Two weeks ago I blogged that Robbie, newly trapped, was in “critical” mode. He was growling, angry, resistant to my affectionate, food-in-spoon advances. Then I had what turned out to be a brilliant idea: I would take some drops of Rescue Remedy in my hands, rub them together,\u00a0and apply the warmed floral essence to a piece of fleece tied to the end of a backscratcher. And then I’d reach into the carrier Robbie was hiding in, and rub him with it.<\/p>\n
I started hesitantly, reaching for his crusty head and ears. He shrunk away. I tried again. And this time, he leaned into the fleece-covered backscratcher, tentatively at first, and then whole-heartedly, rolling his head to the side in ecstasy. As I continued for a long time, my arm starting to ache, he emerged from the carrier to lie on the floor of the dog crate, writhing around with joy. I was speechless at the display – no cat has e-v-e-r gone from growling to showing his belly\u00a0so quickly.<\/p>\n
I slowly put the backscratcher down\u00a0and substituted my hand for the rubbing, which he loved even more. I took my time, exploring the awfulness of his skin, which was so crusty it was like he was wearing a hat, and getting a close look at his chin, so enflamed. (The vet says it’s either an allergic reaction to fleas, or a physical response to starvation.) When I stopped, he looked slightly dismayed, and retreated back into his carrier. But I was thrilled. I knew there was no turning back: the switch had flipped, and he understood the promise of love. I would not have to return him to the cruelty of the ravine, and he was going to make someone a sweet pet.<\/p>\n
The next day, the universe handed me one of those moments of synchronicity, as if it had been eavesdropping on me. As I fed Margaret and Dorian in the parking lot in the morning, an elderly man came over to see what I was doing. He told me he lived in Central Valley, and had a ranch just outside a town. He said there were something like 15 cats there – some of them his adoptions, others abandoned there. He does his best to get all of them fed, fixed, and healthy.<\/p>\n
Some of them were very tame, he said; others were very wild. But he works on them, offering treats and food from his hands, sitting with them until they lose their fear. “And I’ll tell ya what,” he drawled. “That moment when a wild cat first lets you pet ’em is like a religious experience.”<\/p>\n
I felt a rush of emotion. “Yes,” I smiled. “The best kind of religion.” Here I was this morning, worshipping at the altar of human-animal connection.<\/p>\n
Robbie video last day<\/a><\/p>\n Such moments\u00a0put us in touch with our truest and best selves; they also cut so deeply into our souls that they aren’t easily recovered from. I’ve been blubbering all day, after taking Robbie to his new home – a beautiful, 12-acre spread south of town that will soon become a farm animal sanctuary. (http:\/\/sweetfarm.org) Once he gets acclimated and comfortable\u00a0he\u00a0will be indoor-outdoor, which gives me pause. Now that he’s in my heart, it’s guaranteed I’ll worry about him.<\/p>\n St. Francis, huge gratitude to you for the guidance and the touch that brought a struggling kitty back to life. Keep him close and tell him I love him even though I had to let him go.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Two weeks ago I blogged that Robbie, newly trapped, was in “critical” mode. He was growling, angry, resistant to my affectionate, food-in-spoon advances. Then I had what turned out to be a brilliant idea: I would take some drops of … Continue reading