love

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The Cat & Erna’s Garden

View on Substack: https://thekindlife.substack.com/p/the-cat-and-ernas-garden

Erna’s home carried the scent of roses and crisp cotton sheets. Her kitchen was sunny, with worn oak floorboards and flowery curtains billowing in on the breeze.

These days Erna’s garden is overgrown with tassel-topped grasses and dotted with sparse flowers. The shutters and gutters are slightly askew, and moss grows on the white clapboard. Sometimes I come to watch the weeping willow’s arms sweep across the pebble driveway, and to remember.

I knew Erna long before she knew me. From the woods where I lived I watched as she carried a basket on her hip to the clothesline. . . as she tilted her face toward the sun and closed her eyes. . . as she weeded the garden and gathered an armful of flowers for her table.

One afternoon I sauntered over to her as she was pegging out the laundry. “Oh!” she said, “Oh! Wait here.”

black and white cat ID-10029960

She came back with remnants of a pork chop and a small bowl of water. Each afternoon after that I visited her. She sat next to me on the patio as I ate, talking about anything that occurred to her. I think she was lonely.

Cold weather came early that year, and the wind bit through my fur. One day, as I waited for her on the patio, Erna held the door wide open. “Well, come in,” she said. I walked in and made myself at home.

By day I kept her company in the kitchen as she worked, her hands moving in and out of shafts of light, her shoulders soft and rounded. She hummed tunelessly to the soft, repeating clang of the wooden spoon against the mixing bowl.

By evening we sat by the fire in winter, and by the open window in summer. Erna worked with her hands, making afghans, quilts, and linen napkins, always in shades of green.

By night I slept on the window seat under the dormer, the stars glimmering overhead.

In time, Erna became ill. People came and went from the house. I slept curled by her feet, caring for her as I could. She passed away anyway. I watched them carry her from the house, but it wasn’t her.

A neighbor woman took me home with her. I’ve made my life there with her family, and it’s a good life. But sometimes I come here to Erna’s garden, to sense her, to feel our life together.

Compassion in Action:

If you see a stray cat, consider helping it by taking it in or taking it to a rescue.

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Jill’s Journey to a New Life

by Rob Hopf

Jill was a young dachshund mix we fostered.  She came from a kill shelter in the south.  In these harsh environments, dogs have only a small number of days before they are euthanized to make room for the never-ending tide of homeless pets pouring in.

We often don’t know specifically what these dogs have endured, but they tell us about it through their actions and their fears.  We could tell Jill had had a hard life.  When she came to us, she didn’t want to be touched, and hid behind the furniture.

Her tail was gnarled from being chewed.  She would chase it for long periods of time, spinning in circles, a sign of trauma likely stemming from neglect.  Sometimes she would catch her tail and chew it, inflicting self harm.

We coaxed her out from her hiding place, and brought her out with us to show her some affection.  She shrank from us at every touch, not believing we would be kind to her.

Finally it was time for bed the first night.  Our dogs always sleep with us, so we brought Jill up to bed with us.  We got in bed and placed her between us.  Our dogs took their places curled up at our feet.  We patted Jill and invited her to lay down and settle in for the night.  Suddenly a look of astonishment came over her face, like a bolt of lightning.  She looked at me, then my wife, then back to me.  All at once it hit her: she was going to sleep with us, snuggling in the warmth and safety of our bed.  Like Family!  She was instantly elated, leaping back and forth between us, licking us with gracious kisses, wagging her stubby little tail as fast as she could..  She couldn’t believe it – she was going to be loved!  After a prolonged outpouring of appreciation, she finally settled in and had what may have been the most restful night of sleep she ever had.

After that, she was different, not fearing us or hiding.  She became playful and loving.

Before long, she was adopted into a loving family.  We wished her well as she headed off to her new life.  This was not the last we saw of her, however.  We did dogsit her for a week when her family went on vacation.  Her family had gotten her help for her lingering anxiety.  She was on medication which helped alleviate her trauma.

Many foster dogs have experienced hardship, but few have such a sudden epiphany as Jill did.  Instead, it usually dawns on them slowly over days or weeks that their lives have changed for the better, and they can rely on people to be kind to them.  Because of this, the one thing they all have in common is a profound gratitude for being rescued.  Even though they don’t understand the complex financial, legal, and medical issues surrounding their larger circumstances in society, they do understand very clearly that they’ve been rescued from a terrible fate.  And they are eternally grateful for that.