Mon Frère Vagabond, Homeless to House Cat

Calhoun Mane allowed an old feral cat into his home to get it out of the cold. Nearly a foot of snow covered the ground overnight, and temperatures had plummeted below zero. Mon Frère Vagabond was the perfect name for a critter incapable of truly caring for itself. Mon Frère, meaning ‘My Brother,’ and ‘vagabond’ refers to the cat’s tendency to wander without a home.

At first, the cat darted through the apartment and quickly exited. The heat inside the home felt enticing to the stealthy guest. Mon Frère came and went over a couple of days. He watched Calhoun with the intent to gouge out his eyes if he intruded on his space. Calhoun wondered whether his hatred of cats would determine their time spent trapped inside together. Mon Frère must have felt the uneasiness of a human who isolated himself to write stories. Being an opportune thinker, the cat lay across the keyboard to show his support.

No amount of shoving moved the cat’s plump body from positions it chose. Calhoun raised his voice, poked, and waved his hands wildly. Mon Frère simply stared at his human without a care in the world. Sharing a bed became routine, accepting that one of them snored loudly, the pair became a symphony of sounds throughout the nights. The cat purred as much as Calhoun breathed through a vibration of relaxed throat tissues. The noise frequently woke one or the other, but an instinctual alarm clock woke them both at 4:30 a.m. for breakfast.

Naturally, the cat had never used a litter box, so Calhoun opened the window in the dead of winter to train Mon Frère to go outside to poop and pee. As smart as a cat could be, the well-insulated animal braved the frigid weather to leave droppings in the snow, which froze and thawed in the spring for neighbors to discover.

Years went by, and Calhoun had learned to love Mon Frère. Everyone who visited the home knew the cat would greet them, lazily lying in their laps. He played with catnip, getting high from its potency. When things didn’t go his way, he bit and scratched as a form of communication. Calhoun expected his cat not to hurt his friends and family, but a cat will be a cat and ornery. He gave one neighbor stitches in the leg after she swatted him with aggression.

When Mon Frère Vagabond needed medical attention, Calhoun responded in accordance. Outside scuffles with other strays led to battle wounds. These injuries healed up, and Mon Frère grew older and settled down in the home more permanently. Somedays, out the window he flew, relieving himself quickly to avoid rain or extreme heat. Luckily, the roof soffits provided enough cover, but that meant Calhoun’s flowerbeds made for a perfect toilet.

The things humans do to protect animals are astounding choices. Calhoun knew his role in the relationship was to open cans of food when prompted, to give a handful of treats every once in a while, and to give endless strokes across the head and back, which secured the love Mon Frère Vagabond needed all along.

Mon Frère transformed from a homeless wanderer to a house cat, now mainly cleaning himself due to Calhoun's spoiling. His charm and personality remain, exemplifying the life of a spoiled, charismatic cat.