Zen is a cat. No, a kitten. A five month-old naughty (but adorable) kitten, who doesn’t know the meaning of his namesake.

By definition, “finding Zen simply means slowing down and finding peace. It’s about being centered at your core, mentally within your soul. It allows you to find power and peace within the body amidst transitions and nervousness.” Zen, the kitty, has reasons for his nervousness.

On a very cold night in March, Zen was found trying to climb into the wheel housing of a parked car. However, he was too weak, and so was taken in by a friend of mine. He was eight weeks-old, and didn’t weigh more than a few ounces. In fact, he was near dying. Because it was a Sunday and there was no vet available, I was asked to check on him. (I’m not a vet. It’s just that I’ve owned cats all my life, except for now. Weird, right?)

I didn’t think Zen would make it past two days, but didn’t want to frighten my friend, and so I just told her to feed, water and watch for poop. With lots of love and a special raw food diet from Delaware Valley Farm and Garden in Callicoon, Zen made it and is now five months-old, and a sheer terror. I recently had him in my home for four days while my friend vacationed.

Day one: Zen was depressed. Clearly, he missed his new owner. He skipped lunch, and only ate dinner. After dinner, he warmed to me, but just a little. He spent the night in the kitchen because I thought it best that he didn’t have the full run of the house, at least not right away. When he saw me the next morning, he was happy and fully revived. He mistook my leg for a tree and climbed it, claws and all. He also mistook my feet for mice (maybe it was the fluffy slippers) attacking them at every opportunity.

“We named him Zen in hopes that he would calm down,” said my friend over her cell while she lounged at the Jersey shore.

“It’s not working, but one can only hope,” I replied, and then hung up. For the rest of the day I resisted calling Zen Bacciagalupe, an Italian slang for goofball.

By day two, I opened the basement door. He loved it; spiders and all. And that’s when Zen became Ninja Zen. He nearly gave ‘The Huz’ (short for husband) and me a heart attack when, for hours, we couldn’t find him. I didn’t dare destroy my friend’s sun and surf by telling her that darling Zen had gone missing.

Using a flashlight ‘The Huz’ and I searched. Checked every nook and cranny. Called Zen’s name, which he doesn’t know. Gave him up for lost or escaped, but couldn’t figure out how. He later appeared for food and a poop. Ah ha! He comes for the food, and stays a short while for the litter box. And so we offered treats. Fish heads, butter, scrambled egg, and he grew. He was a big cat by the time our friend came home on the eve of day four. And when she did…

Zen was hiding as usual in the basement. I gave our friend the flashlight, “Try and find him,” I said. She searched for a good while, and nada. When she rose from down under, she was panicked. But I quickly pointed to a shadow that suddenly appeared on the cellar floor. Ninja Zen’s shadow. The naughty one. The one who climbs legs and attacks feet.

Zen is home now. ‘The Huz’ and I miss him. For Zen’s next visit, I plan to read him his namesake’s definition, wear shoes and heavy jeans, and let him have a go at the entire house. In the meantime, I’m recovering from Zen by means of Zen.

RAMONA JAN is the Founder and Director of Yarnslingers, a storytelling group that tells tales both fantastic and true. She is also the roving historian for Callicoon, NY and is often seen giving tours around town. You can email her at callicoonwalkingtours@gmail.com.