Jojo came to us on a night with one of those big full moons. Maybe it was called blood, grapefruit, or wolf, depending, but I can’t remember which kind of moon it was. I was home alone. Randy was gone that night, one of very few nights that didn’t involve the two of us calling at a square dance or at a gig in some holler. He’d gone to a midnight Moon Festival on top of a mountain in Viper. Worn out from my day at work, I was frankly a little bit excited about the prospects of a night alone, cosy on a couch reading a book, or just doing nothing. So I did just that–which is to say, I fell asleep.
While I was snoring away, Randy and the Gathered were on top of a cold mountain, sitting around a big fire connecting to Mother Earth. To be clear, Randy has no identifiable Native blood in his family bloodline, but his spiritual inclinations resonate with Native beliefs regarding the respect for earth and its inhabitants, and he is welcomed into ceremonies. Native American descendants from the area sometimes pop up for a gathering. When they do, as they did tonight, they notify him. On the top of the mountain, they were being prompted by the Elder to look out for a spirit animal that might come and visit them around this fire.
I am awakened by a scratching sound on my back porch. Given that the porch looks over Rockhouse Creek, there are several critters that like to visit. Possum! Raccoons! Rats! Whatever it is, it’s making enough ruckus to keep me from falling back asleep. Annoyed, I rise from the couch, open my back door, turn on the porch light, and cast a cautious look around. There are the usual boxes with more boxes inside used as kindling for the fire pit along with miscellaneous mystery junk. The noises were coming from inside one of these boxes. Something was trying to climb out of the box and repeatedly failing, each time letting out high-pitched screeches: “Meeeeeeeeee, meeeeeeeeeee!”
Nothing screeches like a youngling of any species, including human. But what kind of baby attention seeker am I dealing with here? What if it’s rabid, or has large pointy teeth? Grabbing hold of a nearby pair of leather gloves, I tug them on, then carefully approach the boxes holding more boxes.
“Meeeeeeeeeeee!” the box complained.
I look inside, and find myself staring into a pair of big bluish eyeballs floating in the dark. I turn on my phone flashlight and finally see him: Jojo. An inky–black kitten soaked to the bone.
I whisk him up, and take him in the house.
So Jojo, short for Rocky Banjo, found us that night. While other folks on top of Viper mountain were being visited by spiritual wolves, bears, bobcats and moose, Randy saw nothing around that fire, even came home a bit deflated that no visitation had been experienced. Instead, I got the real deal at my house. A forever kitten.
*****
Given the circumstances, we had to keep him. More than likely, Jojo’s litter was thrown in the creek in a plastic bag to drown. This method is often practiced around here when unwanted baby animals are born. Jojo is a survivor. Perhaps the spirits called him to swim and climb to my house because he knew Randy was his spirit human. Either way, Jojo was part of our family now.
I am a cat person through and through but I’ve always dreamt of a cat that can be trained to behave like a dog. My 19 year old cat Lobo was a dog-like lap cat, but I wanted one that traveled with me on my hikes. We had a hike coming up. Jojo was going to get trained.
Every Memorial Day, Randy goes to two different places: he visits the family graveyard buried deep in the mountains of Leslie County; and he visits the grave of ‘Uncle’ Ed Thomas in Knott County. It was for the ‘Ed’ hike that I wanted to take Jojo. To be clear, Ed is not a blood relative, though I am not sure that the distinction matters much. In life, he was a traveling dulcimer merchant known as the father of dulcimer-making in Knott County. This year, Uncle Ed is in for a treat: a first-time-ever visit by a cat to pay his respects.
For our hikes in general, I pack a lunch of rice balls, boiled eggs, and something to drink. This is the first time I am packing a little container of cat food. We have never taken Jojo out in the wild or put him in the tiny body harness I configured for him, but he’s a good-natured cat with trusting nature and doesn’t seem to mind it. Given that his favorite pastime is to lay belly up on my lap when I’m sitting on the toilet, I can say confidently that nothing seems to frighten him much.
This is good, because Randy’s hikes are never conventional. In more ways than one, he’s perfectly content to stray off the beaten path. This seems to be a local quirk: you can’t get a straight answer from anyone in his circle regarding practical details about this outing to Uncle Ed’s grave, such as “How far is it to the cemetery?” or “How long will it take to get there?” Instead, you’ll get windy anecdotes going on about “how Lou got really mad and nearly gave up the first time he and Randy went up together,” or, “oh yeah, remember how this one time, Frank nearly passed out climbing up the trail?” I conclude that it is a long steep hike to get to the cemetery, and we will need to pack water and snacks so we won’t pass out on the way.
With Jojo on my lap, we drive to the “trailhead” which is actually a road that dead-ends in someone’s front yard. The house is newish with freshly cut lawn and a long driveway occupied by two cars. The lawn is strewn with kid stuff like slides and toys, plus the grill has been pulled out to celebrate their Memorial Day. We turn slightly to the right and park the car.
“Umm, Randy,” I say. “This is someone’s yard?”
“Yep!”
“Umm, is this okay? We are not gonna get shot, are we?”
That is not me being paranoid but acknowledging reality.
“Dunno!” he replies.
And he grins.
My concerns are obviously not his, so we set out, Jojo, Randy and me: an unconventional hiking family.
*****
The start of this hike is through an overgrown, weeds up to my hip, what seems to be like an old logging trail. The terrain is rocky and worn out with water trailing down like a miniature stream. So far Jojo is clasped in my arms because the weeds are too high; if he decided to run into them, we would lose him instantly. From the state of things, no one uses nor cares about this trail; how Randy and his people found this way to get to Uncle Ed’s gravesite is a mystery. It’s a steep uphill climb until we arrive at an open clearing with wildflowers. It feels safe to set Jojo down, but I keep him on his long harness. He immediately begins scampering through the flowers, bounding after Randy, tugging me forward. Jojo is squirming as I am not fast enough and he slips through the leash and bolts past Randy.
Oh no, I’ve lost him!
But no. Turning his head, Jojo comes running back, checks on Randy, then runs ahead of him again. He is clearly aware of us as a group and is ready for this excursion. He runs through tall weeds like a tiny panther then pops out to find us. His eyes are alert and hyper-aware.
Hurrah! I’ve got a hiking cat!
The route widens into an old logging trail with beautiful rock formations. Between the trees, we catch glimpses of open sky and dramatic vistas. There are so many small but dense mountains in eastern Kentucky that it is hard to know what exactly we are looking at but nevertheless the view is phenomenal. I spot a small rain cloud in the distance, but it is too far away to be a worry. We keep trekking up and up until we pop out onto an old mining trail. Lots of gravel and few trees. Jojo is going strong but with the heat of the gravel and scorching sun I decide to pick him up and carry him. He’s still a kitten, a little bitty thing. He likes to perch on my arm facing forward, balancing like a panther on a tree limb as I keep walking. He’s happy to be carried; it’s clear that he’s tired. As we pass by a big chunk of wild daisies on the side of the road, I spot scat: deer pellets, bear poop, and something else.
“Randy!” I point at the mystery pile. “What is this poop here!? Bobcats?”
I am worried because bobcats might find kittens tasty.
“Dunno!” He repeats. He is not worried about bobcats either.
An hour later, we reach the cemetery. There are many small cemeteries located in the mountain hollers in this region. This one has to be one of the highest in terms of its altitude. There are a mere handful of other gravestones, making it easy to locate Uncle Ed Thomas’ grave. His granite headstone bears his name and a cut image of a mountain dulcimer. Randy’s ritual, established before he met me, is to plant a live flower there. Today it is a petunia. We were nearly finished putting it in place, cleaning up the area, and taking the requisite photos of Jojo on his first visit to Uncle Ed’s grave when I hear an absolute ruckus of roaring engines and people hollering and whooping, then spot a group of rowdy teens on 4-wheelers whiz by a path I did not realize was there.
I look at Randy and ask, “Does this mean that this cemetery can be reached by a 4-wheeler and not hiked?”
“Dunno!”
It does explain the plastic flowers and beer cans by the graves.
Having paid our respects and left a friendly plant for Ed, we start the hike back to the car. About half way down, I spot a big boulder that is perfect for lunch. Jojo rides on my shoulder as I scramble up the rock, grabbing onto vines to help me climb to the top. The view ends up being worth the risk. The three of us sit on the warm stone, silently savoring our small successes and the delight of being outside on a glorious day. We are ready for our meals–Jojo for his cat food, and Randy and me for our savory rice balls. It’s my habit to pack the seaweed separately to keep it from getting soggy around the rice. The first bite into the crispy seaweed, followed by the zesty salty sourness of the pickled plum in the center and the sweetness of the egg…these things make the day perfect. Jojo seems pleased by his dish of kibble too. After we are done with our meal and I’ve packed everything away, Randy pulls out his mountain dulcimer and plays a few simple, happy tunes while Jojo glues himself to Randy’s side and curls up for a nap.
This cat is going nowhere, we are home.
As we resume our descent, the black cloud I’d seen earlier has finally caught up with us. We are back to the tall weeds when a sudden torrential downpour hits us. Picking up Jojo, I sprint down a trail rapidly turning into a muddy stream. By the time we make it to the car, we are all three drenched. There are now a few more cars in the driveway of the house with guests for the Memorial Day BBQ. Nobody seems to care that we parked there. Randy’s “dunno!” was right.
As we start our way home Jojo is in a tight ball fast asleep. He’s had a big adventure today. I thank the spirit animal world for this tiny bold creature as I once again dry his wet fur and watch his small belly rise and fall as he breathes contentment into our lives.
