The further adventures of Sootie the wanderer

The Saga of Sootie (previously misspelled) the cat continues. The gray wanderer lasted exactly one month after my friend carted him home to her cush barn with its heated beds and gourmet canned food and ample feline companionship. He seemed at first to settle in after his weeks-long absence. He was even back to being best buds with his brother Smudge.

Who knows how a cat thinks. He arrived back with us last week — where, believe me, we offer him absolutely nothing. He's on his own.

If he could people speak I can almost hear him say — ”And that's just how I like it.”

It seems he's all about doing things for himself. Setting his own agenda.

I remember asking my mother what she was most proud of in her life. She answered that she was an independent person.

I responded, “Isn't that interesting — the thing you're most proud of is the thing I'm trying to get.”

I was in my 50s when I wanted a turn for a solo adventure. Early in our marriage my husband Terry had spent a year on the Alaska Pipeline construction project.

I headed the opposite direction — Pasadena, California — where I cared for my 100-year-old aunt who had parted ways with yet another caregiver. I'd gone for her century celebration and wakened the following morning with the thought, “Why can't I come and do this?”

I saw her through to 101. With her short-term memory loss she never quite figured out I was her niece. But she sensed a connection. She would say, “We just belong together.”

It was hard to leave everything familiar and navigate new territory. My cousin, who is older and whom I didn't know well, lived in a cabin up a canyon in West Hills. I had to memorize the maze of freeways to get her mother there for visits.

I'd barely arrived in the state when this cousin hosted an outdoor Thanksgiving dinner — which I was going to help cook. I rounded the corner to the kitchen, grocery sacks in hand, only to encounter a huge dead rat on the floor.

Where was Sootie when I needed him. Rats are way out of my league.

That year away on my own — having my adventures — can best be described in a dream I had while I was there. I stood watching myself fly — an ordinary goose extraordinarily covered in colorful peacock feathers — and from the ground looking up I said of myself, “She's really working hard, isn't she.”

I returned home with new confidence. Terry said I came back “a woman who knows who she is.”

So I understand Sootie. And his protector — my friend — and I have had a talk. He's taken up residence here twice now. If he wants his back-to-the-barn life he'll find his way there. She's agreed to let him stay. On his own.

Just the way he likes it.