An Earthquake in American Lives

The woman appeared at our door on a hectic Saturday when we hadn’t even eaten lunch by late afternoon.  She had two small children, three dogs and a cat, and sometime in the next few days she was moving back north to live with her mother.  Only one pet could go along, and it could not be a cat.
Something in her look of desperation struck a chord.  “Is it domestic violence?” I asked, with no right to know her story.

She looked surprised, then welled up with tears.  “Yes,” she said softly, “I can’t take it any more and it’s getting worse. I can’t let my kids grow up this way.” I told her to bring the cat in on Monday, so she showed up soon after we opened.  The beautiful little children walked right through as though nothing mattered to them.  Without looking, the daughter touched her kitten’s head in mom’s arms as she passed.

“Is she upset?” I asked. The child wore an adult’s sunglasses, oversized on her small features, concealing most of her face. “She’s cried all day,” the mother replied.  About that time the little girl started sobbing in front of a cage full of cats. “Let’s make a deal,” I said to her.  “You’re giving me your cat, how about I give you this one?”  I took a stuffed animal from a shelf and she examined it closely.  It was white, like her cat, and she hugged it tight.  It did not make her pain go away, but maybe it eased it just a little bit.  The boy shrugged and tried to act tough. While we did a little paperwork, I talked to him about how important it was to treat people and animals with respect.  My teaching dog Sully was there and I taught him a few of my lessons about dogs.  Sully even made him smile a little bit.  His sunglasses were smaller and I could see his tension relax just a little. I gave him a DVD about dogs.

I told the mother what lay ahead, that even though times had been hard, she still would hear her children cry at night for their father and for lost pets.  I told her it would get better and the important thing was for her to teach these precious children that no one had the right to hurt them or make them feel inferior. She said that she had seen her father hit her mother often and when it began with her, she knew she could not pass the lessons on to her kids.

I can’t fix the anguish in Haiti, and I can’t cure all the troubles in the world.  But maybe for this little family being crushed under the debris of a failed relationship, maybe for these little kids holding the weight of the world on their shoulders, knowing that their cat will find a good home made the passage a little easier.

It’s another of the little miracles that happen all the time at Kitty City.  When I tell people that it’s a magical place, this will be one of my new stories of healing that happens because we are there.
All of our volunteers are part of the magic.  We are given awesome abilities to help people and cats and dogs because we care enough to go there and clean and comfort and reassure humans and animals alike that tomorrow will be a better day for them.

We can’t prevent the earthquake, but maybe we can move the mountain.