Alex the Alley Cat

This post is my entry into the BlogPaws Blog Carnival Contest sponsored by BISSEL Homecare, Inc. BISSEL will generously donate a grant to three eligible Petfinder shelters in support of the millions of adoptions Petfinder.com makes possible. If my post is chosen I would like my winnings to go to Greenhill Humane Society SPCA of Eugene, Oregon.

A few years ago my husband and I reached a point where we felt our household was complete. Our first six months of marriage had been especially eventful, having fostered, fixed and adopted out a mother cat and her seven kittens. At the time we already had two affectionate black rescue cats named Flicker and Snowy. For the first time since we had walked down the road of animal ownership, we finally felt a good sense of balance in our lives. Knowing the commitment of owning more animals firsthand and still living in a small apartment, we sensibly decided against any more pets.

That’s when we first heard about our little Allie cat. She was about four months old when the news reached us from a family acquaintance, and though they were nice people, they had no interest in caring for a stray kitten. For weeks, Alex had been living without food, scrounging for meals in the family’s vegan compost pile. At night her only shelter was a broken down car in the garage. I knew that young cats have crucial needs, including extra protein and avid socialization. It was a bad situation that I knew I could fix, and so I agreed to take Alex in until we could find her a home. It was then that I met her for the first time.

Allie was the sweetest cat anybody could have wanted. Her coloring was beautiful and her personality was immediately endearing. I couldn’t figure out how somebody could neglect such a cute and friendly face. The most social cat I’d ever met, she warmed up to us immediately as she spent her time recovering from her spay surgery and adapting to our household. Even our vet commented on her sunny disposition, quite the accomplishment for a traditionally crotchety calico.

Soon we learned to play fetch with her using a little mouse toy.  Excitedly, she would dart after it and bring it back to us whether we commanded it or not.  Then, she’d rub up against us, purring up a storm as we each took turns rubbing her belly and praising her for the good kitty that she was. She loved spending time with us, licking our legs as she walked by and then jumping up to fall asleep in our arms.

We knew then that there was no going back, and Alex has been a source of joy and inspiration in our lives ever since. More than anything, my experiences with her have reinforced the fact that every animal is special in a way that is unique to them alone. I never would have guessed she would become such an asset to our lives in ways new and different from her also-sweet sisters. Now we share a home with three adorable cats, and though we have reached our limit, there are still animals who need and deserve homes every bit as much as our kitties.

Each year shelters and rescue organizations around the country make it possible for pets in transition to receive the care they need, while banding together to solve the problem of pet overpopulation. Supporting these groups allows them to continue doing crucial work for animals everywhere, visit a local shelter or Petfinder today, and remember to spay or neuter your pet.

Country Living and Animal Compassion

On any given day, growing up on a farm wasn’t all that different from being raised in the city. I had all of the expected hallmarks of a young girl; overly concerned parents, schoolwork that I tried to avoid, and the endless list of chores that came with living on a twenty five acre farm. Although the scenery was different, I was living in a community where even the daily handing of hay was as humdrum as breathing, and for all the beauty around me I was just another kid.

Walking on dampened trails, collecting wild fruits and daydreams, I tried to guess which paw and claw prints belonged to my shy friends in the nearby forest. In the open fields I would happen upon wispy red foxes who would sometimes spare me a grin before bounding away from their game of catch-the-mouse. I always wished I’d been invited. I delighted at the chance to mimic songbird calls with a little yellow whistle, but my favorite birds were the pheasants who searched for their breakfast among the morning dew.

Despite my nearness to nature, I found out early on that caring for animals isn’t always easy. Farm chores are tedious, and over the years I made my way through all sorts of troublesome animal-related tasks. I learned how to brave the pointed pecking of a mother hen as I collected her eggs. When we rented out pasture to a local equine owner I was delighted at the idea of the farm’s first horse, but I couldn’t ride an animal I didn’t own, and the glamor of brushing a dusty coat doesn’t last forever. When we got a companion for the elderly quarterhorse the fun wore off in record time. Nobody knows how to escape a fence, and stay loose, like a goat.

Even though I dealt with animals daily, I didn’t notice how special they could be until I got my very first cat, a tortiseshell called Shadow. In her prime she would bring me presents of partially devoured prey, paint my bed sheets in the artful patterns with her muddy paws, and clean her toes on the top of my blankets. She was exuberant in both her work and her play, fiercely independent and deeply affectionate. I spent many nights curled up alone with a fantasy novel only to end up with a paperback full of tooth-holes. No book was too big to keep that cat at bay. Finally she would nestle close and rest, her purrs filling me with warmth and worth.

But as time passed my life took on other shapes, and I began to lose my connection to animals. When I moved away from the country I no longer saw my wild friends on weekly walks or daily drives. Instead, even as I tried to ignore it, I came to know the reality that cats and dogs face out in the city. While I often saw the farm as a harmonious place for humans and animals, city life proved far harsher. More often than not the cats were skinny and scruffy, abandoned at best and abused at worst.

Eventually my experiences in the city served as a reminder of the life that I’d left behind at the farm.  Where I had once failed to appreciate the menial chores and daily interactions, I came to understand what I was missing. Chickens have never been my favorite creatures, but even they have personalities unique to their beings.  My little brother even had a favorite hen that would come to him for attention and petting.  The old horse who I had tirelessly tried to brush was one of the gentlest souls I’d ever met. The goat inspired a lot of chasing, but for as many times as she got out of her fence she would never stray far. She treasured Sonny the horse, and would bleat mournfully whenever he was taken from her presence.

In their own way, they were just as inspiring as their wild cousins. They felt, and cared just as deeply as we did. And just like seeing the season’s deer bedded down in the soft grass from the glow of our farmhouse, at times they were nothing less than magical. I could never forget the oppressive situations that those city cats ended up facing every day, and the more I learn about the ordeals that animals face the more inspired I am to create a change that betters their future. Animals add so much depth and value to our own lives. They are not only deserving of our help, they are deserving of our love.

Sunrise

A new week has found me camping on the Oregon coast. We’re far enough from the water that the stunted shrubs and sharp grasses on the beach have made way for towering trees and green earth. Piano chords play hauntingly in my headphones, weaving a strange tapestry with my surroundings and the morning bird cries. The camp only shows a hint of stirring, echoing a touch of sun on the treetops. The crisp air takes me back to last night’s campfire and the cat that found its way into our site after sunset.

It was a sleek black thing, physically indistinguishable from my three black friends at home, though the differences soon became apparent. This cat hadn’t known enough human kindness to put its trust in a stranger, it sank back into the blackness of night as swiftly as it had arrived.

It’s amazing to me that even a hundred miles from home I come across constant reminders of who I am and what I’m planning to do with my life.  For me, the welfare of cats is more than just an ideal; its a calling.

I joined the humane society this week, checking the box for as many positions as I thought I could possibly handle. They told us that even with hundreds of volunteers, it was still a rare thing for more than one shift to be fully booked each week. I suspect that even volunteering the equivalent of a full time job I would still fear I’d not done enough. In reality I can only give a fraction of that time, and other helps I can bring myself to offer are sub-par, at best.

I have recognized areas that a capable individual could make a noteworthy impact, but none fit my strengths. I believe my stubborn spirit could take me down the long hard roads to becoming a grant writer or a veterinary professional, and indeed I have already taken steps toward doing both. The more I learn though, the more I can see that neither of these positions fit my passion.

What I want more than anything is for the world to see animals as I do. I want animals to be treated with the same respect and dignity that we afford one another. I want an end to the ways of life that have turned them into nothing more than objects to be used and abused in a materialistic world where they exist only for us. Humanity has a chance to do great things to protect and preserve animals, but for all of our efforts, we have done more so much more harm than good.  I hope to do my part to change this.

For me, cats have become a catalyst. I can no longer see a feral cowering under a car, or a stray dead beside the road without thinking of how humans have placed them there, and how we are their only hopes of being saved. In every homeless cat, I see every feline friend I have ever known and remember the extraordinary depth and value they have brought to my life. Even with their various quirks and idiosynchrasies, I have never met a cat I couldn’t admire and love.

I’d like to use my strengths to help cats, and in turn, help myself grow as a person. I want to find a way to help more and better than I could ever hope. I want to make a real difference. I don’t want to ever forget, a mile away or a hundred.

I hope my writing can take me there.