The Road Ahead

Have you ever noticed that we don’t always see what’s before us?  And while there are moments I’d very much like to know what’s in my future, there are times where I value my inability to do so.  

Today is one of those days.  If you’re read What You See (https://www.blogger.com/u/1/blog/post/edit/5043784668298294946/7306501480046648416?hl=en,) you might remember Spot.  

In January of 2004, I received a call from a friend from whom I’d adopted a tiny black kitten a few weeks before.  I’d been prepared to adopt both Sam – the tiny black kitten – and her black and white sister, but the sister had found another home.  Six weeks later – that January – change was needed.  The adult who’s adopted that sister – a parent of two young children – complained that this kitten was digging its nails into the children.  There was a reason – the children, about 4 and 6 years old – were treating the kitten as a toy, and throwing it at the wall.  Like a ball.  I was appalled.  (Yes, the rhyming is intentional).

I was actively concerned for this tiny kitten, and immediately agreed to bring her home to join her sister in a loving and caring situation.  The challenge:  this was out in the country.  While picking the kitten up wasn’t a problem, I was unsure of exactly when I’d be able to do so between taxi clients.

When I arrived to pick up the kitten – remember, this was January, roughly in the middle of nowhere – I saw a carrier on the porch.  It could have held a 30 pound dog.  Instead, it held a tiny black and white kitten who might have weighed three.  It was cold, the area was open and windy.  She’d been left with no blanket or towel, and nothing to shelter her tiny self from the cold and wind.  I quickly got the carrier into my warm car, and delayed my next taxi client long enough to get her home.

It took several days for that tiny kitten to emerge from behind the toilet where she’d hidden.  I couldn’t really blame her.  Life – at that point – had taught her that being seen, and found, meant pain.  But when she came out to interact, it was an incredible experience to watch her bloom.  She wrestled with her sister, though they never developed any real closeness.  She snuggled with her humans.  And while she never learned to like or trust other cats, her bond with humans was incredible.

Spot snuck out of the house in 2005 and had a litter of tiny kittens that fall (I still wish I’d kept one, or two, or all five …).  She was a terrific mom, protecting her kittens, letting them deal with the bigger cats in our home, and pushing them away when it came time for them to gain independence.  

The strangest thing, though, was to watch her with small children.  Toddlers, in particular.  Anyone with cats knows that they don’t mix well with toddlers.  In fact, you often can’t find them when a visiting toddler is in the house.  They know better.  While most three year olds don’t mean to harm an animal, the ability for many of these to handle an animal is limited at best.  Spot WAS that animal. Despite her rough beginnings, she’d let the smallest and least capable of children carry her around for hours.  She just hung there and let them.  Never scratched, never growled, never hit, or bit, or scratched.  It still baffles me.

Through the years, Spot never did learn to get along with other cats.  At best, she’d hiss or growl, or put out the occasional swat.  But she continued to love humans – her own, and any others that came to the door.  If you’ve been to my home and met a cat, there’s a high likelihood that it was Spot.

We said goodbye to Spot early this afternoon.  She went as she lived – with a belly full of treats, and plenty of love and snuggles.  After fighting her second bout of mammary cancer for several months, it was time for her to be done with pain.

We never know the road ahead with our pets – or with our friends or family.  But had I known, I still would have picked up that carrier from an open porch on a cold January day nearly seventeen years ago.

Spot’s lesson for all of us would be to enjoy what you have and where you are, regardless of the past.  I guess mine is similar: today is short, and we don’t know what tomorrow will bring. Go tell someone you love them.  Trust me, they need to know.