Last month, cat #2, Pongo, took sick and died. One Saturday morning he came to the back door, moving slowly as if in pain, entered the house, looked at me and let out a slow cry, and slunk off upstairs to hide. I might have to take him to the vet on Monday, I thought. He went out Sunday night and on Monday morning I found him stretched out on the back lawn. Gone. There was no time to mourn as we were working full-bore on the convent renovation.
A few days later, I heard a powerful scratching at the back door and looked out to see another cat. For two days he beat on the back door and jumped up onto outside window sills, staring wildly through the glass. I gave up. Now he lives here. Mr. Martin, the original cat of the house, affects not to see him. The newcomer has been named Other Kat. O.K. for short.