Let me start this by saying, I am not a cat person. I like dogs. (I did like the musical Cats, but that is another thing all together.) I don’t want to offend my cat-loving friends but I have always thought cats are not real pets. They do what they want and ignore you most of the time…dogs do not. Dogs sit in your lap and get excited when you come home after a 3-minute exit of the premises. Cats glance at you, allowing you into their presence. That is what I thought until this morning.
A couple of days after Easter, my daughter came over (yes, we broke quarantine…sue me!) and we heard a sound from a deep hollow in a tree in our yard. Last summer we discovered this hollow to be a snake’s nest so we approached it slowly. From the deep bowels emerged a tiny gray kitten begging for food. We took it out and found that there was another, smaller, stripped kitten in the hollow and a less fortunate littermate who had not survived. The mother obviously had abandoned them to the snakes, but these two had survived. What were we to do? I couldn’t just let these kittens fend for themselves at just a little over a week old (their eyes had just opened) We hoped that my elder granddaughter’s cat, who had just had kittens, would adopt them. My daughter took the kittens to her house and Kayce’s cat adopted them and the two kittens thrived. All was well. I had done my duty and saved these little creatures…I patted myself on the back. In reality, I had done nothing but agree that my daughter should take the kittens home. I promised I would visit them.
Sunday, that all changed as my daughter called and said it was time for the kittens to come “home!” To her this meant MY house. If you know my daughter, she can be very convincing so on Sunday afternoon, after braving Wal-Mart for litter box and food, I begrudgingly became a “cat mama.” I put them in our back sun-room along with all my younger grandchildren’s toys and a seldom used treadmill. I sat down and waited to make sure they knew how to use the litter box. That was my only intent. I was going to leave them alone to fend for themselves with an American Girl doll as company. But something happened…they began to play with my toes. They slept on my toes. They nibbled on my toes. Then they looked at me as only cats can. I told myself I was not going to fall for it. I was going to keep them until I found someone else who would take them…but then one reared-up on my leg and begged me to pick her up. As I did, I heard this noise from somewhere deep…a purr. I picked the other up and it curled in my hand contented. I was trapped.
We did the next horrible thing—we gave them names. The larger gray one—the one who climbed out of the hollow to ask for help—we named “Steel Magnolia” because of her will to survive. The much smaller little brother we named “Drew Brees”—who was small and never thought to amount to anything. So, there. They were named and began a life of luxury in our home.
Last night, during some thunder and lightning and while watching reruns of Chicago Fire, I heard a desperate cry…Magnolia was scared and wanted her “mommy.” I climbed over the barrier to get to her and held her for a moment, sat with her and then laid her in her bed. She was content and went to sleep. She needed me to console her and let her know it was going to be alright…that snake was not coming back and you are safe now, little gray kitty.
This morning, I sat drinking my coffee, feeling little claws on my toes, thinking about how my heart had softened once I got to know these kittens…not all cats…but these kittens. I began to think perhaps that is the way many of us are in our society…grouping all people together and deciding things about them on information that may or may not be true. It wasn’t an accident we found those kittens. They were desperate and we were nearby. They cried out the only way they knew how. What if we began to listen to the desperate cries of those around us and put ourselves in a place where we can help. What if we got to know individuals instead of a group. We will find is that no one fits into the boxes we created. No one. Not whites, not blacks not Asians, not Native Americans, nor Latinos. Each individual has hopes and fears. Each one has trusts issues that need to be dealt with. Each one truly wants to be loved and accepted. We are more alike than different. All the things I want in myself, I find are things others want as well. I learned this lesson many years ago on a trip to China. God spoke clearly to me that people are people. We discover that once people have names. Names clarify who people are. Names give us someone to intercede for, to care for, to laugh with, to live life with, to calm fears.
I truly believe God sent Magnolia and Brees to remind me to look individually at those around me. In reality, not everyone will be happy to know we now have cats and I get that. To be honest, I am still more comfortable with dogs, but I am willing to step out and see that not all cats are aloof and uncaring…and neither should I be, for perhaps my OWN aloofness and apathy was what I didn’t want to see when I looked into the eyes of my kittens. Thank you, God for the reminder.
