When I am feeling low, all I have to do is watch my cats and my courage returns.
~Charles Bukowski
About twelve years ago, my daughter’s father moved over a thousand miles away without saying goodbye to her. When we discovered he had left, Danielle was inconsolable, hurt, and angry. No amount of hugs or explanations could heal her broken heart, and I was at a loss in knowing how to help her. Since she had a nurturing personality and a deep love for animals, I decided to cheer her up with something to refocus her attention — a kitten.
At the rescue facility we spotted a fist-sized, fuzzy, black kitten meowing at the top of his lungs. His green eyes were bright, and his pert, little ears — much too big for his small head — stood at attention. He was amidst his brothers and sisters, all variations of gray and white. He was the only black kitten in the litter, and he was the tiniest.
When Dani held him in her arms, it was love at first sight. The kitten curled belly-up into her arms and purred so loudly that he sounded like a baby freight train. “Oh, Mommy, I love him. Can we keep him?”
“What are you going to name him?” I asked.
“Spencer,” she said.
Spencer proved to be acutely aware that his presence was healing for Dani. He was high-maintenance in his need for cuddles and petting. If he wasn’t getting enough attention, he would meow. It wasn’t just a little mewling — it was a loud, piercing, mournful meow.
Keeping Spencer out of trouble, or rescuing him from trouble, was a twenty-four-hour job! I still laugh when I recall the time he got his head stuck in a hamster ball. The hamster got away safely, but poor Spencer looked like an astronaut roaming the moon.
My daughter took her role as kitty mommy seriously. She made sure he was fed, watered, and had clean litter. As the years passed, Dani thrived. Her hurt and anger turned into a positive energy that motivated her to achieve high grades throughout high school, so much so that she eventually got a full scholarship to college.
The drawback to going to college was that Spencer could not go with her. Instead, he stayed behind with my new husband and me. When Dani left, Spencer’s neediness diminished, and he became a lazy cat who only occasionally wanted affection. When Dani would return home for long weekends, Spencer’s mournful meows and need for love would reappear as if he found his renewed purpose.
Dani eventually moved off campus and took Spencer with her. Spencer easily fell into her routine without requiring so much attention. He would curl at her feet when she was studying, and she slept with the sweet sound of his purrs in her ear, always her vigilant and faithful cat.
Then Dani met her future fiancé, and he was allergic to cats. He would sneeze, wheeze, and become deathly ill whenever he was around Spencer. Since my husband and I were moving into an RV with a Bull Mastiff, we couldn’t take Spencer. Dani’s fiancé offered to get weekly allergy shots, but that was not a viable solution for a lifetime commitment. Dani began the painful task of seeking a new home for her precious Spencer, but after months of looking she had not found the right place for him.
Dani worked with fish and wildlife, so she was surrounded by fellow animal lovers. When a co-worker announced that his wife of ten years left him and his three children, Dani’s heart went out to his daughters and son. She remembered her emotions when her dad left and how it devastated her. She also recalled how much Spencer helped her heal from the loss of her dad.
Dani asked her co-worker, “How are the kids taking it?”
“Bad. Very bad. I don’t know how to stop them from hurting,” he confided.
“Have you thought about adopting a cat? One who has experience in helping kids get over the loss of a parent?”
When my daughter shared her story, the co-worker asked to bring the kids over to meet Spencer. The minute they walked into Dani’s home, Spencer started his mournful, pitiful, loud meow. He jumped into the arms of the smallest child, a four-year-old, who tried to comfort Spencer by saying, “It’s okay, kitty. It’s okay.” Spencer rolled belly-up and started purring like a baby freight train.
“Can we keep him, Daddy? Can we take him home?”
It was love at first sight. Spencer was doing what he did best — healing a broken heart.
~Dawn Smith Gondeck
