I believe cats to be spirits come to earth. A cat, I am sure, could walk on a cloud without coming through.
~Jules Verne
I am not a cat person. Yeah, sure, when I was younger, I would love going to the pet shop and seeing the kittens play. They were so cute when they were chasing balls of string. But then I picked one up, and it clawed at me and screeched like something out of a horror movie. I was definitely not a cat person.
Instead, I got a beautiful mini-Schnauzer named Charlie, and of course, I walk him regularly. If it weren’t for that, the other thing wouldn’t have happened.
One day, I took Charlie out for a quick walk right after a rainstorm. I heard a strange sound as we walked under a tree. I thought it was some kind of bird crying out. But when I looked up, I saw it: a tiny white kitten, clinging to a branch and crying. When our eyes connected, it was like he knew. Even though he was at least twelve feet up, he jumped.
I ran to the little guy, Charlie by my side, and grabbed him off the ground. One of his eyes was closed, his nose was bleeding, and he was skin and bones. I didn’t know what to do at first. I held him in my arms, looking around as he clawed at me with his tiny nails. I thought someone had to own him, but no one came out to thank me for saving their kitten.
So I ran home, with Charlie trying to jump up and see what was in my arms and making that horrible noise.
I called my husband. “Come home! I’m standing here with a kitten in my arms.”
“I’m sorry, a what?”
“A kitten. It’s hurt. You need to come help me.”
My husband came home, and we put the kitten in a shoebox and drove to our vet. She had explained over the phone that if we brought in the kitten and they treated it, we would have to pay for it. If we put the kitten outside their door, they were not allowed to take it in.
So, despite the fact that I was not a cat person, I thought to myself, I picked him up and brought him home, so he is my responsibility now. We will pay for whatever is wrong with him and find him a good home.
Turns out, he hurt his nose, but it would be fine. He was skin and bones because he had left his mother and was probably eating out of the trash. His eye was irritated, and he was so flea-infested that the poor thing probably would have been dead in a week if I hadn’t found him.
We treated him and asked stupid questions that cat people know but dog people don’t. We thought he would have to drink milk. News flash: Cats drink water.
He had worms, so we had to go back to the vet a few weeks later for more shots.
He snuggled with me and purred when I petted him. He curled up next to Charlie, who had never seen a cat before, but was more than happy to have a new friend.
We bought litter, cat trees, bowls and cat food, all the while thinking, We are both sort of allergic to cats, so once he’s healthy, we will find him a good home.
But that didn’t happen because we fell in love with him.
Casper is what we named him. An all-white domestic shorthair with a slightly smaller left eye than right, he became Casper the friendly cat. It was the week of Halloween when I found him, and to be frank he scared the heck out of me when he jumped at me from the tree.
Casper now eats the best food I can provide, is showered with toys, enjoys snuggling up in Charlie’s old bed, and enjoys lying in the sun or slapping Charlie’s feet as he walks by. Casper is part of my family now. Sometimes I catch myself looking at him, wondering why someone didn’t take care of him the moment he was born, imagining how scared he must have been in the storm that day, or what would have happened if I hadn’t found him. But I did, and I’m happy I did.
So no, I wasn’t a cat person, but I am now.
~Jessica L. Moran
