Our cat Tangyuan perfectly embodies the spirit of “forgive me for my unbridled love for freedom.” From a clever and lively kitten to a wanderer obsessed with the great outdoors, his journey has been a rollercoaster of adventure, worry, and unconditional love.
The Early Days: A Playful Kitten with a Love for Balls
As a kitten, Tangyuan was incredibly smart and energetic. His favorite activity was chasing balls, and he’d be perfectly content after two hours of play each day. But at five months old, something changed. He grew restless at home, no longer enthusiastic about toys, and spent his days staring longingly at dogs downstairs from the balcony, clearly longing for the outdoors. Worse, he began attacking family members—my parents and I all bore scratches and bites from his pent-up energy.
The Old House Honeymoon: A Taste of Freedom
To give him space, we moved him to our old house with a yard. That winter, my mom would carry him outside in a cat carrier, where he’d sunbathe, nap, and meow for meals. He played happily with his fuzzy ball and mouse toys, and his aggression vanished. He’d rub against us, purring and acting cute, and for a while, it seemed like we’d found harmony.
But as he grew comfortable, his curiosity overwhelmed him. He learned to unlock doors and pry open windows. One sunny morning, he escaped. My parents chased him in vain, only for him to saunter back at dusk as if nothing had happened. Despite being confined, he kept escaping, even staying out all night. He fought with stray cats, returning with bald patches from wounds, yet after vet visits and meals, he’d dash out again.
The Storm and the Long Absence
My mom wept, fearing he’d gotten lost, been caught in the storm, or been taken. Just when we’d lost hope, a friend spotted a cat resembling Tangyuan on a riverbank rock while fishing. My dad rushed to the park, waded into the river with a basin, and miraculously, Tangyuan—thin and disoriented—swam back to shore at the sight of him.
After a month of vet care and recovery, he regained his strength, but we vowed to keep him indoors. We bought a cat leash for walks, but he resisted, still craving freedom.
The Final Escape and Return
Sixteen days ago, he escaped again, disappearing without a trace. On the seventh day, the “plump cat, prosperous home” door curtain in our bathroom fell onto my mom. “Is Tangyuan’s spirit visiting?” I wondered, tears in our eyes.
This morning, he returned—thin, but meowing softly against my mom’s legs. “Even if cats have nine lives,” she sighed, “this can’t go on.” No matter how he protests, he’s staying indoors from now on.
Tangyuan’s adventures have taught us the power of freedom and the pain of loss. He may never fully accept domestication, but his ability to find his way home, time and again, reminds us that love, like a cat’s wanderlust, is boundless.
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