The first time P.C. the cat showed up at Eugene Weekly’s office, the editorial staff thought she would flee as soon as someone opened the door to the outside and made eye contact with her. That is what most cats would do, anyway.
But not P.C. She wandered up to the door as if the building is where she intended to be all along. The office dogs were out for a few days, so out of mutual curiosity, a few of us on the editorial staff let the cat in. She had a collar and a name — P.C. We didn’t know what it stood for at the time, calling her Politically Correct cat (since we at first didn’t know the gender either).
The cat sashayed around our office, wide-eyed and purring at the complete and total attention the editorial staff gave her. She explored every corner of the office without fear, hopping up onto tables, stepping on papers. P.C. further paraded her blasé attitude by trotting into the open dog kennel and sniffing around. She could smell the overwhelming dog scent — she just didn’t care.
After inviting P.C. into the office a few times and letting her explore, I called her owner, Linda Johnson, who lives nearby. Johnson was a little surprised when she got my voicemail, thinking that we called to complain about her cat. She was happy to hear P.C. is a friend at the office.
“She’s had a really charmed life,” Johnson says.
P.C.’s name was a mystery no longer. Johnson says it started out meaning “personal cat” then “Princess Cordelia”— a name from the book Anne of Green Gables. She jokes that more than anything P.C. is “public cat” now, because of how friendly the gray and black tabby-mix is.
Apparently, EW isn’t the only place P.C. visits — we’re just one stop on her daily route.
“She’s everywhere. She climbs roofs. The daycare lets her in,” Johnson says.
P.C., Johnson says, was born on a farm and had been around dogs and people all her life. She has always been an outgoing and curious cat.
Johnson often goes on walks with her two chihuahuas, and P.C. tags along, sometimes walking up steps to the front door of local businesses. Johnson figures they are among P.C.’s usual stops.
More than three months later, P.C. still comes to the back door of EW several days a week, pawing to get in, no regard for social distancing and stay-at-home orders.
At this point, she knows she will receive pets, treats or both. P.C. may have become a little over-entitled to what we have to offer; she now resorts to hissing and running away when she is denied entry or is put outside before she believes her time is up.
This is the fault of no one but the cat people on the editorial staff who are enamored with a friendly, outgoing neighborhood cat.