There is a cat that lives in my backyard, on my steps. She lives a very elegant life for an outside cat, having a cat tree, an insulated container, and consistent food and water catering. She ended up living with us years ago, after the last owners of the house threw her outside and left without looking back. She adapted to the weather and lifestyle that nature pushed onto her and doesn’t seem to mind enduring what life outside has to offer. 

Sandy, like most cats at some point in their lives, developed a urinary tract infection. Despite being easily treatable, her past owners felt that it would be too much work to help her, and decided that the only solution would be to throw her outside. She’s lived outside for nearly seven years, and four of those years consisted of her suffering from her UTI. 

Finally, we got possession of her. We didn’t yet know that we were in care of her because we never saw her. She was like a mythical creature, one of legend; we’d heard stories of her existence, but saw no solid proof. She might live under the house, maybe she’s in the scary bush in the corner of the yard, maybe she’s been dead the whole time – these are all theories we concocted to try to answer the questions we had about the cat who we had inadvertently bought with the house. 

One fateful day, she slinked up our patio in search of a meal, seeing that there were now new inhabitants on her land. She was nothing like we were expecting. From the tales we’d spun, the situation we knew she must’ve struggled through, and the attributes of her identity that we had assumed, we were under the impression that “Sandy” would look a little more rugged than she actually did. 

Sandy was terribly skittish and paranoid when I first met her. She would dart into the veil of the night whenever something moved too suddenly or a noise was a little too loud. She seemed to feel threatened by everything in her world; I didn’t know how she had made it this far in her life by being so frantic. If I did see her rare appearances during those times, it wasn’t long before she would run off; progress was slow but worth every second. 

Through time, patience, and trust, I befriended Sandy. No one else in my family could get as close to her as I could. No one tried to spend time with her and build a relationship with her like me. I put all this effort into getting closer with her, and in return, I got a chance to uncover the life of our unique backdoor neighbor. 

Every year, there’s this depressing feeling that rolls into my household’s mindset like a storm: it’s growing cold outside. The weather’s warm qualities shift out as quickly as they came in, and that leaves Sandy outside in the cold. Sure she’s been living out there for a while, and she’s survived all the winters thus far, but I can’t handle the idea of her being out there in the frigid climate more than she has to be. Though I know that she doesn’t appreciate the below-freezing weather, she’s so used to it that she’s become apprehensive of being coaxed back inside. Through trial and error, my family was finally able to successfully have Sandy indoors during harsh snow and stormy conditions. I like to believe that she appreciates this gesture, even if she does inevitably sprint back to her chilly outside realm after an hour of exposure therapy. 

During the hotter seasons, Sandy loves living surrounded by nature. Besides eating and soaking in the sun’s rays, Sandy has some other hobbies she enjoys.

Two of the classics, Sandy loves to roll and wriggle around on the dirty patio ground. She’ll flop onto the cement and start to shimmy herself in every direction, purring and kneading her paws as she does so. Perhaps her all-time favorite thing to do comes after her dirt bath – Sandy absolutely loves to clean herself. It seems that every time she finds herself aloof with thoughts or actions, she must clean. She repeatedly swaps between the two acts, one after the other, evidently caught up in a loop of pure enrichment time. 

Another thing she embraces Mother Nature for is debris – basically any little thing scattered on the ground that she can play with. We’ve tried to expose her to a normal cat life with normal cat toys and feathers, but to no avail. Sandy is enthralled by the wind picking up tiny objects and sweeping them away. She stands as motionless as a stone figure, watching her target slowly slide away from her. Then, suddenly, she attacks. She flings herself at her prey with an astounding burst of energy. After immobilizing her victim, she gets up and walks away like nothing had happened.