When My Cat Ghosted Me, My Local Community Stood Up
I guess you could say that my cat ghosted me. And while that is a good story, it’s not the one I’m here to tell.
In early fall, one of my cats, Kai, a black year-old male, dashed onto the terrace to chase a butterfly, and despite diligent efforts to lure him back, he’s yet to return home. Searching for a lost cat is an overwhelming task, the most challenging part of which is keeping hope alive. And were it not for the kindness and compassion of my community over the last few months, I would’ve given up.
First a little context
I’ve lived in a densely populated neighborhood in Downtown Brooklyn for the last six years. When I moved here from my childhood home, I was hopeful that the proximity of my neighbors would create an instant community, kind of like a college dorm. Well, I was wrong.
Roughly 40% of New York City residents live alone, myself included (if you don’t count my fur babies). The other 60% are like my neighbors, partnered or married with children and dogs. As a result, they have a built-in social network the minute they walk out the door.
As an extrovert, I seek out community wherever possible through yoga, writing, and online neighborhood groups, like the Buy Nothing Project. The hyperlocal community of the neighbor next door is a super hard sell. For example, aside from the folks in my building, I knew a handful of the 100 neighbors at a recent block party. And attempts to engage were thwarted by conversations about school zoning laws and admissions, topics in which I have little to no interest.
Kai goes missing
And yet, when Kai went missing, I had no choice but to engage with everyone, operationalizing my search online and off.
If you have ever lost a pet, you know how daunting it can be.
According to the Lost Pet Research project, most indoor/outdoor cats travel no more than 250 feet from their home base, although there have been instances where cats have wandered as far as 20 miles or more. Kai is a friendly, curious cat, and so I cast a wide berth, crossing neighborhood lines to post signs and enlisting friends near and far to activate their networks. That first week it seemed like an army had mobilized to reunite my family.
The outpouring of support was extraordinary, as folks circulated Kai’s poster to Reddit channels, Lost Animal networks, building intranets, and local newspapers. Concerned animal lovers have been on high alert looking for a friendly black male cat with a jagged left ear and a chirpy meow. Groups in adjacent neighborhoods self-mobilized, sending me texts with photos and videos of black cats that could be Kai, although none of them were. In the following weeks, I soon learned that my community was much larger than I thought.
The kindness of strangers
When your pet is missing, it’s hard not to feel compelled to check out any potential lead, no matter how far-flung. So I found myself traveling to Bedford-Stuyvesant, Crown Heights, and the Gowanus, just in case.
On one rainy day, I followed up with a family in Prospect Heights who was convinced Kai was hiding in a car’s engine. Our motley crew of four adults and three kids attempted to lure the feline from its hiding place, armed with tuna, sardines, a couple of brooms, and a butterfly net. We were not successful.
Another day, a woman named Erika reached out with a video of a cat she had coaxed into her apartment. “Did you want to come to see if it’s Kai?” How could I not? So I went (with a friend in tow) to check it out. Unfortunately, the friendly cat was not Kai, but I’m pretty sure he is now the companion to Erika’s resident cat Eros.
I met the most beautiful people, kind, caring, loving humans who restored my faith in the power of community. Neighbors like Mary Beth, Tara, and Lisa came together to help a black cat in their shared courtyards. Parents like Albert and Kate, who live in the same building but had never met, had FaceTimed a garden location of a possible Kai sighting. And folks like Nicole and Heidi, who had lost touch during the pandemic and rekindled a friendship. There are many anecdotes I could share of folks trying in earnest to reunite this woman with her cat.
Taking a Paws
I’m not giving up hope that Kai will return one day, although I’m pausing my efforts to ‘find’ him for a moment of reflection. His absence brings many lessons, most of which are the unexpected gifts of community. And for that, I am grateful.
