LOST AND FOUND – A CAT TALE
HOMELESS
An outcast—neglected, homeless and starving— she sat waiting, eyes alert to the feeder where perched the possibility of breakfast on a cold March day.
She would soon need to seek shelter in the shadows where no warmth penetrated her ragged flea infested fur. But for now, the tempting sweetness of the sparrow held her as still as a porcelain statue on a garden wall.
Did she know she was being watched? Could she feel love was about to find its way to her aching, rejected heart?
As she sat in the shadow of wings circling overhead like angels, she heard the sparrows chirping, but all she felt was her stomach turning with hunger, and bloody cheeks from scratching fleas on her face. To her ears, birdsong was her siren call to breakfast.
Nothing else.
UNCLEAN
Or did she know that the heart of the one who fed the birds melted with sorrow, watching her hunker beneath the feeder in the cold damp earth of early spring?
“Unclean, Unclean, Unclean” chanted an inner voice as I set down that first dish of kibble six feet away from her spot in the muddy remnants of the winter’s last snow.
I drew back in shock at the site of this unwilling host of untold numbers of parasites I knew charity was an act of service that would grant me sleep that night.
Telling myself it would only be one small show of compassion towards another created being in a world of starving, lonely, homeless, and sick creatures, human as well as animal I was already listing cat supplies in my head.
I could hear Elvis crooning in my heart “Fools rush in where angels fear to tread…” as I returned to enjoy my warm breakfast and cozy home. And to plot a course of hospitality for one sickly and starving tabby with hazel eyes.
‘A ROOM SOMEWHERE’
A bowl of food continued to meet the waiting cat until one day I asked her to surrender in solitary confinement to a small box with a handle on top.
I took her to meet a woman in white with a kind voice and two long needles. This was followed by a two-week ritual of planting toxins into her fur and kibble lest the aliens riding on her flesh find their way into my home.
She often gave me the ‘stink eye.’ A fool in love I am, yes. A fool for parasites, not so much!
Comfortably hanging out on the deck, ‘The Cat’ eyed me warily when I held open the screen door. Inching through it, she kept one eye on me and the other on the door.
Would it slam behind her? No. It stayed open and she spent the day wandering in and out.
With the caution of a soul used to rejection and abuse, ‘The Cat’ cautiously moved herself in, claiming comfy spots to rest and to observe this new world.
Inner music began again, this time from ‘My Fair Lady.’
“All I want is a room somewhere
Far away from the cold night air
With one enormous chair
Oh, wouldn’t it be loverly?”
A FAMILY OF HER OWN
No longer just The Cat, ‘Eliza’ was now a matter of record – on vaccination sheets, rabies certification, and in the hearts of all who came to know her.
Eliza soon became a cat of the world, a traveling companion on cross-country trips, by plane and auto.
Tucked beneath seats without complaint, or commentary, she traveled with class, though she often practiced her ‘stink eye’ when the chance arose.
Her early years as a rejected feline in a cold world of human indifference made Eliza a survivor. A survivor with a funky autoimmune system and a drive to eat whenever food was available.
She never released her foraging habits from youth. Her autoimmune disease gave the veterinary clinic many challenges with inflamed toes and bouts of GI distress. But her gentle heart generated love towards every person she touched with her cat-magic presence.
When Eliza emerged from the cold night air she became family. Holding tales of survival, mystery, joy and sorrow, Eliza face-planted on the back of ‘enormous’ soft chairs, her soft ears twitching as she smiled in her dreams.
It was a ‘loverly’ 8 years. Thank you, Eliza.
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