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Blogs by Michelle Close Mills
Castles in the Sky: October 18, 2012 10/18/2012 6:48:20 AM
Finding Love...
Recently my best bud Susan adopted an adult Siamese kitty from Pinellas County Animal Control in Florida. She said she didn’t know that it was a high-kill shelter. Susan just wanted a friend.
I wish more people were like her. A number of friends volunteer at shelters or foster animals destined for euthanasia. Many are strays, products of animals who have never been spayed or neutered.
Their stories break my heart over and over.
Our home has never seen a pure-bred anything. Every kitty we’ve welcomed into our home has warmed us with their own special light.
We’ve always gone to the SPCA for our kitties. Like the county shelter, the SPCA is also a high-kill facility. They don’t like to advertise it, but it’s a common practice. Thus, I’m continually surprised by the demand for cats purchased from breeders when there are lives to be saved in their own community; animals who need loving families.
A few years ago I wrote the following story about my precious Simon (a/k/a Bag of Spots). He’s a regular kitty. No pedigree, but he has something far more important. He has a heart full of love. I hope that when you’ve reached the end, you’ll know where to find your next furry buddy.
A BAG FULL OF SPOTS
It’s funny how a four legged bag of spots can take a rainy dawn, and turn it into a day filled with sunshine.
This morning my two year old kitty Simon came in to wake me (as he does every morning). He was meowing, digging for gold under the sheets, poking my legs with his cold nose…the usual.
I rolled over and tickled his pudgy little tummy; a daily ritual. He writhes around like a snake as I ruffle his belly…he loves it.
Then he got too close to the edge of the bed, (which is near the wall) and off he went with a great big thud!
He always does that. I think he falls off the bed on purpose to hear me laugh. Simon is my very own court jester.
But what he did next is something he’s never done before.
He landed on the floor so hard that he broke wind.
It wasn't a typical feline silent creeper; one that leaves us suspiciously sniffing the air and each other, then realizing that he was the culprit.
Nope.
Simon tooted like an old man who’d had gobbled down a couple of bean burritos for breakfast.
I didn’t think cats could do that.
I laughed so hard that I cried.
Several hours later I was still giggling as I thought of my precious boy and all he brings to my world. Of course the more I smiled, the more other people smiled, and it just kind of caught on. It was rainy no more…at least not in the office anyway.
I doubt that my gassy little bag of spots had a clue that he’d indirectly brightened the lives of dozens of people with a simple case of flatulence.
But I know.
He is a gift.
And I am so very grateful.
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Moral of the story: Pedigrees mean very little when it it comes to loving an animal.
