The saints have their timing down

Since returning on March 8 from a brief trip to Oregon, I’ve been marooned on the Island of Misfit Toys – AKA the Island of Unadoptable Cats – trying to keep my sanity while missing family hugs desperately. And make no mistake – I consider myself LUCKY: my health is fine, I have nice surroundings for waiting out the pandemic, and a plethora of cat-characters to occupy me. In fact, the timing of the shut-down is “good” in the sense that at least one of my fur-kids is changing in some ways that warrant attention.

Lena, my oldest at around 16, has been on prednisone so long that she is losing her fur. But her inflammatory bowel disease has advanced to where she cannot live (literally) without it. She’s a frail mess – a shadow of herself at only 5.5 pounds, with bowel movements so odiferous that they could be used to bring a foreign army to its knees, and her ears are bare enough now that she almost looks like a bat. But she is plucky and loving and dear, and I’m grateful for this extended time with her, as I expect she doesn’t have a lot of it left. So she is a frequent occupier of my lap as I catch up on sitcoms that I never saw when they were new. (Ask me anything about Pam and Jim’s romance on “The Office.”)

Because of the shelter-in-place order, the rescue “business” has been relatively quiet. But I got a call recently that proved to be another example of fortuitous timing.

A woman called who had been feeding a neighbor’s cat ever since the kitty was abandoned by its family two months ago. They gave the kitty space in an outdoor shed and let her spend nights there after giving her dinner. She is a beauty: jet-black like my Lena, and friendly and sweet. It crushed me to think someone could leave her behind, and imagined her family to be heartless and mean.

So we did a “remote rescue” by posting her photos on Next Door and asking for a foster or forever home for her. Because she did not have a name, I called her Bella. Possibly due to the lockdown, and people have time on their hands, I got quick responses from three different people who wanted to adopt her! I chose the first one to reach out (after emailing to make sure she was able to give her a good home) and made a plan to go to where Bella was being fed, with a carrier to take her away with me.

I arrived in mask and gloves and greeted the kind people who had been feeding her (also in masks and gloves). As we chatted and I prepped the carrier, there was a knock on their gate. It was Bella’s family, who had come looking for her after two months! When I heard this, I charged out to give them a piece of my mind, and possibly refuse to hand her over…

… and standing with the father of the family were two small children, maybe 5 and 8, looking so eager and excited. So I took a deep breath, swallowed my righteous indignation,  and quietly questioned the man as to why they left her behind. I told him I was there to take her to her new home, which stunned him; he said it had always been their intention to come back for her once they were settled in, and that he had come looking for her twice before. I was torn – not wanting to put her back in an unsafe situation, but seeing the sweet faces of those kids who had nothing to do with their parents’ bad decision-making.

And then their neighbor woman walked out the gate holding Bella, and it was all over. The boy smiled hugely, and the little girl gasped and held out her arms. The neighbor deposited Bella there, and I watched her knead her paws with joy, as the little girl kissed her head. So I let go of my anger. I think my point had been made and the bottom line was that this was where Bella wanted to be.

In hindsight, the timing had been nothing short of astonishing. After two months, her family arrived on the very moment when I was there to take Bella away. An hour later on either side would have made for huge problems – and tears on the part of those sweet kids.

I realized that as much as I thought I was the boss of that situation, it was out of my hands completely. Thanks, Saint Francis, for stepping in and facilitating the happy ending.