The Cat Came Back

Lawrence rang the doorbell a fifth time. “God damn it!” he muttered. Where’s the nurse? It was costing him $195 a day for 24-hour care for his mother, yet no one was here to answer the damned door! He stormed back to his car. Even though the money he was paying to Peaceful Passages was his mother’s and not his, every penny wasted was a penny he wouldn’t receive as part his inheritance, and that ticked him off. He was also irritated because while her doctors agreed that Dorothy was ready for hospice care, they refused to hazard a guess as to when she might actually die. Instead of looking more wan and weak, she seemed to be pinker and more cheerful every day.

Lawrence pulled his phone from the glove compartment and punched in the number to complain to the hospice provider, when he saw the small second-floor window above the porch open. A brown face appeared and the Filipina nurse, Mary, called out, “Mr. Kennedy! I can’t come to the door right now. I‘m bathing your mother and I can’t leave her alone. I’ll be down in fifteen minutes!”

Lawrence cursed under his breath and stowed his phone away. With several minutes to waste he decided to have a smoke as he surveyed the house that would soon be his. While some people might feel sentimental about their childhood home, Lawrence could hardly wait until he could plant a FOR SALE sign in the front yard.

He had just flicked his cigarette butt into the sewer grate when the door opened, and Mary let him in.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, Mr. Kennedy.”

“How’s she doing today?”

“She’s in a good mood! I’m about to fix her some lunch. Do you want anything? A ham sandwich?”

“Sure,” said Lawrence, thinking, Since I’m paying for it.

He went up the impressive, curved staircase to the second floor and into his mother’s bedroom. He found her wearing a pink nightgown, sitting in a chair by the window, absently stroking a small satin pillow on her lap while humming a vaguely familiar tune. She looked up at him with dreamy eyes.

“Lawrence! Oh, my goodness! I’ve had so many visitors this morning!”

“Really?” Lawrence sat in the rocking chair near her. “Who?”

The old woman began to count on her fingers. “First it was Leah Davies. Do you remember her?”

Lawrence shook his head.

“She used to live next door to us when you were little. I hadn’t seen her for such a long time. And then Mrs. Maher dropped by, and then Roger, and now, you!”

“Who’s Roger?” asked Lawrence.

His mother gave him a sly, sideways smile. “Don’t you think it’s about time you two made up? I’ll bet you can’t even remember what it was that you fought about.”

Lawrence looked at her for a long moment before asking, “Roger, my brother?”

In June 1994, Roger had attempted to mend a broken heart by going on a bender in Las Vegas with Lawrence’s credit card in his pocket. By the time Roger sobered up, Lawrence was $50,000 in debt. Lawrence had succumbed to his mother’s pleas that he drop the charges against his younger brother. In exchange, Roger had agreed to pay Lawrence’s creditors. That worked fine for about six months, until Roger drove his car into a telephone pole at 90 miles per hour, leaving Lawrence with no recourse.

His mother began to softly sing the tune she had been humming: “He tried and tried to give the cat away, he gave it to a man goin’ far away, but the cat came back the very next day…." She smiled at Lawrence. "Do you remember that song when you were little? You used to love it when Roger sang it to you!" She continued to softly sing, "The cat came back, the very next day, the cat came back….”

Mary came up the stairs with a tray of sandwiches and lemonade. Lawrence asked her, “May I speak to you, privately?”

Mary nodded and Lawrence followed her out onto the stair landing.

“Mary, is it possible my mother may have overdosed on one of her medications?”

She looked shocked. “I don’t see how that could possibly happen!”

“Are you sure? She insists that my brother came to visit her this morning! He’s been dead for fifteen years!”

Mary said, "I only give her the medicine that the doctor says. I follw the directions," and handed him a sandwich on a plate.

Lawrence scowled. As soon as Mary left the room he went into the hallway to place a call to Peaceful Passages to explain the situation and complain.

“Mr. Kennedy, people in hospice often communicate with relatives and friends who have passed away. It’s quite normal,” said Dr. Martinez, the director of the program.

“It’s normal to see ghosts?”

“It was in a brochure along with the materials you received when you contracted with us to care for your mother. The hallucinations aere an effect of the brain shutting down. Some people believe the dying patient may be spending time on ‘the other side.’ The important thing for you to remember is that these visions are often very comforting to the patient. They fear death less. It helps them make the transition. It can be harmful if frinds or family members let on that they think their loved one is crazy or hallucinating. It’s disrespectful to them and non-acceptance of their experience can cause great agitation. I’m sure you don’t want to increase your mother’s suffering at this time.”

Lawrence tried to control his rising irritation, being lectured to. “So, I’m just supposed to play along?”

“Yes. That’s best. It might even be helpful if you engage your mother in conversations about her visitors. As abnormal as the experience is to you, you should try to treat your mother as normally as possible, so she’ll feel loved and accepted by you.”

Lawrence had a wispy memory of Dr. Martinez mentioning the phenomenon. “Of course,” he said. “I’ll do my best to keep that in mind.”

“That’s very good, Mr. Kennedy."

He snapped his phone closed and steeled himself to reenter his mother’s room, where he found her taking impossibly tiny nibbles of her lunch. Lawrence glumly ate his sandwich.

Mary came back into the room. "Mr. Kennedy? Are you planning to be here for a while? I wasn’t able to pick up one of your mother’s prescriptions this morning and I have to go back to the pharmacy. I can be back in about 40 minutes.”

“Take your time,” said Lawrence, making a dismissive motion with his hand. He'd already promised himself to spend a few hours a day with his mother. That’s what a good son would do.

“I’ll lock the door when I leave,” said Mary, and she descended the long staircase to the foyer.

Lawrence decided to follow the doctor's advice. “So, what did Roger have to say?” he asked, peevishly.

“Oh, he’s doing very well! He has his own business, now. He told me to tell you he’s quite successful!”

Did he tell you to tell me he’s sorry? Lawrence thought, bitterly. I’d have been more successful if I hadn’t had to pay back your huge debt.

His own vehemence surprised him. Despite the passing of so many years, Lawrence had not yet been able to forgive his brother.

“Oh!” his mother said. “And guess who else came to see me? Moxie!”

Lawrence sank into the rocking chair. “Moxie the cat?”

“Yes! Such a good kitty… I’ve missed him so much. I never found out what became of him.”

Lawrence felt himself flinch. He knew very well where the huge black cat went. He’d gone into a pillowcase that Lawrence had tied shut and then thrown into the little pond at the back of the golf course. Lawrence had watched as the frantic, howling cat had struggled in its shroud as it sank into the tannin-stained water. He remembered feeling a little sorry then—it hadn’t been his intention to torture the animal—he had wanted only to get rid of it, after nearly tripping over the damned thing on the stairs.

At the time, he'd felt his act justified. The cat was a menace and a danger to his mother! It wasn’t until later, when he watched her grieving for her pet, that he wished he hadn’t done it.

“Do you remember Moxie?” she asked him.

“Of course, Mother.”

She gave him another sideways glance. “You didn’t like him very much. You kicked him once.”

“Mother, he was always on the stairs! It was dangerous! He could have killed you.”

“But he always slept in the same spot, in that patch of sun under the skylight. You shouldn't have kicked him." Then she smiled. "Do you remember that song that Roger used to sing to you about the farmer who tries to get rid of his cat?" She began to sing the tune again, “The cat came back—”

“Yes, Mother. You’ve already mentioned that.”

She appeared not to hear him, and loked out the window. “Has it been raining, Lawrence? When Moxie came back, he was all wet. Do you know how Moxie got all wet?”

Lawrence had had enough. “Mother, stop it! Stop talking like a crazy person! Moxie didn’t come back! Your old neighbors haven’t come to visit you! Roger didn’t come to see you! He’s dead! They’re all dead! ”

The doorbell rang. Lawrence leapt up, knocking over his mother’s lunch tray as he did. “That’s probably your nurse, back from her errand,” he said. “I’ve got to open the door for her.”

***

Mary rang the doorbell again and again. Eventually, she called the fire department. When they opened the door they found Lawrence lying in a heap at the bottom of the staircase. It appeared he'd broken his neck in a fall. Upstairs in her room, his mother sat in her chair, absently petting her pillow.

Mary ran to her and touched her hand. “Mrs. Kennedy! I’m so sorry! Something’s happened to your son—”

“I know. I told him the cat came back, but he didn’t listen.” She turned to address the now-empty rocking chair. “He never did like our cat, did he, Roger?”