Thursday, April 30, 2009
Sincerity, Loyalty, Respect and Appreciation. They Really Go A Long Way.
| This is not political. In fact It is more a personal catharsis to help me than it is for you. And although it is not political, it contains a message that could help the political process. It is a story that involves something which our political process severely lacks……sincerity. ------------------------ It was a dark and cold February night and I was pulling a graveyard shift. In the lobby of the office I heard the high pitched, monotone wails of cat. They were consistent and loud, obnoxiously loud, and they carried an air of alarm or pain. I looked high and I looked low for the source. I looked under and behind every furnishing but as I continued to hear the cries, I saw nothing. The shrieks were still coming, only seconds apart and each one was as loud as the next. After a few more moments of playing hot and cold to discern where the cries were coming from, the frenzied feline crescendos seemed to be coming from the Coca-Cola vending machine. As I peered behind it, I was sure the deafening shrieks were coming from there but nothing could be seen. I could see that the back of the vending machine had an opening at the bottom. As I shimmied the tall apparatus away from the wall, the cries got even louder and more frenzied. I was able to move the machine far enough from the wall to get a look behind and under it. In the darkness, I saw a touch of white and two tiny eyes on either side of it. It was a kitten. As I tried to get my shoulder between the wall and the machine, I extended my arm into the open back and felt around for the crying kitty. Suddenly a piercing pain in my fingers caused me to whip my arm back and bounce my head and elbow into the wall behind me. The damn thing bit me and scratched. I got up, took a look at my hand now bearing four or five thin blood marked scratches and a tiny blood squirting puncture. That was enough. I shimmied the vending machine back into its original position and went about my business. If you’re gonna bite and scratch me, you can cry all you want, no matter who or what you are. A few band aids later and my hard feelings eased, the continued, nonstop high pitched, shouted mews pulled my heart strings. This was it. I was going to help this kitten out whether it liked it or not. After a long and bloody struggle that required many more bandages on my hands, fingers and wrists, I was holding this tiny, screaming kitten that weighed only ounces. It was amazing to discover that the source of such deafening cries came from something so small. The kitten struggled in my tight embrace, biting my fingers and squirming about in a wild frenzy. I quickly placed her in a little cubby hole, atop my desk, meant for filing papers. It was a tiny space, but she was even smaller and it was a contained location that could make the kitten feel safe and still be accessible to me. This kitten was jet black with a perfect inverted blaze of white on her face along with a white belly and paws. No more than three months old, the furry creature seemed to be a longhair ( it turned out to be a shorthair) and I could not help but wonder where she came from on such a frigid and windy winter night. While going about my business, I realized that things were quiet. The frantic feline was seemingly more content where she now was than where she was before. I found a suitably small container for providing the kitten with water and placed it at the opening of the cubby hole, proceeded to go about my work and kept wondering what I was going to do. I can’t just leave this kitten on the desk. Those who occupy it during the next shift may appreciate my leaving them a danish, or a cup of coffee or even flowers but a fearful little kitten that could slice, dice and chop up your limbs like a food processor may not be so appreciated. As the morning broke and my shift ended, I found a card board box. I knew the only thing I could do was take her home. Pets were not allowed to roam freely and establish residence in the lobby of this establishment. And so began an unexpected relationship, that unbeknownst to me, would comfort my days and nights and touch my heart forever more. I would come to find out that this kitten was a girl and after relieving herself in that box she came home in, the odiferous scent brought to mind a song made famous on the television sitcom called Friends. The song was called “Smelly Cat” and it was written and sung by the character known as Phoebe. On the show, that character was described as being abandoned after the loss of her mother and lived on the streets for a time. Much like this kitten. So her name was born……No not “Smelly Cat”……Phoebe it was. In the weeks after taking this abandoned bundle of fear home, she spent days in my bedroom closet. I did not put her there. I was giving her free range of the room but the closest was the hidden seclusion that made her feel safe, so she staked it out. Only when I was asleep would she come out and eat and drink. Her dish would remain full during the day, but by morning, the food in it, would be gone. After a few weeks, Phoebe slowly began to stop rushing to the closet whenever I entered the room. As more and more time went by, she would approach me, let me touch her and eventually hold her. But she never had much interest in going beyond the bedroom she called home. Eventually, instead of scurrying off to hide every time I entered “her” room, she started running to me rather than away from. She was actually beginning to look forward to my daily returns home and when I was home I was all hers. She would direct me to do all that she wanted. If she wanted play, I had to find string or feathers or the beam of a laser pointer for her to chase after. If she wanted a snack she would look up at me, give a soft mew and walk me in the direction of her dish. If sleep is what she wanted, Phoebe would plaster herself next to me or on my lap. She slowly began to explore the world outside “her” bedroom. She found it interesting and she also found it a nice place to visit but her heart was in the room she made her headquarters. For the longest time, I was her only friend. She didn’t take to anyone else. As the years past and a personal human companionship of mine developed into a committed relationship, Phoebe did grudgingly accept and grow to love my partner. It took a long time actually but she finally accepted him as she did me. She really never liked sharing “her” bed with him, but she made do. Phoebe always slept against me. Always. So when Nick came into the picture, she slept between us, right next to my head, where she would always sniff my eyes and lick my nose. Sometimes she would lean herself against me and push herself closer against me by using Nick’s back to push off of and kneed on. As annoying as it sometimes may have been, she always got her way. Phoebe provided a great deal of amusement at night. She would be laying against me or sitting on my lap in the living room and as soon as the television was shut off , she would jump down to the floor and walk with me into the bedroom. There were times when Pheebes wanted to go to bed and she would try to walk me into the bedroom by looking up at me and offering little half breathed meows while continuing in the direction of the bed. It was in bed that Pheebes was a little comedian. She liked being under the covers. And she loved to have her paws massaged and belly rubbed. She give a little “brrrr” sound whenever you touched the right spots. It was the same sound she offered anytime you called her name. I would say Phoebe and she would pop her head up and pronounce “brrrrrr”. Sleep would eventually befall us. With my hand, motionless, in place of wherever her massaging desires last were, she and I would be in cozy embrace during a restful slumber. As the new day awoke so did we. Each morning, Phoebe, greeted me by rubbing her face into mine. I would open my eyes to see a tiny pink nose right in my face. I would lift my hand and give her head a gentle rub and little pat. Then, as I would be making my way out of bed, she would bound to the end of the mattress and jump off. As soon as my feet touched the floor, she would be there, looking up at me with bright, adoring green eyes. Sometimes she would look at me and mew, but always she would do figure eights around my legs, then go in for a hard rub against one of my legs. From her head to her tail, she slowly walked while earnestly leaning into me. All while looking up at me, gauging me, lovingly. It was morning and time for breakfast. If that can of food wasn’t opened right away, Phoebe would make it impossible to get out of the bedroom and make my way to the kitchen to put up that pot of coffee. With each move of my legs, she would be there circling me, crisscrossing me. Time taught me it was her way or no way. As she ate, I would go on with the mundane morning rituals and prepare for my day. But no sooner did Phoebe finish up her breakfast, even though she already got what she wanted, she would be coming around the bend, looking for me. Phoebe didn’t just want her food, she wanted the magical companionship that our bond created. If I were to leave the house, Phoebe would jump to the window and watch my every move. If I were to drive to the store, Phoebe would watch me pull away from the house and be their waiting to see me return. To be gone for an entire day would distress Phoebe. After being apart for many hours. She would be extra affectionate and attentive to me upon my return. Go away for a weekend and Phoebe would get distraught. By the second morning of separation, I am told, She would be back in the closet, hiding from other voices she may have heard in the house. Perhaps that was to be expected of a cat, whom as a kitten, was left to survive on her own on the streets of Neptune New Jersey in the depth of Winter’s bitter cold. Perhaps after being given a chance in the world and provided with security, this little kitten became the big cat that appreciated the rescuer who she once feared so much that she shredded his hands up. Be that the case or not, I was everything to Phoebe. I was her world and little did I realize , how important a part of my world she was to me. Last night, Phoebe died. Last night, I felt alone and empty. The warmth of her silky body leaning on me was not there. Several times I awoke and found myself checking to see if anything was wrong and preventing Phoebe from getting in “her” bed. I would wake up and realize that I did not yet give Phoebe her mandatory massage. Each time I stirred and thought these things, I would lay my head back down realizing that Phoebe is no more. This morning I woke up. There was no furry chin tickling my face or tiny pink nose sniffing around my eyes. It just seemed all so wrong. The morning was not right without her. The still not accepted or fully realized impact of her loss left me confused and the reminder of her loss was a sharp, painful hurt. My loyal little buddy was not here. And as I got out of bed, the fact that I didn’t have to bother with opening that can of cat food even before I had my coffee bothered me more than words can describe. I have lived with cats and dogs and other animals all my life. I have professionally bred and shown purebred cats. The relationship with a pet is nothing new to me and the loss of one is not new either. Yet despite the familiarity of the inevitable, I am devastated by the loss of a cat that years ago, as a helpless kitten, was tossed out into the cold and written off. I live a life that has afforded me the chance to discuss worldly issues as if I were all high and mighty. I have even walked the halls of state legislatures with those who actually are high and mighty and I have told senators, governors and even potential presidents what they should do in a campaign for high office and mighty power. Yet a black and white cat that has no bearing on our economic troubles, spooky pandemics or matters of war and peace, has touched me, no, make that, hit me, harder than any of these things. It just goes to show you that you don’t really need to be a political genius or world leader to have a positive impact on others. You don’t always need to get into the intricacies and minutia of complex problems to bring comfort to the lives of others. Sometimes the simple existence of loyalty, respect and appreciation for others can be the quickest way to harmony and balance. Simple, unadulterated sincerity can sometimes make all the difference in the world. I know that now. A dedicated and loyal four legged friend with nothing but love in her heart has shown me that. So if any of you have a cat, dog or any other kind of pet, when you get home, look them in the eye when they happily come to greet you. Look them in the eye, imagine the day when they are not there to greet you and then lift them up, hug them and kiss them and relish the blessings in your life that they are. And if you don’t have one, go to a shelter and adopt one. They will change your life as much as you will change theirs. |
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