Florida update #2: A kitty named Ladybug [UPDATE: She’s ours!]

We heard a soft jingle and turned toward the sound. Out of nowhere, a little gray tabby came sauntering over to us in all her striped glory. “That’s Ladybug,” said our neighbor. “Her owners don’t let her inside.”

The cat sat down and looked at us expectantly.

Anyone here got treats?

We didn’t — not this time. But soon, we would find ourselves stuffing a bag of cat treats into our pockets before going out for every walk — and keeping a fresh can of cat food at the ready so if we did encounter this little sweetheart around the neighborhood, we could get home, plate it up, and get back to Ladybug before she moved on.

The neighbor informed us that “Baby Bug” (as I affectionately call her) was new to the neighborhood, about four weeks. She was always outside. Daytime, nighttime, rain or shine. Supposedly, her owners had had a baby or something, and so Ladybug was no longer allowed inside the house.

Left to her own devices, she now roamed the streets, living by her own rules and relying on the kindness of her neighbors for food, water, and shelter.

Below: I surprise Ladybug with some treats. Cuteness overload in 3, 2, 1 …

I can hardly believe it’s only been two weeks since we met her.

It feels like much longer. Yes, we light up every time we hear that adorably scratchy-yet-squeaky meow. But we worry about her. She’s not particularly concerned about staying out of the street, for example. To Ladybug, it’s as good a place to lay down and relax as any.

We also have hawks around here. And snakes — I saw my first big snake here in Florida last week, a black slithering nightmare in the next-door neighbor’s hedge — and I’d hate to see little Ladybug wrangle with one of those.

And then there are nights like tonight, when I am up late listening to crickets and the occasional roar of a speeding car and my heart just aches for this poor, sweet creature who has no home, no bed to sleep in, and no one she can truly count on except for herself alone.

Mind you, my wife and I have not sat by idly.

Last week, we went down the street and talked with Ladybug’s owner, even going so far as to ask if we could give her a foster home. But the man who answered the door told us that “she’s fine” and “a free spirit” who doesn’t like to stay inside.

Judging by the two huge barking dogs and other ruckus we heard behind him, I don’t blame little Ladybug for not wanting to stay inside that home.

So now we’ve settled into a pattern. Like many of our neighbors, we leave dishes of food and water outside. We leave our garage door open during the day in case Ladybug needs a place to escape the heat. We look for her on every walk — morning, afternoon, and evening — in the hopes of hearing that friendly meow and feeding that soft, furry belly.

We always keep an ear out for the melodic ring of her tags, and whenever we see her, we take time out from whatever we are doing to sit down and show her love.

Oh, how Ladybug loves to be pet, from the top of her head to the black stripe down her back, all the way to the base of her tail. You can tell she loves it by the way she stretches the front of her body down to the ground and raises her rump to meet our fingers, tail held high and wagging with happy abandon.

We enjoy it almost as much as she does. And when she’s had enough food and water and love, she gets up and saunters away, following her instincts, the wind, and whatever whims drive her at the moment.

Related reading: Florida update #1: So far, so friendly

The other evening, after one of Ladybug’s departures, I went inside and watched her from my window. She’d made her way next door and was sitting like a lioness atop a decorative half-wall next to the neighbor’s garage.

She looked so regal sitting there. So calm. So small and fragile, yet so perfectly content in her world. She cleaned herself and lay down, her ears and head tracking the sounds of birds, cars, and other points of interest as the daylight drained from the sky, blue to pink to gray.

As I watched her, I found myself wondering what could possibly be going on in that little furry head of hers.

Did she miss having a home? Had she ever actually had one? Did she relish her independence? If, given the choice, would she ever choose the safety and security of a human owner’s home over the uncontested freedom to come and go and do as she pleased?

It occurred to me that, in a way, maybe Ladybug is living her best life.

She does what she wants, never staying in one place for long. She has many friends up and down our street, people of all ages who love to see and pet her.

She plays with the many little lizards that live here. To Ladybug, everything that moves is a potential toy.

She takes life one moment at a time. She makes the most of what each day gives her and she never takes anything for granted.

Maybe that’s something we all could learn from her.

I don’t know what will become of Ladybug. Word on the street is that one of the neighbors may have called Animal Control. Because of that and the inherent dangers of living outside, we know that each time we see Ladybug may be the last.

I try not to feel sad.

I don’t think she is, so I try not to be, either.

For now, we’ll keep up our routine — the boisterous greetings, the feedings, the playtime and impromptu visits — all of us understanding that today is all we have and tomorrow is never guaranteed.

September 1 update: She’s ours!
Ladybug has a home! We reached out once again to Ladybug’s (now former) owners and received their blessing to adopt her. She is now safe and comfortable (so, SO comfy!) in her new home where she gets all the love she can handle. Plus, she still gets to see “her people” from the neighborhood. We’ve invited our neighbors to come and see her anytime. Already, she’s received several visits which she enjoys just as much as her humans do.

Ladybug’s “best life” starts now, and we couldn’t be happier!

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