When it comes to rescue cats, we’re under an illusion of being saviours when we are actually the ones being rescued.
This is the third and final extract from an ongoing series of love letters which journalist Simona Terron is writing to her kitten Laurie while she’s away. Read the full series on the Medium mobile app.
“I’ve kinda gotten used to being called a head case among other way more uncharitable things, but hey, a little name-calling never actually hurt anyone, right?
So when I see you, a little kitten, abandoned and left to die of suffocation in a plastic bag, rescued but bounced from foster home to foster home, traumatised by an adoption gone horribly wrong where you had things thrown at you because a misguided parent wanted a playmate for his lonely, social outcast of a child. Not caring that you too were just a frightened little child and his child was endangering your very life… yet you were so friendly, so curious and so trusting.”
“I’ve seen many beings scarred by their interactions with broken humans who never learn to trust again, who view everyone and everything with suspicion, who are just waiting to be proved right about their safety being in perennial jeopardy… if I am being honest, most days I AM just such a being.
And then there’s you, my little orange monkey, who runs around playing like some psycho energizer bunny and then tired, plops himself in my lap like you own it (which you do) or takes a snooze right in front of my warm, humming computer like my work doesn’t even matter in the larger scheme of things much as your urgent need to nap right now.
You don’t hesitate to yowl for your food when you’re hungry and when you want a cuddle. You demand one till I drop everything else and acquiesce, confused about who is soothing whom as I stroke your softness and wonder why simply holding your precious form in my hands does me more good than all the meditation, journaling and therapy in the world.
And this only begs the question: who’s the one who’s rescued? So, every time I feel like throwing my own pity party, feeling unloved and unwanted, and basically taking a giant dump on myself and then wallowing in the steamy crap of self-defeating self-hate… I need only look at you…
… feisty, independent, confident in his lovableness and ability to love right back, eager for every waking minute and peaceful in every resting one, and you set me right back on track.”
To check out the series in its entirety, visit Love letters to Laurie.
Via daily prompt Illusion