I met Cheech at Lincoln Park in West Seattle on a cold autumn day in 2022 and our friendship continued into 2023.
I kept a zip-lock baggie of bonito flakes, which he liked to lick from my hands, in my car. Other people in the community brought him cans of sardines and paused to pet him. Someone even transformed a doghouse into his sleeping quarters and set it in the brush.
Today when I visit Cheech’s hang-out, I do not find him. Only the doghouse.
I met his owner once. She said Cheech was born to be wild. But she made sure he was micro-chipped. I noticed that Cheech had no collar and tags. Was the micro-chip enough to locate him?
Did Cheech die in the wild? Was he at the mercy of racoons, bald eagles, or coyotes? And what about Cheech’s owner? Had she abandoned him? Or maybe Cheech abandoned her? How was the ju-ju in the human’s house?
Where is our community cat?
I miss Cheech’s warmth and his purrs when he lapped up my bonito flakes.