When you Are Called Upon

I remember the day we met. It was a typical Autumn day in November of 2015; the four of us were huddled in Bill and Kay’s former 500 foot two-bedroom assisted-living apartment. She kept darting from the family member who was now left behind to find her a home. I felt so bad for her. It was obvious that she hid because she was frightened. I could also tell there was not a mean bone in her body. She was just scared. I’m hoping that she sensed someone familiar was

there—my mom. After all, we called her by name…Squirt.

 

 

Squirt was a petite, black and grey-striped tabby. She was somewhere between 11 and 12 years of age…that’s the closest I could ever get to a definitive answer. No one knew exactly. They could only guess from markers in time, such as when she arrived as a lost tiny, hungry and rain-drenched kitten in Winter when the active-living retirement community of homes up the road were in the early stages of being built years ago. 

As our visit progressed in the cramped apartment, I observed and silently mulled over concerns about this now orphaned older cat coming to live with me. I bargained with myself about adopting a senior kitty. The oldest cat that I ever adopted was four. I had just gone through a devastating heartbreak over the sudden loss of my beloved cat, Marla, three months prior. I knew that I wasn’t strong enough emotionally to go through that pain again if the Lord only gives us a short time together. I had adopted Eve that August and Sara, Marla’s half-sister, was my other fur child. I had arisen from the ashes and was again the two-cat pet parent that I had always been; and yet now, I am presented with this dilemma.

 

I trusted in my mom’s repeated assurance that I’m looking at a wonderful cat. I felt the urgency in my mom’s voice as this cat faced an imminent trip to the pound. The family member wasn’t in a position to adopt Squirt, because his immediate family was allergic to cats and after he asked around, other assisted-living residents weren’t in a position to take her in either.

I envisioned Bill and Kay. They had been neighbors and friends of my parents for six years. I had come to know them as well and enjoyed visiting with them at my parent’s home. They exhibited a tremendously kind spirit every time. 

 

Kay lost her long battle with kidney disease after several trips to and from the hospital and Bill passed away suddenly two months prior from a heart attack. To top it off, they and Squirt had only lived in their assisted-living apartment for three months after moving from the only home Squirt had ever known for over a decade. She experienced life changes that many humans have difficulty getting through. 

I put myself in Squirt’s situation. My heart ached for her loss. I flashbacked to my book launch in 2010 and the fun that I had chatting with Kay. She and Bill later shared how much they enjoyed reading my book, which indicated to me that they loved animals as much as I do.

 

In that moment, I realized that the concern over a potentially limited time with Squirt was all about me and my selfish need to protect my heart from pain, while this sweet orphan needed a home. A sense of peace came over me. I knew that Bill and Kay would be pleased if I were the one to take Squirt. It was the right thing to do. I felt confident that even from Heaven, they knew that I’d do everything that I could to give Squirt a wonderful life.

 

And so, I said, “Okay, Squirt. You don’t have to be scared any more. You’re coming home with me. I’m going to give you a great life. I promise."

 

Not knowing her medical history was challenging at first, because veterinarians weren’t sure if her vomiting was attributed to those several adjustments in her life or the chronic medical condition that it turned out to be. But it never mattered to me, because I would do whatever it took to give my Squirt a long, beautiful life.

 

I have never had a cat as cuddly and unconditionally devoted as Squirt. I never had a cat that the minute I sat or laid on the couch was next to me and stayed there. I never had a cat who by the time I got into bed at night and turned to my side was there purring and wanting to be cradled in my arms. 

 

I hoped that I was helping Squirt live the best possible life with veterinary diets, monthly vet exams with B-12 shots, and the delicate dance between nausea medications and appetite stimulants, but animals don’t understand why we do what we do. I’d grab my notebook off and on to write this piece…to share my love for Squirt and show people how at whatever age, pets bring enormous joy to our lives. I wanted her to shine—to have the spotlight dedicated to her. Each time I tried to write, I ended up scratching my previous work and starting over. It just never seemed good enough to honor her in the way that I believe she deserves.

 

Until now. The words come easier, because my heart aches profoundly. I had to let her go. I’m working my way through the phases of grief, and I will spare you from the raw emotion. My focus is on encouraging you to open your heart and home to pets of any age. None of us know how long we have on this Earth. It’s no different with pets. My two other cats have definitely helped me heal, but we are all mourning.

 

Since the day that I brought Squirt home, I’ve kept Kay’s memorial service program posted on my office bulletin board. I felt by displaying it, Kay would be our guardian angel and look over us. I wanted her divine help in giving Squirt a wonderful life. I wanted her to see that I was trying. Before we headed to our last vet visit, I passed by the bulletin board and was reminded that Kay’s birthday is in a few days.

 

Through the floodgate of final goodbye tears on Wednesday, I held her tightly and said, “I love my Squirt. I will miss you so very much. Bill and Kay are waiting for you, but I’ll see you later.” Though I did not want to let her go, I did. I left the somber clinic room finding some comfort in knowing that Squirt is now strong and pain-free and that Kay will be overjoyed on her birthday this year…she gets to hold her beloved Squirt once again.

 

Have you felt the tug within and talked yourself out of something? Or do you trust that you are brought to that moment in time for a reason? If the day comes that you are called upon, thankfully welcome the blessing that has been divinely given to you.

My dear, sweet Squirt. It has been an honor and a privilege to care for you these past two years. Every time you sped down the hallway or basked on the window perch, you showed me that you were happy. You warmed my heart. I terribly miss hearing your meow greeting every time I walked in the door. Maybe one day the extreme sorrow of missing your purr and cradling you in my arms won’t hurt as bad. Despite all that we went through with your health, you always gave me unconditional love. I’m forever grateful to my mom who brought us together. Thank you, my beloved Squirt, for coming into my life and enriching it so much. I hope that I lived up to my promise the day we met that I’d give you a great life.

Love, Denise

 

What was your favorite moment from Horse at the Corner Post? Did anything from the book inspire you? Or was there something I've done to inspire you? I'd love to hear about it.

 
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Denise Branco, 69 Lincoln Blvd., #A-119, Lincoln, CA 95648
916-316-6567

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