the lawn and gardens. At first, an hour was enough playtime but gradually, she would stay out for an entire afternoon. Meanwhile, Tesoro was daunted at the thought of going into the cellar. The only way to reach the pet door into the backyard was through the walk out basement. He would hover on the top steps meowing for Stella but too scared to follow her.

Stella is an adapter. Her instincts show her catitude to be spot on. She settled in with us and we found a pattern to our lives. Every evening, the expectation was she came in around suppertime and stayed in all night. I was wary of the many night creatures that might find her a tasty meal. And, she was a fair weather. So, Tesoro and Stella snuggled together on the window perch basking in winter sunlight. They cuddled on the sofa taking long cat snoozes. Stella was easy to pick up and play with. Tesoro watched us intently and came out of himself enough to play chase the string from time to time. A year went by before Tesoro found the nerve to walk outdoors. I was surprised to see him one Sunday come into the backyard and dash into the basement. The day was so mild, all the doors were open to welcome in the warm breezes. He found his courage and started to step outside his comfort zone. Stella was the motivation. He adored her and the separation pushed him to follow.

Years rolled by with us as a little family. Stella insisted on sitting in my lap, sleeping on me each night and being affectionate in every way. She provided mouse meals routinely. Occasionally, especially in fall, the wild ancestor genes in her psyche took over and she would not come in for the night. There was the safety of the sun porch but the sliding glass entry to the basement proper had to be locked because of the cold. I will not run a furnace with a door open. I would find her the next day, huddled up next to the stonewall, warming herself by the rising sun.

She is lost. It’s a long week know since she vanished. I did check our street looking for her crushed body. I checked the yard looking for remains. Where did she go? No, the local vet hadn’t received an injured cat that week. No, the animal control officer didn’t either. How strange to walk in the house and not find her there. Tesoro has always been first in line for dinner and still is. If Stella has crossed the rainbow bridge, I wish a sign would be shared to let me know that’s her fate. The nothingness is hard. She left a knowing of how complex and lively one little animal can be. She helped Tesoro find his courage to accept the human and enjoy slouching on Mom in the evenings. The weekend chore of house cleaning will show the little things left behind by Stella. The vacuum will take away the gray fur from the carpet or table. How she is missed. Missing Stella.