A nameless, beautiful, feminine calico sweetheart of a kitten was dropped off at the Newington Animal Shelter the day she turned nine weeks old. Those were the rules, the attendant of the shelter had said, they don’t accept animals younger than nine weeks. So, the moment the clock struck two months and seven days the humans shoved the kitten in a crate and carted her off to the pound. There just wasn’t enough room in the house for another kitten, the human donors proclaimed. The attendant promptly scooped up the orphan and plopped her in a cage.
Right above her, a skinny, frightened tabby named Freddy hunkered down, his hopes for adoption diminishing with each new day. Now into his third month at the pound, Freddy was lonely and worn out. But things were about to change.
As Freddy tried to sleep, a little white puffed paw slapped against his cage. It was the calico saying hello. Freddy couldn’t see her face, but he liked that she was making an attempt to meet him. Deep in his heart, however, he knew that she would be gone in a matter of days. The kittens never last long. They have the adorable factor in their favor, something that had long faded from Freddy's sunken face.
“He looks scared,” the man said. “Poor thing. No one adopts the older ones.”
The woman by his side looked into Freddy’s eyes. “He looks sweet.”
“He is,” the attendant responded. “He’s the nicest cat you’d ever want to meet.”
“Hmm,” the woman moaned softly and followed the man around the room of cages.
Ten minutes later, the woman and man circled the room again, pausing once more at Freddy’s cage. The kitten below him had been sleeping, and Freddy secretly, selfishly hoped she would remain that way. If she showed herself to the couple they would surely take her. Just walk away, he thought, before she wakes up. Yet, throughout the day, the couple continued to survey the room of cats and kittens, pausing each time before Freddy's cage.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” a voice over the loud speaker announced. “The Newington Animal Shelter will be closing in five minutes.”
“Have we really been here for four hours?” the man asked the woman.
“Apparently. Wayne?” she paused. “What do you think about adopting him?" She pointed to Freddy. "The lady said he was a really nice cat.”
“I know, Eileen, but adult cats have history. I don’t know.”
Just then, in the cage below the orange tabby, a little white bit of a thing with orange and black spots arched her back in a massive kitten stretch. Sauntering to the front of her cage, she reached a fluffy, scruffy paw up to Freddy’s door and gave it a swat. Freddy reached down with his skinny orange striped paw and reciprocated. Wayne and Eileen looked at each other, and without saying a word, nodded in agreement.
“Miss?” Wayne beckoned. “We’d like to take her.” He pointed to the calico.
Freddy tucked his paw beneath his chest, knowing his friend had charmed the humans and that she would be leaving him. The short reprieve of sadness that had come only as a result of the calico’s presence had vanished.
“And him,” Eileen said, pointing to Freddy.
“They look like they’re friends,” Wayne added. “We’d like to take them home together."
The attendant removed Freddy from his cage and handed him to Eileen. Then the calico, so tiny she seemed weightless, was placed in the palm of Wayne’s hand. But she wasn’t about to stay there. In a flash, she leapt from Wayne’s hand and onto the table. With a graceful leap, she practically flew onto the top of a cabinet where she sniffed and explored her new surroundings.
“She looks like trouble,” Eileen said.
“But I bet she’s no trouble at all,” Wayne replied with a smile. “By the way,” addressing the attendant. “What are their names?”
“She doesn’t have one. This fella’s Freddy, after Freddy Krueger, you know the evil dream demon from that movie, A Nightmare on Elm Street.”
“That doesn’t sound like him,” Wayne said. “He’s too sweet to be a demon. He’s more like someone’s buddy.”
So that is the story of how Trouble and Buddy were adopted by Wayne and Eileen. They all lived happily together for more than twelve years. Trubs and Buds remained best friends, hanging out together, tussling, cleaning each other and sleeping side-by-side. Buddy grew plump and content, while Trouble grew strong, yet gentle. Life for the two cats and their parents had been joyous and playful, harmonious and peaceful for all the time they were together. For animals, however, time can be an enemy, robbing the little creatures of their lives when they are just at the peak of living.
For Trouble, her time came on June 16, 2009. Cancer had attacked her intestine, not allowing food or drink to enter. The kind doctor did everything he could, but in the end, the cancer won. Trouble died at the tender age of twelve.
Today, Buddy, Wayne and Eileen all mourn her passing and miss her dearly. She remains in their hearts and her sweet chirp and compassionate purr will always be a song left lingering in the air around them.
We love you, Trouble. Thank you for being our friend and for allowing us to love you the way you loved us.
Buddy and Trouble
2 comments:
What a beautiful story! I have two cats myself who were in the literal sense, strays. Diamond, my 11 year-old and Topaz, my 2 year old. They are very much a part of the family and our lives.
It was very nice to meet both you and your mother at the Big E yesterday. I hope to make your workshop in October.
Stay fabulous!
Kimberley
Hi Kimberly!
It was great to meet you, too. Thanks for visiting my blog and reading my story about Trouble and Buddy.
I hope to see you in October. Great profile photo, by the way!
Eileen
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