I’ve always considered myself a “dog” person, and never been one to pay much attention to cats. Not that I don’t like them, but sometime during my thirteenth year, while cuddling a newborn kitten against my cheek, my eyes grew itchy, swelled shut, and I could not breathe through my nose.
This one incident didn’t deter me from loving-up on furry felines, but a second, that included itchy eyes and ears, and a trail of welts from a claw puncture, forced me to accept the fact that I had an allergy. So, from this point forward, I simply ignored all cats, which at times could be a problem in itself.
I’ve read that most cats show affection on their own terms, and I agree. I’ve seen a feline run from a pursuer wishing to shower them with kisses and hugs, and instead, seek out with curiosity a person who want’s nothing to do with them and their dander, namely me. In fact, many a cat has hopped in my unwilling lap, only for me to hide my hands behind my back and call the owners to help remove them, while they stare at me in the eyes, their noses inches from mine.
With solid medical reason, I have spent decades avoiding cats at all costs, that is until I met Kitty the Lionhearted. She came into my life, feral, and somewhere between five and seven weeks old, after popping out of the bushes as I rounded my house, causing me to let out a loud scream. This tiny being stood in my path and did not run away like a typical feral would, or should when confronted by a hysterical giant, but simply stared at me and meowed a hello. I was agasp.
I got an idea to feed her, thinking she would trot off into the wild with a full stomach never to return again, and my problem would be solved. I would not have to call animal control.
I know, I know, don’t judge.
So, I went inside, opened a can of albacore tuna and made her a plate. She woofed it down so fast, I added water to it fearing she would choke.
However, Kitty didn’t eat and run, instead she followed me around the yard, charging from behind, running in and out of my legs. She adopted me. I was now her mother.
When I tried to go into my house, she attempted to dart in behind me, despite the fact my two Carin Terriers were yelling loudly at her from inside. Then heartbreakingly, I found out later from viewing my Nest doorbell cam history, she had mewed outside my door till she fell asleep on my porch.
The next day when I tried to leave in my car, she crawled underneath, to stop me from going without her. Even starting the engine would not end her protest, so I gave up and went back inside. Kitty then, caught again on camera, strolled back to my porch to take another nap.
Kitty the Lionhearted wanted a home, and she decided that I would be the one to provide her with one, despite the fact I had two rowdy terriers and a horrible allergy. Still, the little nudnick made me love her.
By day two, I knew she was special, and animal control was no longer an option, so I researched kittens and found out tuna wasn’t good for her. I promptly went to the store and bought her kitten chow. I put towels out for her to sleep on and a bowl of water. I hunkered down for the long haul because this beautiful creature had placed her fate in my hands, and I was not going to let her down.
I made my post public, and wrote about her and her antics. I posted pictures of her asleep, with her tiny head resting against my Carin Terrier statue, and soon a wonderful couple, friends of a friend, and parents of two other rescue cats, found me and agreed to give Kitty the thing I so wanted to give her, but could not, a home.
With her new mom and dad on the way, I went out to contain her. The look on Kitty’s face when she trustingly entered a dog kennel I set on the porch, and then realized I shut her in, nearly broke my heart. Did you know kitties can express betrayal? She looked me in the eye, climbed up the side of the cage, and howled.
I escaped inside, unable to watch, but soon realized how selfish I was being and went out again. Sitting beside her on the porch, I spoke to her as if she were human. She gave me unwavering eye contact, which I later researched was a cat’s way of showing affection. I told her about her new home and how she would be safe and cared for, and she calmed down and laid on the blanket I’d put in the cage.
Immediately after she left, while I knew she was going to a good home, I did not feel the relief I expected. I missed her and missed her bad. It took me two weeks to remove the blanket and clean out the cage where she had been briefly contained, so I could use it for my dogs if necessary. I’m amazed how such a small creature could make my heart grow three-fold in only two days, and then break it, by no fault of her own, even quicker.
Several weeks later, when at a garden center, I found a statue that looked just like Kitty the Lionhearted, and I set it on my porch where she slept so soundly for two nights, right next to my Carin Terrier statue. At last, I’d found a way to come to terms with my longing for that little girl every time I walked out the front door.
Kitty the Lionhearted has gone off to live the life she deserves, but I will never forget her.
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