Cats like doors left open, in case they change their minds.
~Rosemary Nisbet
We knew she wouldn’t be a typical housecat when we first encountered Lylah. We had adopted her and a littermate at a street fair, quite by chance. A small bundle of jet-black fur, tinted with brown and smoke-gray undertones, the little kitten with large, amber eyes made it clear from the start that she would be marching to her own drummer.
Lylah was not a cuddly girl. Her medium-long fur was like glistening satin, and she quickly established her panther-like credentials by becoming the best mouser of our four cats. She was mischievous, always poking her nose into places that were supposedly off-limits. Our gang of four routinely spent their days exploring or lounging in the sun. But Lylah was a bit of a lone wolf, more interested in chasing lizards or field mice, climbing a tree, or rolling herself up in a carpet.
Our three other cats didn’t always cozy up to Lylah, but that suited her just fine. While not interested in cuddling, she was very loyal to me. Every morning, she’d lick my face until she was satisfied that I was sufficiently groomed to face the world.
The years passed, and our furry family changed. Lylah lost her three feline companions and our dog wasn’t really a suitable substitute. After a respectful period of time, we adopted Koka, a rambunctious kitten who turned out to be more of an annoyance than a partner. Lylah was not a happy camper.
Then, to make things worse, came our move from California to Michigan. The furniture went by van, Charles took the dog in his car, and I piled the two cats in mine. Off we drove, stopping along the way in motels that allowed pets. Everything went well until our fateful stay at Motel 6 in Laramie, Wyoming.
As we loaded the cars to leave Laramie, Charles opened the door to let our old dog out. I loaded Koka into his crate, and then turned to gather up Lylah, but she was nowhere to be found. She had slipped out beside the dog, quickly disappearing into a vast, open space behind the motel that was being excavated for a new development.
I was frantic. Charles put Koka and the dog in the cars, and then joined me in walking for hours searching for Lylah. Broken-hearted, we finally had to leave in order to meet the van with the furniture at our new house. We gave the office manager a description of Lylah and left my phone number.
Lylah had been wearing a bright, pink collar and tags, and was (blessedly) microchipped. I called the registry, Home Again, to report her missing and provide our new address in Michigan. Next, I contacted the Laramie Animal Control officer and designed a flyer, which was circulated electronically to all the vets and rescue groups in the area of the motel.
We prayed a lot. Lylah was a resourceful girl, an accomplished outdoor explorer and hunter. She had run away from home a few times over the years, and after posting flyers and searching our neighborhood, we recovered her every time. Yet this was different; we were driving in the opposite direction from where she had seen us last.
We continued checking in with Home Again and Laramie Animal Control several times a day from Michigan. The days stretched into weeks, and we could only hope Lylah would be found by some loving person who would turn her into the shelter, or adopt and love her for life.
Then, we got the call. Lylah had been found! According to the shelter director, Lylah had returned to the room we vacated after she tired of her great adventure. The door had been left wide open by the cleaning staff one day and she apparently slipped in thinking that we were there. When the door was closed, she was trapped without food or water, except for what she got from the toilet bowl.
Days later, the room was rented to another guest who asked for a pet-friendly room so he could enjoy the evening with his dog. As he related later, when he opened the door, a beautiful black cat with huge amber eyes was sitting on a chair staring at him. He shut the door and ran to the office.
“I didn’t mean a room with a pet already in it… I brought my own!” he exclaimed. The manager quickly realized that it must be Lylah, and contacted Animal Control. They successfully captured her and turned her over to the shelter, where the director was almost as thrilled as we were.
Springing Lylah from a Wyoming shelter while we were ensconced in our new Michigan home turned out to be a bit of a challenge. She had to be checked out by a vet and then crated in an appropriate carrier. Then they had to find a volunteer to take her to the airport in Cheyenne… an hour’s drive away. They found that amazing volunteer, who worked with dog rescues and was used to shuttling lost pets. He drove an hour from Cheyenne to pick her up, boarded her overnight at his home, and got her on a plane to Detroit. Home Again made all her travel arrangements and paid for her flight… all part of their service, as she had been found over 500 miles from our home. Amazing!
When we picked up Lylah at the Detroit Metro Airport, she was noticeably thinner. She was greeted by a very happy kitten and dog, not to mention the overwhelming affection Charles and I showered on “Miss Adventure,” as we took to calling her. While she enjoyed the views of her new world from the many windows in our Michigan house, she never again appeared interested in venturing out into the world. That, and her new habit of drinking water from the toilet bowl, were the only reminders of her Wyoming travels.
First rescued at ten weeks of age, Lylah was rescued again at age fourteen. If cats truly have nine lives, I wonder how many she had before the two she shared with us. Lylah, our “Miss Adventure,” will always be remembered as one of a kind!
~Sue Ross
