He is waiting, front and center. Right in the middle of the doorway. No one will miss him, he is fit as a fiddle, ready to go home.
Maybe next week.
Or, maybe the next week his family will come. They have been caring for him for as long as he can remember, and he heard them say they will come back. Perhaps they were just busy.
By the end of the month, he is wiser than ever. Maybe it is because he is blocking the door, nobody can take him out. Isn’t it obvious? He give it a two lap celebration in his cage. Now his family will come. There is no doubt about it.
No doubt about it, right?
“His family came one Sunday, with his eyes severely injured” The vet told us, “Conjunctivitis that preceded Upper Respiratory Infection. They did not care for the eye infection properly and it rotted. There was no other option for me but to remove the damaged eye”
I know how that story ends.
“And his family never returns”
The vet shook her head, with a frown on her face. “If money was the issue, come talk to us. All vets in this town would have given struggling pet parents leniency. You know how many of them pay just a small amount in installments, but we don’t mind. The most important is that they keep their pets and care for them”
Same old story.
“If you have space for one, just one, in your home, I am sure he will be grateful. He has been staying in his cage for months and the endless waiting start to pang the painful reality for him.
“Where is he?”, asked Sheilla.
“In the corner”, my vet answered, “He will tilt his head to you when you call his name, his new name. His former parents did not disclose his name; they said they haven’t decide, but I called him Ali”
A vet tech went into the keeping room and opened a cage in the corner, having a bit of trouble reaching out to its resident cat, curling in the furthest corner, but then still brought us a cream kitten with only one eye.
He sat there in silence. Looking at me, looking at Sheilla, looking at the vet. We are not the ones he expected.
Sheilla took him in her arms, and cuddled him. No response.
He has a long way to go.
He stays in the corner, for the first week at home. Probably seeing all the other cats made him dizzy. He only came out for drinks and food. He was a bit miffed because we always put his plate near the others.
Then he poked his head out when he saw us play with the others. He got the idea that we deliberately do so and refrain his urges.
Really? curiosity kills the cat. We include him in every activity, as if he has been with us for a long time. We call him our baby, we cuddle him and we cradle him, we play with him, we show him nooks and crannies of our home, almost all filled with cats, and remind him there is more to the world than just the corner.
First he plays with kittens, A few weeks passed and he plays with kittens his size.
All of a sudden, he grows. He is as big as other adults now, so we took him for neutering and get into a bit of a saga.
Here is Ali, close to one year later. Hit our legs once in a while, hit a chair’s leg a little bit more often. He’d spin the little ones when he crashes right onto them as he plays, he’d crash our foot if he bolts around.
By the end of the year, Ali is wiser than ever. It’s not him blocking the door, it’s staying still in the corner, as painful as it looks.
Isn’t it obvious? Then pounce when the chance come.
Hit it, and then run. Run for it until he is cat again. Run for it and ride that one chance all the way to the end.