A Post a Day in May #16: Where there is trust there is heart

I have pledged to write a new post for this blog every day in May. 

They hook you with their vulnerability, reel you in with their need, and release you into life-long servitude with their charm. 

Photo by Biel Morro on Unsplash
To learn more about our cats,
read my post from last year.

I’m talking cats, of course. Possibly any animal will do this, but my experience lies with cats. I had a dog once, but it was a short-lived relationship. Let us not dwell on that. 

I grew up with cats and have lived with cats my entire life. The house is empty without one. Once, I lasted a whole six weeks between cats, but then I was back at the Humane Society finding the next one. Before that trip 11 years ago now, my cats had found me. I was a sitting duck, as it were. 

Monty (Montgomery) moved with me from Edmonton to Halifax, but was killed by a car shortly upon arrival. Newly made friends found me Bounty (Bountiful) to fill the void. Both were gorgeous orange felines, as friendly as they were beautiful. Both came to me as kittens and were helpless and hapless, and happy to have found a safe home. Our bonding was easy. 

Eighteen years later, as Bounty was on his way out, Blanco entered our lives. He was a stray who found his way into our yard, where Val began to feed him. Slowly, very slowly, the gap between the food being put down under the lawn chair and Blanco making his way to it lessened. And at some point, he would be at the chair when the food went down. That was the first step towards trust. The second was when he allowed himself to be touched. The third when he endured a groomer-on-call to cut off his matted fur and a traveling vet to check him out. The fourth and clinching step arrived when he allowed us to pet him and I allowed him into the house. Trust took time. 

It was after Blanco died of kidney failure that I lasted those six weeks without a cat. But one day, I got the urge that took me to the Humane Society and brought first Lewis, then Holly, into our lives. 

Lewis was a bit older, Holly just an adolescent. Lewis was supposed to be an indoor cat, but his previous life had clearly included the outdoors, so I would take him walking on a leash. He was brilliant at it and loved to nose his way up to dogs along the way to say hello. Talk about trust. 

Holly tolerates us, because we feed her and open the door for her. She seems aloof, a typical feline, but when she jumps up on the bed and cuddles into the crook of my arm, she is a purring bundle of need and want and affection. That is, until she’s had her fill. Then she’s off the bed and into the kitchen for food. So, yes: a typical feline. 

Chester was our other stray, another ginger. He was a tough one. It took weeks to close the gap between the food being put down and us being able to touch him. But we made steady progress and, one day, he was allowed into the house. And he came. He was a love bug. But at night, he wanted out out out. So out we let him. We feared for his safety out there overnight, but every morning he would return for food and shelter. And every night, out he would go again. Every morning, I would open the door and call him, and there he would be: what sweet relief. 

And that’s the other thread that is woven into the story of cats and owners (aka, support staff) — the other side of relief, the side that comes first: Fear. 

With every cat I’ve ever had (I hesitate to say “own”), I’ve experienced fear of loss somewhere along the way. Loss by accident or illness. And, at the cottage, loss by unexplained absence. When Holly has gone AWOL occasionally, I always say, “I at least want to find a paw, so I know a coyote got her. I don’t want to not know.” But every time, the little rascal has made her way home. All four paws intact. 

The one doesn’t come without the other: to love another sentient being is to suffer from fear of the loss of that being. But when trust nurtures affection, then the heart at the centre of it all bears the burden of the fear in return for the joy of the love. No matter how long- or short-lived it is. 

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