Prowling his own quiet backyard or asleep by the fire, he is still only a whisker away from the wild.
~Jean Burden, Celebration of Cats
My best friend and I worked with a rescue group called the Mercy Crusade, which was very active in the 1960s and ’70s. I believe the group is still around as a spay-and-neuter facility, but back then it was a group of people who fostered animals of all types in their homes until they could be permanently placed on ranches or air-lifted back into the wild, depending on their needs and the type of animal. The Crusade provided all the food and any needed veterinary care for the refugees until they were settled.
We had sheltered dogs, cats, reptiles, foxes, birds, and even a bobcat at one time. They would be welcomed by our permanent residents: our three girls, three dogs, multiple cats, one pigeon, and one iguana.
One rainy night, I had left the window open for our cat, Ringo, who liked to come and go from outside. As my husband and I slept, well bundled up in our blankets, I felt a vague thump on the bed. Thinking it was just one of the cats hopping up to snuggle down in the blankets, I rolled over and pulled the comforter up around my neck.
Then something suddenly dropped on my chest and touched my neck. There was something small and round scratching my face! Ringo was an accomplished hunter, so I screamed and brushed it onto the floor, thinking it was a rat. In a panic, my husband jumped up and turned on the light.
“It’s Ringo!” I said. “Another one of his hunting trophies.”
Ringo was renowned in the neighborhood for clearing our gardens of mice, rats, and gophers.
My husband looked around, but saw nothing by our bed. “Either a bad dream, or he took it back out the window,” he said. “Go back to sleep.”
He turned out the light, and I pulled the blanket back up around my neck, making sure there were no foreign objects in the folds. Then I heard it: a small “thump, thump, thump,” as if something was hopping around under the bed.
I reached across the bed and turned the light back on. Then I spotted Ringo sitting next to the bed, intently watching something. I looked over and saw it — a very tiny, totally black bunny was hopping around his feet. And Ringo the great hunter was just looking at it. Then he jumped on the bed and, purring, curled up at my feet.
My husband and I looked at the bunny in amazement. Ringo was now sound asleep and had forgotten the whole thing.
We got up, took out one of the large carrier cages, and made the bunny a home in the bedroom. The next day, the girls were overjoyed with Ringo’s gift and named him Spunky.
Spunky grew into a healthy, medium-sized rabbit. He became close friends with all the animals in the house, but particularly my iguana Freddy, who loved to sleep curled around the rabbit, with his head resting on the warm, soft fur of his back.
Ringo did not stop being an avid hunter, but he was fiercely protective of his rabbit friend. I don’t know what made Ringo decide to rescue this tiny bunny instead of eat him. Only he knew that. But they remained close friends for years. It was just one of those strange and beautiful miracles that animals can bring into our lives.
~Joyce Laird
