What Ever Happened to the Cayucos Cemetery Cat?

For many years, there was a cat who lived at the Cayucos Cemetery. A gray and white cat. The two County maintenance workers, who had taken him in as a stray, called him Tom.

On weekends, his little face in the window of the closed maintenance building followed passersby on the bike path. Those who wandered over to say ‘hi’ were treated to Tom’s complete repertoire: cheek-rubs against the window bars, front leg stretches, kneading, and silent meows that couldn’t be heard through the glass.

When the building was open during the week, Tom strutted out to greet the mail carrier, or moms with strollers, or walkers, provided they didn’t have a dog—although the maintenance guys said he was quite fond of three different dogs and their owners. I was lucky enough to be one of them (owners, not dogs).

My golden retriever, Mia, had never been around cats. So, the first time Tom trotted right up to her with no hesitation, I held my breath as well as her leash. Tom rubbed up against her chest, then walked underneath her and began weaving his way around her legs, clearly trying to show his affection. Mia stood stock-still and looked at me for advice.

“Kitty!” was all I said. But Mia could tell from my tone of voice that ‘Kitty’ was a positive thing. That was all it took.

Tom meets Mia at the Cayucos Cemetery

From that day on, Mia looked for “Kitty” whenever we walked by the cemetery. At my whistle, Tom would come running out of the nearby creek and Mia would run toward him—like a scene that should be set in slow motion with violins playing.

I began to time my walks to coincide with Tom’s schedule. Jason and Michael, the good-hearted aforementioned County workers, would put him inside each night for safe-keeping against the coyotes that prowl these hillsides. I routinely raced down to the cemetery just in time to pet Tom before his 4:30 curfew.

Jason often shared a Tom Story or two with me. “Sometimes he walks up into the cemetery during graveside services—wandering among the people while they’re standing there. Pretty soon, they’re all smiling and petting him, instead of feeling sad.”

So, what ever became of Tom? Suddenly, he was gone. His cat bed in the windowsill was replaced with a potted plant. There was no longer a gray and white greeter for walkers or the mail carrier. There was no longer a goodwill ambassador at funeral services. Some folks in Cayucos began to ask, “What happened to the cat at the cemetery?”

Despair not. Our feline hero did not meet a horrific fate--quite the contrary. As I write, he’s lolling on a padded chair on our deck in the sun. For you see, the story took a turn one afternoon when Jason told me his boss was allergic to Tom, and asked if I like to adopt him (Tom, not Jason’s boss). Jason knew that our dog and Tom were friends. And he clearly saw how much I enjoyed that super-affectionate cat who acted more like a dog.

I’ve never owned a cat. I’ve never even lived with a cat. I’ve forever been a true-blue dog person. People are either dog people or cat people, right? You can’t be both. That would be like…like mixing water and oil…or matter and anti-matter.

But before my reasoning mind made me say, “Thanks, but no,” my excited heart made me blurt, “Yes! But I need to check with my husband.” And thus began the next chapter of Tom’s life, and ours. We are now bilingual—speaking both cat and dog.

Given that my last name is Black, this next part will make more sense…

When Lesa at Unleashed Pet Grooming returned my call to verify Tom’s initial bath, she called him “Tom Black the Tom Cat”. I laughed, and then realized that we already had a very fine Tom Black in the family—my first husband. Within a day, we changed Tom’s name (the cat’s, not my first husband’s) to Jack. Now he’s officially known as Jack Black the Cemetery Cat.

Here I am! In my new home, see?

Jack no longer spends his time consoling mourners. His job is to keep us in stitches with his antics around the house: careening up and down the stairs, playing like a kitten with his fuzzy toys, greeting every visitor with cheek-rubbing attention, bopping the dog. I have become a head-over-heels cat lover—thanks to this sweet gray and white kitty, who once peered out the window at the Cayucos Cemetery, and who now watches out our French doors for our return to home—his new home.