APBA Cat

Last April, one of the stray cats who would come to our house each evening for the bowl of food we’d leave out slinked into the garage in very apparent distress.

He was having difficulty breathing and was listless. Because my wife and I like animals much better than humans, we put the cat, who was too weak to refuse, into the cat carrier and took him to the veterinarian.

After inspecting him, the vet said the cat had heartworms and his lung capacity was very limited. It was a bad diagnosis. When he was asked him how long the cat had, the veterinarian said we should make him comfortable. He only had about a month to live, he said.

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My wife named him Elvis because he’d saunter into our backyard at nightfall, stop for whatever food we left out for him, get his pettings from us and then stroll out of the back and go to wherever he’d go to next. You could almost hear him going, “Thank you. Thank you very much,” after he ate his food.

Sometimes, he’d miss a day and we were worried he was either hit by a car or injured in some cat fight. But he’d return a day later and seemed okay. Once, during a rare Arkansas snow storm, we left our garage door opened a crack so he could ride out the cold weather. We placed an electric pet heating pad on the floor and stuffed a nylon cat cube with blankets and pillows. He failed to show up then and for at least a week we didn’t see him.

Elvis finally returned, but he had lost a lot of weight; we hoped he got out of the storm in some shelter in either someone else's garage or at least in a warm, safe place.

And once, when he was staying in our garage, another cat attacked him and cut open his leg. I chased off the cat, but Elvis was hurt. We kept him the garage again to recuperate.

But then last April was the worst. The veterinarian gave us some medication and wished us good luck. We fully expected Elvis wouldn’t make it through the spring.

Now, a year later, Elvis is still with us and doing much better. He plays with the three other cats we have. Two are feral cats. Skitty, a silver and grey cat named because she is so skittish around us, and Spooky, a black and brown kitten who showed up here on Halloween, have moved in.  We also have Squeaky, a black cat who we got in June 2019 after my wife’s mother passed away.

I think we relate with the ferals. They may be down on their luck with no family. They need help and love and we're just the ones to do that.

Elvis is a success story for us. He is a good, friendly cat who loves his pampered indoor life now and likes routines. At night, Holly and will take him and Squeaky out into the yard, each on leashes, so they can smell the smells and get a feel of the outside life. I know we look like the neighborhood crazy people walking cats around on leashes, but they enjoy it.

When I roll my APBA games in what Holly calls the “baseball room,” Elvis jumps onto a chair behind mine, curls up and then goes to sleep.

And today, Elvis achieved another title. He officially became an APBA Cat. While I rolled the June 18, 1972, replay game between San Diego and Pittsburgh, Elvis stepped onto the window sill by the APBA game desk and then jumped onto the playing field.

The game was delayed on account of cat. He got down eventually and I had to rearrange the players’ cards and make sure he didn’t knock the dice away.  Years ago when I was single, I had a cat who would jump onto the table and steal the dice. Her name was May and I lost her in January 2015. If you go my Goodreads page, you’ll see my profile photo is of her looking at an APBA card of Milt May.

So, Elvis is now deemed an APBA cat. I’m sure many of the APBA players know exactly what I’m talking about. I’ve seen picture of players posting their cat delays on the APBA Facebook page and they make me smile.

A year ago, we weren’t sure if Elvis would be with us much longer. Today, a year after that prognosis, Elvis is fine. He runs with the other cats, has a hearty appetite and jumps. And, he is now an APBA Cat as well.