Pet Stories
For the Love of Chowie
Submitted By: Laurie Hartman
I had never lived alone in my life; and at the age of 28, I mustered up the courage to live by myself. I found a nice apartment near my work that had a lovely older couple as managers, which made me feel a little less alone. The wife, Martie, explained the apartment rules, which included “No Pets” without paying a hefty cleaning deposit. I told her it was, “Just me!” and never thought about it again.
My apartment was upstairs with a nice balcony overlooking the pool. I filled my new home with plants and relished the fresh air from the ocean as it came in through my balcony door. Most days after work, I would sit in my living room and marvel at the quiet and solitude one feels when living alone. I tried to enjoy my own company—and most of the time I did.
A few weeks went by and I was feeling settled in, when I noticed I had a visitor on my balcony. She sat at the window watching me—tail flipping side-to-side—as she looked into my home with unabashed curiosity. I love cats, and this one was beautiful; part Himalayan and part Calico. After a few minutes she left, jumping down onto my neighbor’s fence. I didn’t see her again for a couple of days, but on Sunday she reappeared. She began “talking” to me—a very insistent request to open the screen door—NOW! I opened the door. She scampered in, still “talking,” while she proceeded to explore the apartment. Then, she came over and wanted some of the breakfast I was eating. I fed that cat an entire piece of toast before she decided it was time to go, and off the balcony she went once again.
When I got home from work the next day, there she was, sitting patiently at the balcony door. I let her in and she settled on the couch. I made myself some dinner and as I sat down to eat, she immediately appeared on the chair to my right. Laughing, I prepared her a plate with everything on it that I was eating. She ate every bite—including salad and broccoli—before she went.
The next day, she arrived and just never left. I named her Chowie because she was a chow hound; she never turned down an opportunity for a meal or treat. I found out from Martie that she lived with tenants in our complex who owned her and another cat. I had been thinking that she was lost, or had somehow ended up with me by accident. I couldn’t believe that anyone would give up such a beautiful and entertaining cat. Now it made perfect sense—Chowie had made the decision to move up to better accommodations! But before I could get a chance to talk to her owners they moved away without a word to the managers, taking their other cat with them and leaving Chowie behind. I was amazed!
Then, as the amazement faded, I started to worry—how was I going to come up with the hefty deposit required for pets? When I asked Martie, she told me not to worry. Chowie’s previous owners had paid a cat deposit when they moved in and she would apply their deposit to my apartment. I was astounded and grateful.
Chowie and I lived happily together for a year before I welcomed my new husband into the fold. Being a cat person, he loved her and Chowie loved him. Life went on smoothly for the three of us.
The following year brought an entirely new adventure—a baby boy named Connor. That cat watched over Connor like he was her own kitten. When he cried, Chowie would come running out to me as if to say, “Hurry, hurry, he needs you!” When he took a nap on the couch, she would curl up and take her nap too. As a toddler, Connor would “pat” his kitty (which was more of a whack than a pat, but she never moved.) As he grew, she often slept with him in his bed—under the covers, of course.
I never did know how old Chowie was when she “adopted” me, but she lived happily with the three of us for 13 years before passing on from old age. I’ll never forget her, and how that little girl came into my life when I was lonely and needed her the most. She only left when God called her home.
I know that one day we will play again, and I’ll be ready with my plate of salad and broccoli—just the way she likes it.
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