Heartstrings Tugged

Destiny Fullfilled

CHAPTER FOUR

I Think She Is a Stray

We are acclimating.

She, to the strange wonders of indoor life; me, to the full-time responsibility of making sure my new baby girl never lacks a single thing she needs, or even vaguely wants.

Honestly, I’m not sure which of us needed the other more.

There have been signs.

This isn’t her first rodeo.

How easily she took to the litter box, as if she knew the house rules beforehand.

The way she claimed a corner of the couch, flopping over, and grooming herself like a seasoned house diva.

And the way she took to me, fast… too fast.

Yesterday, she climbed into my lap, curled into a cinnamon roll, and fell asleep. A feral cat doesn’t do that after a week. They need months, sometimes years, to build that kind of trust. This girl? She surrendered like she’d been waiting for this warm lap her whole nine lives.

Somewhere, at some point, she was loved. And then tossed out like last week’s takeout. That thought still makes my blood simmer. How people can discard a living creature like a broken appliance is beyond me.

She clearly didn’t choose the streets. She came back here night after night because she knew where her next meal was being served and who the fool with the can opener was. If she had a home, she’d have gone back. Cats are loyal, on their own terms, of course.

Yes, she was skittish at first, pretending to be just another wild neighbor like the true ferals I see lurking around. But she warmed up to me faster than Mama Cat ever did. It took Mama Cat over two years to trust me. Juno just strolled in like, “Well, it’s about time you opened the door, human.”

Of course, this peace treaty wasn’t always in effect. Mama Cat once laid down the law and chased Juno off for more than a month. I thought that was the end of our little romance. But like a furry boomerang, Juno returned. This time, she chose me.

Her every move now is cautious but hopeful, like someone testing the water after too many cold baths. My expectations and hopes are high but tempered. Change is hard. We’re both learning how to be someone’s “home” again.

Earlier today it hit me: we’re both nursing abandonment scars. Something happened that left her without a family. And life took my fur babies one by one, until Patch, my last boy, was gone.

This cat can’t replace Patch. No one can. But she’s carving her own little Juno-shaped nook in my heart. She’s different, tougher, streetwise. She’s seen some things. We both have led lives and learned things only the streets can teach. We both have been homeless; we both have been abandoned by someone we once loved and trusted. Both, wandering aimlessly in search of that one safe place we could call our own. That’s probably why she keeps shooting longing glances at the door, wondering if I am going to open it one day and demand that she leave. Or is it that she just feels the need to roam?

And that’s the rub. She wants out.

I do not wish for her to feel as if she is in prison, caged and no longer free, but I also want her to remain alive.

Rapid Run Road is basically a feline death trap disguised as a neighborhood street. At certain times of day, it turns into a racetrack for motorists who think brake pedals are optional. One wrong step, one distracted driver, and… No. I can’t even finish that sentence.

The thought of losing her, this tiny, unexpected piece of healing, wrecks me.

She has already changed my life in ways she’ll never understand.

I ask myself if I’m being selfish keeping her in.

The honest answer? Absolutely.

But selfishness in this case wears a label of love.

Fate delivered her to my doorstep, and I’ll be damned if I let a speeding SUV take her away.

She’s safe now.

She’s home.

And I can’t wait to see her come out of her shell completely. She has already proven to be loving and trusting of this old man, and I hope to give her the safe life she deserves. I am more than her protector, I am her daddy, and as such, as my father has taught me, she now and never again will wonder where her next meal is coming from. She will never have to sleep with one ear open, wondering if a predator is near. She will no longer have to search for a safe, warm and dry place to sleep.

And I?

I will never have to face a lonely house again or wake up alone. Now there is a comforting purring furry ball of love beside me each night to remind me, I matter, I am needed, and most of all, I am loved.