Bideawee Tails from a Volunteer
The Cat Who Changed My Life by Florence Scarinci
Sometimes the smallest event can cause the biggest change in a person's life. A college student registers for a class because it fits her schedule and the course so fascinates her that she changes her major and career plans. A young man decides to go study in the library instead of going to a party and while there meets the girl of his dreams. Such a life-changing event happened to me. It was caused by a stray cat.
It was a beautiful June day, a perfect day for graduation. My husband, John, dressed in his best suit with a crisp white shirt and an expensive designer tie, was climbing the steps to the teachers' entrance at the high school where he taught English. He could hear the strains of the high school band practicing "Pomp and Circumstance." Milling outside, the graduating senior girls were all giggles as they tried to put their mortar boards atop their fancy hairdos. The senior boys were grimacing as they struggled with their ties and collars.
Suddenly a tiny, dirty, gray kitten emerged from under the steps and rubbed herself against his beige suit, leaving a smudge on his pants. John has a soft spot in his heart for cats (he says I am responsible for his love for cats -- but that is a story for another day). He picked her up, getting another smudge on his jacket and ashes on his white shirt. She melted into his arms, softly purring. She was skinny and, in a word, ugly.
Her head was too small for her body. The markings on her face gave her a pinched expression. She had been in some kind of accident or fight because the skin was ripped from her leg and was flapping on top of her foot. Her ears were black with mites. She smelled like the dumpster she had obviously been unsuccessfully foraging in for food.
But John could not leave her there. He could not return this waif to what he knew would be a certain, protracted, painful death from either an infection in her leg or starvation. Besides, the smudge on his pants and the dirt on his jacket and shirt made him unfit to participate in graduation. In a split second, he decided that graduation day was a perfect day for a teacher to play hooky. He took her to his car, got in, and drove home.
I was less than thrilled to see him bring this dirty, smelly, ailing, feral cat into the house. I did not need the demands that a sickly cat would add to my already overscheduled day. Nor did I want for animal companionship. At that time I had two dogs -- a puppy mill Labrador Retriever named Rocky and a well-bred Golden Retriever named Honey -- and a domestic shorthair cat, Cicero, whom John had also picked up on the street. Cicero turned out to be the most affectionate, beautiful cat I have ever known. John was hoping this kitten would follow suit. I had my doubts.
But there was something about this forlorn feline that made me want to pick her up and nurture her.
"Okay," I said, "we'll take her to the vet at Bideawee to see if she can be saved. Then maybe we can find a good home for her. We have to call her something in the meantime. She needs a name."
John, the consummate English teacher, replied, "Let's call her Maggie. You know, like the title of the book by Stephen Crane, Maggie, A Girl of the Streets."
So Maggie she became, but no longer on the streets.
The skilled veterinarians at Bideawee examined her leg and cleansed her of parasites, of which she had just about everything but fleas (the fleas figuring that at two pounds there wasn't much of her to feed on) and sent her home with a bag full of medications and a list of instructions on how to administer them.
Although there were several cat-loving teachers in John's school who were willing to adopt Maggie, John was not willing to part with her. You see, John is one of those responsible pet owners who believes that once you adopt an animal, you have made a commitment to that animal for life. My family also fell in love with her.
At first we kept her separate from Cicero, until we could determine if she was carrying any contagious diseases and also because we wanted to introduce her slowly to the rest of the animal members of the family.
My daughter, Danielle, insisted on keeping her in her room. Maggie was stuck like Velcro to Danielle. When my daughter sat down, there was Maggie on her lap. When she went to bed, Maggie curled up next to her. When Danielle turned in her sleep, Maggie quickly repositioned herself to be right next to her. It was hard to believe that this cat had never had human contact or any kind of socialization.
When Maggie was feeling better, she began to clean herself and it turned out that she was not gray at all, but tortoise shell. It was not until she felt well enough to groom herself that her true colors were revealed. What true colors she had: Brown and orange and flecks of black and gray. As she began to put on weight, she went from scrawny to svelte and sleek. She walked like a ballerina and gracefully jumped from the floor to anyone's lap.
Frankly, I fell in love with her, too. But I figured agreeing to keep Maggie presented me with a good bargaining chip. I have always wanted to raise a service dog or a guide dog. From childhood I was taught that each person should give back to society based upon his or her gifts. I am not talented in music or art; however, I love dogs and am experienced at training them. I always thought that raising a service dog would be the way that I could contribute. But as I said, John feels strongly about adopting for life and had argued, as many people do, that he could not give up a puppy he had raised. I saw my chance to negotiate.
I proposed, "We'll keep Maggie, if I can raise a service dog."
I knew I had him. He was not letting go of this cat that had smudged his shirt and made a place in his heart.
And so it was that I picked up the phone and called Canine Companions for Independence. By the end of the week, I was an approved puppy raiser (they loved the menagerie in my home), with Penni in the back seat of my car. For 14 months, I dutifully trained and socialized Penni as I was instructed to do. On a bleak November day I delivered Penni to hearing dog school where, in three months, she promptly flunked out. As her puppy raiser, I was allowed to adopt her.
Penni has opened up a whole new world for me. She introduced me to dog performance events: agility, competitive obedience, rally obedience. She was a "natural" for pet therapy, giving me a purpose and a satisfaction I had never imagined. In training classes and competitive events I have made many new friends who shared my passion for dogs. I have had the opportunity to visit different states as I traveled to participate in dog shows and competitions. I became immersed in things canine, became well versed in canine nutrition, wrote a chapter in a book on the subject, and began an avocation as a reviewer for a dog magazine. I even had my 15 seconds of fame on television with her. My life is so much richer for having Penni.
But I would not have Penni had John not picked up the stray cat Maggie and had the vets at Bideawee not put her on the road to health.
Perhaps your future is waiting in the Kitty Cat Habitat or the dog run at Bideawee.
If these stories have inspired you; if you have time in your week and room in your heart to give some love to a love starved cat, you might consider joining the cat socializers. Please call the volunteer office at the Bideawee shelter nearest you:
Manhattan 212 532-4986
Westhampton 631 288-0591
The Lonely Cat's Best Friends
Therapy Benefits: What's In It for Me?
