When my beloved cat Miki a beautiful Siamese-mix
died last April at the age of seventeen I was devastated
beyond description.
She was the first animal I had ever loved and we shared
a very deep bond. I thought I would never recover from her loss
and wandered around in a fog for two weeks.
Then one day I found myself driving to the local pound.
I went immediately to the kittens room a beautiful glass-enclosed,
circular room full of 15 or more babies playing and fighting together.
I picked up several but was too scared to even think
about taking one home.
On my way out I stopped in a small windowless room which
contained the older cats each isolated in its own cage which
were stacked one next to the other in three long horizontal rows.
The bottom row (which sat on the floor) contained cats whose
price had been cut in half. Someone explained this meant they had
reached their 3-day time limit at the pound and if not adopted out
at half-price would be euthanized at the end of the day.
A tiny black kitten face meowed at me from a cage on the bottom row.
His identity card had a big red rubber-stamped DEFORMED across it.
The card also stated he was 8 weeks old but he was so tiny I could hold
him in the palm of my hand so I guessed he was no more than
5 or 6 weeks old.
I figured that If I ever got another cat it would be another female.
This little boy was a black & white domestic and as far as I could tell,
his “deformity” was a couple of extra digits on his front paws
which looked rather huge and comical on such a small body.
I put him back in his cage and left but something drove
me back to adopt him. He was truly joyous when I brought him home
and I swear that little guy knew he had been rescued.
But after sharing my life and home for 17 years with a mature female
cat whose wavelength I was definitely on it was tough having
a baby kitten and Bo turned into a very devilish boy after
a few months earning the name “El Diablo”.
He became very destructive costing me hundreds of dollars and
one night I sat crying in frustration wondering if I had done the right thing.
I talked to Miki asking her to talk to him; please help him to calm down.
The transformation in Bo was almost immediate.
That night as he lay beside me on the bed calmly purring I felt a thud
at the end of the bed (where Mick always lay) and I felt her presence
strongly for the first time since she had died.
I had longed for some sign from her or a visit in a dream or something
but had never been able to “connect” with her before this.
I truly believe she intervened with this new baby for I was at the point of
no return with him. He has since grown to be a very loving guy and
he’s now known as Bo the Love-Sponge.
Miki left me one year ago on Thursday this week (April 26th) and Bo
has shared my life for 11 months now.
I will always treasure Mick’s memory and vow to treasure
Bo in memory of her.
She was an extraordinary soul and I am honored she shared
her life with me and thankful for her very special love.
Eileen
| Eileen |