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| Story ID: | 1615 |
| Written by: | Virginia Allain (bio, link, contact, other stories) |
| Organization: | none |
| Story type: | Family Memories |
| Writers Conference: | $100 Best Inspirational Post Contest |
| Location: | Baltimore MD USA |
| Year: | 1987 |
| Person: | Gypsy, my cat |
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The homeless cat that I named Gypsy showed signs of physical abuse. I'll never know how her tail became just a stub. She had no expectation of kindness, as she cowered when a human hand descended towards her. My first view of her, as she crouched beneath a bush in the alley, showed a frightened, bedraggled animal. A neighbor had alerted me, calling out that he'd found a cat. Seeing her stumpy tail, he said maybe it's a bobcat and he backed away. She wasn't feral though, as she allowed me to lure her with food into the house. Her long hair did not become her with its tangles and mats. Over the first week as the burrs were removed and she had the leisure to wash herself, I could see she would be a beauty. With regular meals, her hollowed flanks filled in and her face lost its gauntness. Gradually she began to accept that she had found a home where she would be safe and cared for. She learned to purr again and to play. It took several months of enticing her with string before she had the confidence and spirit to pounce on it. Visitors did not see much of her the first year. Strange voices sent her into retreat behind the sofa or upstairs to safety. Gradually she grained enough confidence in her position in the household, that even strangers no longer frightened her. She returned my love over the years with loving gestures of her own. Wherever I was, she curled up next to me or on my lap. At a particularly sad time in my life, she tried to remove my tears with her rough tongue. How could anyone have been so cruel to this loving animal? |
