Sunday September 27th, 2009

Other Kitty (and how she came to be with us)

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I’ve been putting off writing this post for the longest time.  I think because I don’t know how to put words to what turned out to be an extremely emotional and spiritual experience for me, and if I’m going to be really honest I’ve been putting it off because I know I won’t be able to write it without crying.  And then you all will think I’m crazy. The crazy cat lady.  Well sit back and have a drink, because this is going to rival one of David’s blog posts in length.

Let’s start at the beginning.  We live downtown and I first saw her one day in May when she ran down our driveway, past my office windows and across the street.  She caught my attention because she looked just like our cat Pegasus.  And come to think of it, our neighbor mentioned seeing a Pegasus look-alike skulking around the neighborhood.  A few days later I saw her run by again.  In that moment, a powerful, invisible force compelled me to fly out of my chair to the refrigerator, grab the lunch meat, and run out the front door.  I spotted her in the alley across the street.  She stopped thirty feet from me and we had a stare down.

I could see she was a stray, a scraggly bag of bones with large mattes in her fur.  She was very afraid.  Gently squatting down, I tossed bits of lunch meat to her, tossing each piece nearer to me until she was inching closer and closer.  She ate it ravenously.  My heart broke into a million pieces. I was suddenly devastated for this hungry, lonely creature.  I’ve always loved animals and have an intense desire to rescue them from suffering.  The sight of the Barnum & Bailey circus in town right now makes me want to stand outside and implore the children, “DON’T LET YOUR MOMMY TAKE YOU IN THERE!”  Oh how I hate the kind of existence this provides for animals, but don’t get me started on that.

But back to my story, I held my breath as she crept within hands reach to get the food.  Then she did the unthinkable. She rubbed her head against my hand as if to say thank you.  Something about that moment took my breath away….knowing how afraid she was, but how desperate she was for help.  I gave her more meat and sat in consternation deciding what to do.  I didn’t want her to get away for fear I’d never catch her again. So in my haste, I attempted to pick her up in the idea that I would carry her home.  Worst idea EVER!  (Note to self, don’t be a freaking amateur and pick up feral animals!).   She yowled and hissed and clawed me from head to toe to get away from me.  And then she ran.  She looked back at me in fear and she ran away as fast as her little legs would carry her.

I trudged home heartbroken, feeling like a complete failure.  (I know, I’m so dramatic).  But I couldn’t help feeling like I had earned her fragile trust and then proceeded to scare the crap out of her for life.  It seemed like I’d never get the chance to help her now because she’d never come near a human again!  So what did I do next?  I put my head in my hands and started sobbing.  I called David crying, and he probably thought I’d lost my marbles, crying about lunch meat and some stray cat that I had utterly betrayed and now everything was lost!  I couldn’t explain why I was so upset, because I didn’t understand it myself.  Something in me had just connected with a needy, hurting animal and I felt like I had blown it.  I didn’t know what else to do so I begged God to please provide another chance and please, please, PLEASE let me help her somehow!

That night I laid in bed and listened to the sound of the pouring rain drumming on the roof.  I wondered where she was.  How she was staying dry.  If she was hungry.  I couldn’t sleep.

The next day I put a food and water dish outside the house.  Later I walked by and spotted her out the window eating the food.  Each day she came back,  but if she ever saw me she took off running.  The thing that struck me most was how sad it was that she lived in such fear.  Constant fear of every loud noise, every neighborhood dog, every storm, every person.  I wanted to show her how to be happy and find her a home.  So David helped me construct an ingenious Looney Tunes trap.  With a stick, we propped open the swinging porch door that led outside.  We tied a long string to the stick that led through the porch and under the door into the house.  Then we put the food in the porch hoping that she would sneak in to eat it, and seeing her through the glass door I could yank the string which would pull the stick out of the back door and trap her.

After a couple days she worked up the courage to venture in to get the food.  I pulled the string, but she was so quick that she shot out the door before it closed.  The second time she came I yanked the string and the door slammed ON her as she bolted out.  Then I really felt like a jerk.  She didn’t come back for a few days after that.  Longingly I looked out the window hoping beyond hope to see her there.  But she didn’t come.  My heart sank lower each day.  And weighing heavily on my heart was the fact that we were moving out of our house.  The movers were coming the next morning, and my chance to help her would be forever gone.  There were only a few hours left in the day, and I was so sad and that I couldn’t take it anymore.   With resignation, I took out the stick, brought in the food and let Pegasus go out on the porch to bird watch. I dismally prayed, “Lord, please take care of that cat and watch over her.  Send her help.  I tried my best but now there’s nothing I can do.”

Feeling empty and depressed, I went back to editing in my office.   About 5 minutes later I heard meowing.  High pitched, sweet little meows filled with longing.  It didn’t sound like Pegasus, so I got out of my chair and walked to the porch.

And there she was.

Sitting on the other side of the screen, trying with all of her might to communicate her intentions of friendship with our 15lb fluffy black kitty.  Hurriedly, I set the trap up again.  This time I did a trail of cheese all the way inside.  I squatted down and waited, and soon enough she crept in to eat the cheese.  I yanked the string and the door slammed shut. My heart was pounding.  I was shaking from head to foot.  I had trapped her.  And on the last possible day.

The story of rehabilitating her is as long (or longer) than the story of trapping her.  It involved teaching her to be pet, trimming the painful mattes out of her fur, taking her to the humane society, but bawling my head off that she might be euthanized, calling david again crying, bringing her right back home.  She came with us to the new house and lived in the mudroom until we had her screened for disease.  We thought she was possibly a kitten since she’s so small, but after examination he estimated she was 6-7 years old.  I even paid to have her spayed in hopes it would make her more adoptable.  After her surgery the vet called to tell me that her uterus was full of cysts, and if she had stayed on the street she would have died of cancer. (Apparently the Wenzel’s are a cancer fighting machine!)  I tried to find her a home on Craig’s list, but that fell through.  David didn’t really think we should keep her.  I didn’t know what to do.  We weren’t looking to have another cat, but I knew she was a part of my story.  I knew what I had gone through to rescue her.

So in the meantime, she was the other kitty living in the mudroom.  Throughout the day I would go sit on the floor and talk to her.  She would purr and nervously try to sit on my lap.  Then one day she crawled all the way into my arms and buried her face in the crook of my arm. Hiding. Purring.  I realized this might be the first time in her life that she had ever experienced relationship.  The first time she ever had a feeling of safety.  The first time she knew what it meant to trust.  And I had given that to her.  The tears rolled down my face.  She laid in my arms, and I cried and cried.  I thought, “Isn’t that what we all want?  A hiding place.  Someone to trust.  A place where nothing bad can happen to us because we are completely safe from harm?”  I’m telling you!  This cat is some kind of metaphor for my life!!

Through David’s diagnosis with cancer, other kitty worked her way out of the mudroom and into our home.  Pegasus showed her how to be a normal cat.  Following his example she started running to the kitchen for treats, vying for affection, and in time she even learned how to play with cat toys (a huge milestone for her considering her life previously consisted of pure survival).  She’s come such a long way from the wild cat she once was.  She runs to the door to see me home, she approaches strangers, she lets me touch her paws and belly and kiss her (she used to swipe at me for this).  The only thing that gives away her identity as a street cat is that still hides under the furniture when it rains because she thinks she’s going to get wet.  We’re working on that.

I love Other Kitty because she’s a redemption story.  Because she was just a stray cat on the street who no one cared about and no one loved, but I saw her and I loved her.  Some might say she had no worth, but she had endless worth to me.  Even though she ran from me, I had compassion on her and I went out of my way to pursue her until I could bring her to safety.

And the reason I cry whenever I think about this story is because in my secret heart I understand that this is what Jesus did for me.   And it helps me understand how He might feel about me.  And I just don’t know what to do with that kind of love.

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Posted by Amy on September 27, 2009 at 08:48 PM | Permalink |
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