Mace

Four years ago we had an awful rodent infestation in our basement. This was my opportunity to get a cat, just like my girls wanted. I’m allergic to cats but our new fluffball was going to mainly life in the basement away from my nose and itchy eyes, chasing vermin. Or so I imagined.

The girls and I eagerly went to the humane society. They, of course, wanted cute little kittens but I was looking for a killer! After talking to the employees, they hooked me up with a petite, black female that they said could be a good huntress. I took her home and we settled her down in the basement with food, water, a comfy cat bed, toys, and a name: Velcro, because her claws were so “sticky”.

Well, it wasn’t more than a day before I realized how lonely Velcro was going to be in the basement, all by herself. Sure, we went down to play and visit but it wasn’t enough for a social cat. I had to convince The Husband, who didn’t want the cat in the first place, but he loves me and so agreed to get a friend for Velcro. This time, he took our boys to the humane society and came back with a beat up, huge, timid male. He was black, like Velcro. You would have thought they were siblings as they looked identical, right down to the same white spot on their chest. But he was older and much bigger.

“Apparently another cat beat him up,” Husband said. “I couldn’t just leave him there.”

I was skeptical. This chunk of a cat was attacked by another cat? Still, we decided to move him in with Velcro. Husband named the big guy, Mace, since any attempt to pick him up resulted in all four sets of claws suddenly coming out for battle.

Mace hated Velcro. All my happy visions of two cuddly kittens was blown away by reality. Any time Velcro came near, Mace would hiss and scare her off.

He hated us people, too. Any attempt to get near to him resulted in him bouncing like a crazy ball across the basement floor, where he would disappear into the crawlspace.

Eventually we had a pest control company come out to seal off the house so rodents couldn’t get in anymore. I told them about our new cat, hiding away in the crawlspace, but they forgot and sealed the hole over with wire.

For three days after we had no idea where Mace was. We didn’t hear him or see him. Finally, he got hungry enough that he started yowling. And, of course, he wanted out while Husband was at work so I was the lucky one that got to rescue him.

I managed to peel back some of the wire but Mace didn’t want to squeeze out or come near me. And yet, he continued to yowl and press close to the wire, wanting help.

“Don’t bite me and I’ll get you out,” I said, hopeful the angry black ball of fur would have some sense of honor and not attack. I’d been attacked by a feral cat a few years earlier and was wary of irritated kitties since. Slowly I stuck my hand under the wire and, of course, he backed off. Hunger drove him forward again and I caught him by the scruff of the neck, finagled him past the wire, and set his hulking body on the floor. He immediately turned into a frantic bouncy ball again and tried to bound back into the crawlspace, but I had already closed the gap. Instead, he fled behind my canning shelves.

I was surprised he hadn’t bit or clawed me as I wrangled him out. Despite his fear, he didn’t lash out.

From there, our time together was a blur. He hid for a long time but slowly, sloooowly warmed up to Velcro and us.

After he got over his fear and stopped running, we learned Mace is just one giant lovebug. He craves attention, especially from Husband. Husband is his favorite person. Husband is the only one Mace will allow to scratch a sensitive spot on his back, near his tail. When Husband scratches him, Mace will turn and grab Husband’s arm and lick him over and over.

Mace still startles easily. I’m pretty sure he was abused somehow. If I carry any kind of tool or a random object like a cardboard box and try to walk past him, he runs in fear. If I try to adjust his bed, he freaks out and runs.

But the sweetest sight is when I step outside and see Mace and Velcro snuggling together on their cat bed. They’ll often be entwined and since they’re both black, it’s hard to tell where one cat begins and the other ends. They’ll lift sleepy eyes and blink at us like some strange two-headed creature.

So they didn’t become rodent hunters. We ended up moving and Velcro chases birds while Mace is content to be a lazy hulk, enjoying his days of leisure. I can’t imagine how their lives would have ended up, as black cats are somewhat undesirable, if we hadn’t found them. We’re blessed to have them with us.




True Story ▼

878 words
Written for: The Writer's Cramp
Prompt: write a story featuring a black cat that finds a good home
This is a true story about how we got our 2 cats, Velcro and Mace. Since then we've added two kittens, Petal and Iris, to the mix. Velcro is slowly warming up to Iris while Mace wants nothing to do with the new gals.