[This post has been sitting in my draft folder since late June. It’s not about coaching or wellness or caregiving. It’s about a cat. When we lost Liam, I needed to write this, but felt I didn’t need to post it. Today, I’m ready to share. Thank you and give your fur babies hugs from me.]

Pets have a special place in our hearts. They fill us up with their sweet love and nothing is quite as heartbreaking as losing them.

Our fur babies have all been special, but none has been as unique or puzzling as our Snowshoe Siamese, Liam.

Our first experience with Snowshoe Siamese cats was our little Max, purchased at a farmstand with the official papers of a pedigree. He was smart and sweet and chattered and meowed and brought us great joy. We were smitten with the breed. When we lost him, we were crushed and I began a search for another. This time, we’d look for a rescue.

Liam was housed at a shelter not far away. It’s possible he was a cousin to Max. He and his cat sibling and dog bro were orphaned and surrendered to the shelter when their human parent died in the early days of the Covid pandemic. He was not bonded to his cat sibling, so we felt comfortable adopting him and hoping he would become friends with Oliver, our lonely grey cat, who had been left as a single cat by the loss of Max.

Liam was 10 years old, considered a senior. He was an indoor/outdoor cat**, also a deterrent to adoption. Once out, it is difficult to keep a cat in. As handsome as he was, pedigree and all, we thought there was a chance he would linger long in the shelter. Since Ollie was 11 and allowed to venture outdoors supervised or on a lead, why not give him a chance?

After the initial slow and somewhat rocky introduction, Ollie and Liam became good friends, sometimes grooming and sleeping close to each other. Liam was a talker, a squeaky, annoying, Siamese voice that only a mother could love. When he was at the window viewing the outdoor world, he chattered at the birds and critters. Though Liam proved to be mostly easy going, he didn’t suffer fools. There were spots on his body you COULD NOT touch without a nip or a scratch. Unlike Ollie, he wasn’t afraid of our visiting grand dogs and always let them know with a hearty hiss and swipe who was alpha in our house. He enjoyed lap time on his terms, always an honor to the chosen human, and found the very best spots of sunlight to nap on cold winter days.

After a full year plus of acclimating to his new home, he began to insist on venturing outdoors. He and Ollie were buds and I never worried about him wandering, because Oliver was a homebody.

When Ollie died of cancer early in 2024, it seemed we were a content family of seniors, two humans, one feline. A bit boring, but we were okay. Liam would venture out and back again. He always came when we called at curfew, checked in frequently throughout the day, and his midday snooze was usually on the bed. We never left the house if he wasn’t indoors.

Months after we lost Oliver, the spring itch of kitten season hit. Why not get Liam a baby brother? We would keep him as an indoor cat only. We were planning a trip to Maine in early June and would finalize our kitten plan upon our return. A friend agreed to stay at our house and keep watch over Liam. A plan was in place.

The day before our return home, our friend and house/cat sitter called in a panic. Liam had not come home the day before. She had looked and called everywhere. We are in a rural and farming area of meadows and fields. Homes are spread out and sparce. She searched the blueberry farm next door, as well as the barn and vacant old farmhouse across the road. She was at her wit’s end. While she continued to look, I spent the next few hours posting on social media including a local “pet connection” sponsored by an Albany TV station. I called and sent texts to the neighbors I knew, asked them to spread the word, and prepared to return home certain he would be back.

Arriving home, fully prepared to see him, we were devasted to find an empty home and front porch. As the days passed, I decided to contact a highly recommended “cat communicator” who told me Liam was dead. (Who does that? Okay, I said I wanted to know. But really?) I still didn’t give up. Each night before bed, I called out the front door for him. I expanded the search with flyers in mailboxes. There’s nothing like a missing pet to bring a neighborhood together. I had more support than I ever could’ve imagined.

The kitten plan was still in place. Twelve days after Liam’s disappearance, we adopted a tabby from a rescue. Jasper. Tiny. Cute. Energetic. Adapting well to our home. Little did we know that he came with a little extra something. (RINGWORM. But that’s another story.)

Twenty four hours later, I received a private Facebook message from a woman who lived about a mile away. She and her neighbor had night photos of a cat on a security and trail cams. Was it Liam?

YES! It was Liam. He had traveled more than a mile from home and was alive!

My neighbors, Monica and Cathy, were delighted to help. Yes, I could set a trap. Yes, they would keep an eye out and monitor cameras. Monica worked for a local organization that searched for missing dogs. This would be her first CAT! She walked me through how to create a highly visible flyer to go up on telephone poles and Cathy offered her printing services at her realty office. With Monica’s help, the flyers went up in the two mile radius of where he was spotted. Monica set up more trail cams in strategic places on their adjoining properties. I contacted their neighbor up the road to check her cameras and got permission to search their barns.

And we waited. And searched. And waited. And searched. And waited.

Little Jasper got more acclimated to his new surroundings. We were entertained by his kittenness. Is there anything cuter than a kitten with a catnip mouse in his mouth hopping sideways across the tile floor? Every day I would take my morning walk in the direction Liam had ventured, periodically calling out to him. I took my car to the area later in the day to call and call. My son helped me, but finally convinced me it was futile to search through fields. Instead, he would set me up with security and trail cams.

Each night, before going to bed, I went on the front porch and called for Liam, told him it was safe to come home. That he had a baby brother.

Early on July 3rd, Jasper was hopping about in his usual way. Happy with the world as he knew it. He stopped short suddenly. His whole body did that Halloween cat thing! Arched back, tail puffed, completely still. I followed his gaze and there, on the front porch, was Liam! Returned!

I rushed Jasper into the half bath, yelled to Win that Liam was home, and let him in. He couldn’t stop meowing! He was a mess. Lost his tick collar and ID collar, had scratches all over him, as well as a few ticks. We hustled him into the master suite, as it certainly wasn’t time to meet baby Jasper. Quarantine, for now. Food, water, and litter box in our room while he recovered and so we could have him checked by the vet. He had been gone for 22 days! Outdoors during brutal hot weather, horrific thunderstorms, torrential downpours!

How did he manage? Where did he go? Was he looking for us? Was he trying to get back to his former home thinking he had been abandoned? Was he chased by a fox or coyote? Did he then go the wrong way trying to find his way back? Did he follow my scent home? Did someone recognize him and return him because his face was plastered on our mailbox?

We will never know. It is the stuff of imagination, fantasies, and children’s books.

The nicknames followed. LeeLee the Adventurer. Liam the Secret Keeper. LeeLee the Searcher. Leebo Baggins, cousin to Frodo, Bilbo’s other nephew, whose 22 day travel took him There and Back Again.

Two years have passed since Liam’s great adventure. Two young tabby cats have joined our family. Liam, extremely tolerant as he is, never really bonded with Jasper, so we adopted another kitten last year to play with Jasper and leave the old Hobbit-cat to his cantankerous ways. To our surprise, Liam actually began to play with both of them, calling them, taunting them with his Siamese-ness, racing around the house reclaiming his inner kitten.

I am heartbroken to report that Liam left us on the first day of Summer, after a short decline, two years since his great adventure. Liam has taken his secret to the Rainbow Bridge. I like to picture him meeting his former human person, a tragic victim of Covid. As well as his pet siblings, including Oliver. I hope there is such a place. There is nothing I would like more than to meet my sweet Liam again. Rest in peace, dear kitty. We loved you so and miss you still.

** About indoor/outdoor cats: I grew up with cats. We lived in a wooded area of Westchester County, NY, and my parents allowed our cats indoor/outdoor access. There was a cat door in our basement for them to come and go if we weren’t there to let them in. I never gave the consequences a thought, even when on occasion a beloved cat disappeared. After a brief stent of city and suburban living, I moved to rural Upstate NY, where I began my own cat parenting. It never occurred to me to raise them differently until I experienced first hand the dangers to cats who go outdoors from coyotes and cars. Plus a cat’s instinct insists that they hunt. Mouse? Okay. Yes, please. Songbird? NOT okay. I used bells on my cats, which seemed to help warn the birds. Our current kitties will be kept indoors. If we didn’t have our second story porch with windows looking out to trees and meadows to entertain our tabbies, I would consider a catio. Look it up! Meow!