by Elizabeth Owens
The sun had been un for only a few hours, but already it was planning to be a hot afternoon. hiding out in the home to avoid the heat, i suddenly realized that i was almost out of cigarettes. oh dear, that would be a crime! rousing my napping husband, we loaded up in my beat up car, and headed to wal-mart for smokes. but tyhat day held something imprtant ahead, much more precious than nicotine. it would hold love.
arriving at the store, we found it packed, and had to park way back in the parking lot. after the long walk to the front doors, i noticed an abandoned box off to the side of the door. curiosity got the better of me, and i looked inside.
there, dead from the heat, were abandoned kittens. i started crying at the poor fuzzballs' deaths, and wondered who could be so cruel to leave small animals out in this kind of heat without shade or water. then something in the box.. moved...
half buried under her siblings, a female black kitten struggled to get free of her siblings. i carefully reached into the box and got her loose, and held her up to take a closer look. she was panting in the heat, and touching her soft black fur was like resting a hand on the stove as the oven baked. hurrying, i dropped some change in the soda machine and got a bottle of water, and poured a bit in the cap and offered it to her. as though knowing that too much cold water on a hot day could make you sick, she would take a sip or two, wait a moment, then take another sip.
my heart was taken.
i looked over to my husband, and he just smiled, though not a week ago we had talked about getting a cat and he stood by the belief that we needed the money for bills. he knew better than to stand between me and my new baby. carrying the cat snuggled in the crook of my arm, we purchased cat stuff, from litter boxes to catnip toys. nothing was too good for my new furr baby!
on the ride home she hid under my seat, and made if difficult to get her into the house, but once there settled in quite quickly, claiming the arm of the couch as her personal perch. i named her Psylocke, after a character from the comic books i used to read. from that day on she ruled the roost, letting the other cats who would come later know that She was the Queen.
Psylocke had a rare blood disorder that caused her to turn on her kittens in her 2nd year of being with me. she eventually would have turned on the other cats, and then us. she was put to sleep, and i still cry at her passing.
in the wildflower area in my mother's yard, there is a small concrete kitty with a set of tags around her throat. wait for me Psylocke, i have a lot of living to do. but one day, we chall cross the Rainbow Bridge together, along with your kittens. one day...