We discovered that Severus loved the great outdoors when we took him with us to Montauk, just several months after adopting him from Elmsford Animal Shelter (now known as Pets Alive Westchester) in 2004. I was sitting on the front step of our rented house, reading, when a bolt of black lighting streaked past me. It took a few seconds to register that I’d left the front door ajar, and our cat was tearing down the street. I gave chase and caught him as he began to veer into the road, but Severus was forever hooked on open-air adventure.
Despite kitty’s best efforts, he didn’t escape again while we were on vacation. Back home, I let him explore our yard, explaining that he had to stay by my side. At first, it worked, and I boasted to Mike that Severus definitely understood me and that I had him yard-trained. I felt pretty cool–a peaceful warrior walking with her faithful animal companion!
But Severus was biding his time, looking for a weakness in the perimeter of hedges that separate our yard from our neighbors’. One September afternoon, he made his move. Subtle and crafty, he remained near me until we reached a spot where a thinning hedge offered a barely there, cat-sized passage. Severus sped through, and I yelled for help. By the time I got to a person-sized break in the hedge, he was across my neighbor’s lawn. Mike, a speedy runner, caught kitty this time–two backyards away and still going–and brought him back with a “told you so” shake of the head.
After that, I was afraid to take Severus outside. He protested loudly: crying “Mo…mo…mmmmoooo….” as he paced at the back door. Thankfully, he lost interest in the outdoors with the arrival of chilly air–and we got a break from the woeful “mo’s”. But as summer approached, our chatty cat was at it again, his “mo’s” even louder.
After consulting our vet, I decided to try a leash. As I wrestled kitty into a teeny tiny, paw-print patterned harness, I offered the compromise: “You get to go out, and I don’t have to worry about you running away or being carried off by a hawk.”
Bounding was out; boundaries were in. What’s a house cat to do? Though Severus wanted to explore at will, he learned that the only way out was via leash. He made the best of it, sniffing and chewing grass, staring sinisterly at birds, and curling up in cool leafy places–all while tethered to me. Every summer we’d follow this routine, which became so familiar that all I had to do was show Severus the leash and say “Outside!” and he’d dash to the door.
Inspired, my friend Lynn bought a leash for her cat Shelly, a former stray. This feisty feline hated her harness. “She’d resist and resist, but the urge to go outside was almost always stronger,” Lynn remembers. Men can walk with cats, too: Mike; our son, Harrison; my neighbor Ted; and my father-in-law all enjoyed some leash time with Severus.
Dzedo and Severus in Montauk
When Severus was diagnosed with kidney disease in April 2010, I vowed to give him the best summer ever. I took him out often, and he found new favorite places, like the creek that runs behind our yard. By then, he was so used to staying near me that I detached his leash. At first, Severus didn’t notice. But he caught on, and by the final days of summer was back to his favorite outdoor game: Making Mommy Run After Kitty Through Other People’s Yards. Whee!
We were grateful that Severus was still with us this spring. 
When it was warm enough to tempt him, I jingled his leash and called. Failing kidneys aside, Severus sped to the door. Outside, he padded gingerly to the creek. He took rest breaks on the way, looking sleek velvety black against the bright green grass. After just a bit of creek play, Severus curled around my legs, mewing–his “pick me up!” signal. He purred in my arms for a long time, content to view his kingdom from above.
A few days before Severus passed away, I took him out for an evening stroll. We had been in the yard earlier that day (no longer able to sprint, Severus was now 100% leash-free), and his furry face showed happy surprise when I called “Outside!” He walked low to the ground with his body long, absorbing the unfamiliar scents and sounds of his yard at night. He tired quickly, so I carried him to the creek where I stood, cradling and singing to him for a half-hour I’ll never forget. Before falling into a deep sleep with his head tucked into my neck, Severus looked up at me with that sweet, sleepy-lidded stare that every cat lover knows well.
We buried Severus in a cozy spot in his yard, the paw-print patterned leash beside him, just in case God wants to take him for a walk and is too tired to play chase.
Severus, unleashed
Sunflower Photo: Wendy Peragine