Never have we heard a cat that mourns. The sound comes from the throat, dry and monotonous, like a little child is about to lose his voice after a long period of crying. In the beginning we suspected the stork might have accidentally dropped a baby in our backyard. But when we went outside to investigate and we couldn’t find anything. Then one morning we looked out the window and saw a big beige and white cat lounging in the bush. It had to be the source of that unusual voice.
Our three cats were protective of their territories. I heard the haunting voice mostly at night, heart-breaking sound of a lonely soul calling out to the universe. We call him back—Mourny, Mourny—.
After many months Mourny no longer ran away at the sight of us and sometimes our cats even shared the sun with him. Mourny came very close to the cat door but failed to have the courage to come inside the house. During the rainy months Dore put a blanket inside a little plastic shelter and we knew he stayed there quite often. The first time Dore put a dish of food outside for Mourny he forgot to take the bowl back. We got raccoons checking into our house instead of our desired guest.
Somehow I don’t hear Mourny’s lament so much anymore. Maybe the occasional feeding, our voices and cat friends are what he needs.
