Humans have the advantage (I think it’s an advantage!) of words to express what they want and need. And yet, when I think of the first time I saw Nelson, I understood clearly that he was very hungry–simply by the way he meowed.

Of course I didn’t know his name or have any idea of how he found his way into my backyard, but there was no doubt that he needed to be fed and was asking me to feed him. Which I did. I happened to have a can of sardines in the house, and as I recall, I put the sardines in a dish outside and he ate it all.

He was a pretty cat with mostly white fur offset by patches of coon-cat gray. One friend thought he was a coon cat because of his ringed tail. Someone else called him a harlequin cat, but whatever label others put on him, I knew he was a Special Cat.

I called him Nelson because he seemed to have dignity and know what he was about. Everyone who met Nelson liked him. Not surprising, given his friendliness. Nelson was happy to see everyone, and never happier than when I had a house full of people. In addition to being a social creature (at least with humans) he was also very vocal. Nelson loved to hear himself talk. I often asked him, if he had to talk so much, could he make his voice more pleasing; but he just ignored me and jabbered on.

He took to following me around the neighborhood when i went for a walk. When I visited someone, he escorted me there, and waited patiently outside to walk me home. He was company when I worked in the garden; wherever I was, there was Nelson, watching me work.

I don’t know how old Nelson was when he came into my life, but I always figured he was very young and never thought of his leaving–certainly not after a mere ten years. I don’t know what caused his little belly to become swollen, or him to stop eating. As vocal as he was, he never told me. Nor did he ever complain. But he communicated plainly he wasn’t well.

I took him to the vet in his sleeping basket. The vet advised putting him to sleep. I stayed with him until the end, then took him home to bury him.

It will take some time for the emptiness he left behind to go away.

Cats, and other animals, may not have words to explain things, but what they do communicate, touches our hearts in a way no words ever can.