Cat in Color
I
remember ten years ago. I was still a kitten, then. The lights and the colors
and the world were all so bright. My memories seem so distant – speckles
of recollections flash then fade in the back of my brain. A motherÕs warm milk,
my brothers and sisters crawling over each other, fighting over the thing we
needed most to keep us alive. But we werenÕt afraid of death back then. We
werenÕt afraid of anything, in fact ÒI can only remember the feeling security I
enjoyed for those first few days and weeks of my life.Ó[1]
We
mustÕve been on a farm. Other four-legged creatures with big eyes and pointy
ears lurked around in the fields. Some were bigger than others. Many were white
and black, like me. Others were fat and pink. Some hung out alone, others in
groups. They all reeked of manure.
We
were already big enough to wander around the farm by ourselves when he put up
the ÒFree KittensÓ sign. It wasnÕt long afterwards that the old lady came,
smelling of stale mints and butterscotch. Her hair was golden, like the fields
of wheat I was always too scared to wander into – I was afraid I would
never be able to find my way back out again.
The
old lady looked at us closely. My brothers and sisters enjoyed her presence,
purring as she tickled them between their ears. But I kept my distance because
I knew how tricky those humans could be. IÕd seen them around the farm. The
little ones chased me until I found a spot where even their tiny, furless paws
couldnÕt reach me. The bigger ones usually ignored me. They kept their
distance, so I kept mine. I liked being left alone.
To
my dismay the old lady took notice of me. She said things to me that I couldnÕt
understand, but for some reason, I wasnÕt scared. I let her pet me. She picked
me up. I regretted that, because before I knew it, I was leaving the farm.
Shortly
after, we arrived at a large, white house on an endless plot of land. It wasnÕt
as big as the farm, but there was definitely enough room to stretch my little
kitten legs. When she got out of the car, she left the door open. I was
hesitant, but eventually jumped out and found comfort under the front porch.
She didnÕt come looking for me, but I could hear her rocking chair creaking on
the wood panels above.
The
place I once called ÒhomeÓ
I remained hidden for days. I was never
sought for, and soon I realized how lonely I was. Where were my brothers and
sisters? My mom? I didnÕt understand. I looked for the answers each day, slowly
moving further and further away from the confines on the porchÕs shelter. But
every new sound sent me right back under to the safety and security of the
dark.
The
old lady was sitting on the front porch when I finally made it to the big,
white house. She showed me her teeth. I licked my fur. I looked inside the
house from the porch. The sunlight was shining in the windows, illuminating an
old southern home. It looked like it was glowing. We were never allowed to go
inside at the farm. The man there called us Òbarn catsÓ. In nine years, the old
lady never called me that. Instead, she called me ÒCookieÓ.
She
was gentle and quiet. I donÕt know if it was her innate calmness that soothed me,
or if it was the way the house always smelled like fallen leaves. She let me
sit on her lap as she played with yarn. When I felt mischievous, IÕd claw at
the ends of her contraptions to which sheÕd respond by giggling and ÒshooingÓ
me away. Slowly I grew close to her – something I had never dreamed
possible. But she was different. She was mine.
Everything
about her was yellow. She had sunflower hair and butterscotch breath, and when
I sat on her lap and she talked to me, sunlight reflected off of her skin. I
never understood what she was saying, or if she was saying anything at all.
Sometimes I closed me eyes and heard her bright singsong voice, soft and yellow
and I was lulled to sleep, purring as she stroked the fur behind my little,
black ear. She talked to me underneath the yellow stars. She made all the other
colors fade. She was yellow.
Then
one day she turned white. She grabbed the side of her chest. I meowed as loudly
as I could. Bright lights flashed and I hid under our bed, too scared to come out.
But two hands found me and I was ripped away from my home. Seven years had come
and gone too quickly. I guess seven years was all she had left.
Soon
I found myself among many other cats, trapped in a cage. I didnÕt know where I
was or what I was doing there. Where was the old lady? Would she come back for
me? Years passed and my questions were left unanswered. Now IÕm ten years old.
They call me an old cat, but I donÕt feel old. I just feel tired.
I
am trapped in a small cage with many other cats. Now, Òthe world is bars,
100,000 bars, and behind the bars, nothing.Ó[3]
I cannot escape these bars, though I have never actually tried.
Some
of the cats have been in here longer than others. Some only stay for a couple of
days before being carried away in the arms of a human. Some play with toys,
others sleep like they havenÕt slept in years. I donÕt blame them. Dream world
is more exciting than this bore of a place. Some get very excited when the humans
come into our cage. Some are like me; we seek to ignore and be ignored.
I
see humans daily, but they are nothing like the old lady. They look at me and
see nothing. I perch on the highest point I can find and look out the window. The
outside is different here than it was back home. The ground is black, not green
or brown. Objects of all different shapes and sizes quickly pass by. I can only
find comfort in the night. The moon quiets down the outside world and brings me
with it. ÒI can hear mysterious and magic voices, when I can see the darkness
is all aliveÓ with sounds I heard in my old homes, like the wind rustling
leaves outside the window, or crickets playing in the grass.[4]
The night is the time I feel most at home. But during the day, that changes.
The daylight brings sounds that are loud
and abrupt. When I catch a smell, it reeks of sewage. The only thing thatÕs the
same as my old home is that bright sun. I look at it through this window and
wonder if maybe thatÕs where the old lady is, the same as she always was
– my light in the vast and endless blue. My yellow.
The
beautiful, yellow sun.
Yellow.
ThatÕs the color I think of when I think of happiness – of flowers and
sunshine the sweet scent of sugar. I
like to think animals associate a lot of things with color, just as humans do,
because in a lot of ways itÕs a survival instinct. They may not see colors the
way we do (they may be color blind), but they must be able to detect shades. ThatÕs
why I chose a story about a cat and an old lady and the way she was yellow to
her. That was my favorite part of writing this – being able to be
creative while extending the sympathetic imagination.
Extending
the sympathetic imagination was easier than I thought it would be. Although it
was hard keeping it from being too much from the point of view of a human, and
I know at some points the cat has more advanced thoughts than probably
possible, I still like to think that all animals are deeper than we give them
credit for. Animals are beautiful, smart and intelligent. They are a curiosity.
From a young age I have found them fascinating, and have even thought about
dedicating my life to their service. This stems from my born-with empathetic
personality. While sympathy is Òbeing affected by the condition of another with
a feeling similar or correspond to that of the otherÓ empathy is a little bit
deeper. [6]
Being empathetic is being put into the shoes of another being – you feel
what it feels, you want what it wants; you see the world the way it does.
Empathy is an easier emotion to feel towards humans because we are humans. When
it comes to animals, we often project our own human emotions onto them and call
that empathy. We ask questions like: ÒWhat would it be like if I was an animal
trapped in a science laboratory?Ó or ÒWhat if I was a fish in the sea and my
son was stolen?Ó when we should be asking, ÒHow do those animals feel when
these things happen to them?Ó.
ThatÕs
the question I asked myself during this project. How does the cat I spent the
most time with at the shelter, Oreocookies, feel? The answer wasnÕt simple
since she sat by the window and paid little to no attention to me. But, just
being around taught me a lot. ÒWith someone from another species, this presence
is really a question of how much you can open yourself to the experience, just
that experience, what it is.Ó[7]
By being there and trying to connect with Oreocookies, I was able to gather a
lot of feelings and information just by watching this cat for a period of time.
And by opening myself up to these emotions, I was able to connect and learn
something from her. Some of the other cats that shared her large cage rubbed
against me, purred, played with the toys, and enjoyed themselves. But her and a
couple other cats just sat there. They werenÕt sleeping. They were just there, in the now, living. As I watched her it seemed that ÒSilently, a vision
enter[ed], slip[ped] through the focused silence of [her] shoulders, reach[ed]
[her] heart, and die[d].Ó[8]
It seemed like she would find hope, and then give up on it. As she stared out
that window, I imagined her missing something.
Oreocookies
staring out the window
Since she had little to say to me or the
other cats, I decided to make up a story for her. Oreocookies is a ripe ten
years old, so she was probably somewhere for a long time before ending up in
the shelter. Since I like to think of animals being happy, I enjoyed writing
about this part of her life. But then I got to the part where I had to write
about her being in the shelter, and that was very painful. I donÕt want to
think about an animal not being loved and cared for by a kindhearted human.
That part was hard, but it also widened my circle of compassion.
I have always felt bad for the animals in
the shelter, but have had mixed feelings because at least they are in a shelter
where they are (hopefully) safe. Austin Pets Alive (and the City of Austin) is
no-kill so I didnÕt necessarily feel bad for these cats – but there was
something about Oreocookies. I donÕt know if it made me sad that she was ten
years old and could possibly die in that small cage with all those other cats,
or that she still hasnÕt been adopted when so many other cats have. Or maybe it
was the way she stared out the window, dreaming of another world, a past world,
a made-up world. Who is to say that cats donÕt have an imagination, memories,
or awareness of the past, present, and future? Maybe they donÕt worry the same
way we do, but I think in some ways they have their own battles to face every
day. So when I think of Oreocookies, I think of her dreaming of her old home.
Maybe she misses it. Maybe she misses someone. After all cats are Òlovesome
creatures who would never leave [their loved ones], had they once given them
their hearts.Ó[10]
Oreocookies
looking pretty
As
humans we have been trained to take animals of Òless importanceÓ for granted.
We eat them, wear them, and steal from them. We use them, dishonor their trust,
and dishonor their lives. By putting ourselves into the mind of another
creature, we broke the boundary between human and animal, and began to see what
it means to treat animals unfairly, even if we only saw a very small part of
it.
I
have always been one to dig deeper into the mind of animals. When I came to
college I wanted to be a biologist. Someone said to me, ÒSo you want to sit outside
and count ducks all day?Ó I swiftly replied, ÒYes.Ó Anyone who has spent time
with nature knows that it heals all things. Just try. ÒWatch any plant or
animal and let it teach you acceptance of what is, surrender to the Now. Let it teach you Being. Let it teach you
integrity –which means to be one, to be yourself, to be real. Let it
teach you how to live and how to die, and how not to make living and dying a problem.Ó[12]
ThatÕs the one thing I learned most from this project – animals teach us
more than humanly possible. Oreocookies taught me that even a cat in a no-kill
shelter is not living. She taught me that everyone and everything deserves a
chance. She showed me the way animals mourn; the way the long for something
past and distant.
Animals teach us that our lives arenÕt
the only thing that matter. They teach us acceptance, integrity, and strength.
They teach us to be ourselves, even when it hurts. ItÕs not about life and
death. ItÕs about living.
Word
Count:
With Quotes – 2266
Without
Quotes – 2109
Appendix
Oreocookies
Bio:
Loyal – Cute – Cuddly
Oreocookies is a black and white tuxedoed
female. Though she seems very stand-offish, she is very sweet when it come to
being a friend, companion, and pet. She likes to perch herself on the highest
places she can find, but will come down to be loved on and to rub herself
against the other cats and occasionally someoneÕs legs. SheÕs a bit on the
older side, around 10 years, but still has the spunk of a kitten at night when
itÕs time to play. She loves to stare out the window during the day, watching
leaves blow around, critters running, and all of the other things that are
happening. Her beautiful tuxedo patterning is very interesting. Being a
domestic shorthair mix, her fur is soft and light, which makes petting her
great for her and for you!
Oreocookies
gets along very well with other cats, and fits her name perfectly. She is black
and white and very sweet, just like an Oreo! She would make a great cat in any
family due to her easy-going nature – she gets along well with other
animals and people of all ages!
Oreocookies is also very behaved and
calm. She doesnÕt run around too much and isnÕt too loud or messy. She can be
playful from time to time, but is better for cuddling than for playing with.
She is quite the watch cat!
While watching TV or reading a book, she
loves to cuddle up in a warm, cozy lap and softly purr in her sleep, making her
a great friend and a great pet. She is relaxed and laid back, and ready for any
adventure you have to offer her!
All APA! foster kittens/cats are litter
box trained, tested for FeLV/FIV, spayed/neutered, vaccinated, treated for
worms/fleas, microchipped and come with a 30-day health insurance plan.
If you have additional questions about
Oreocookies, please send an e-mail to adopt@austinpetsalive.org
Virginia
Bio:
Calm – Sweet – Simple
Virginia is a female tuxedoed cat. She is
a domestic shorthair mix and her black and white fur is fluffy and soft, like
her personality. She is shy at first, but human companionship is something that
brightens her mood. She perches herself high up to watch everything that
happens below her. She isnÕt scared of many things, and is a loving girl with
beautiful, green eyes. She is quiet and comfortable doing her own thing, but
also enjoys having company, including other cats, dogs, or people. She loves
being pet between and behind the ears, and will purr gently when shown
affection. SheÕs not too old, only around 2 years, and still has quite a bit of
spunk to her, but is also calm and well mannered in her ways. She would make a
great pet!
Virginia
is very clean and low maintenance. She would make a great cat for any
situation. She is great with other animals, but may be a little bit shy at
first around dogs or other large pets. She does well with children, and is very
tolerant and accepting Once she
settles into her new home expect her to be comfortable and cuddly!
Virginia
is very calm and sweet. She loves to lay around lazily all day, and only plays
occasionally. She does like to creep around the house and be in the room where
all the interesting things are happening so she can take part in the action.
She is quite the character when she wants to be, remembering that she is still
a young cat. She is curious and outgoing, but also content in any situation.
She would make a great pal and loving pet!
All
APA! foster kittens/cats are littler box trained, tested for FeLV/FIV,
spayed/neutered, vaccinated, treated for worms/fleas, microchipped and come with
a 3-day health insurance plan.
If
you have additional questions about Virginia, please send an e-mail to adopt@austinpetsalive.org