When the boys first arrived in our home, to describe them as traumatized would be an understatement. They were ages twelve and nine at the time. The boys had been placed in a shelter by CPS (Children’s Protective Service) after being removed from their mother’s care. She was drug addicted and jobless. They had no permanent home and moved from place to place every few weeks. The boys had experienced hunger, deplorable living conditions, exposure to a criminal element, and left most of the time to fend for themselves. They both had an assortment of physical and emotional issues. By the time they joined our family, they were so emotionally confused, they didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Both boys wanted to be reunited with their mother. They missed her and were worried about her. Both feared she may be dead. She made no effort to contact them and they were devastated by her abandonment.
We prepared for the boys’ arrival. They would be sharing a bedroom. Our extra bedroom had been my terminally ill mother’s room until she passed away. It was in dire need of remodeling to make two little boys feel comfortable. The boys arrived with no toys and very few clothes; their shoes were worn and their heads had been shaved due to a lice infestation. Life was pretty gloomy for them at that point.
The first night I tucked them in and stayed awhile, trying to assure them life would get better. As I adjusted bed covers and tried my best to comfort two scared little boys, in sauntered two of our cats.
Gidget is our only female feline. She was rescued by my mother during one of our extreme Texas thunderstorms. Mom found her when she was just a few days old, very sick and not a likely candidate for a long and healthy existence. My mother rushed the kitten to the vet and with a great deal of nursing, she survived and is a healthy cat. I inherited Gidget when my mom passed away. She is a calico with a sweet face and quiet disposition. Gidget has issues of her own, she suffers from “lack of litter-itis”. Being spayed at a very early age, she never had kittens and displays frustrated mom tendencies by grooming and pretend nursing the other cats (we have five more). Gidget is also quite plump.
Thomas was sixteen years old when the boys arrived. He is a stately gentleman and very seldom gets his nose out of joint about anything, a trait he developed with age. Thomas is very thin. He has an excellent appetite, but appears to be almost emaciated due to extra long legs and thin bone structure. Thomas was a rescue from East Texas; Paul and I drove two hundred and sixty miles round trip to claim the orange tabby and his buddy Mickey, our twelve year old Siamese male. Their owner was moving and planned to have them euthenized. My sister and the vet’s assistant network regularly and are the self appointed animal rescue team in that area. We were on the list of adoptive homes.
After putting the boys to bed, Gidget and Thomas decided to investigate the new humans inhabiting their home. The other four cats wanted nothing to do with these strangers, but Thomas and Gidget let curiosity overcome any trepidation they might have for these strange newcomers. The next morning I found Gidget nestled in Daniel’s arms and Thomas curled around Randy’s shaved head. All four looked content. Sleeping with the boys became a ritual. If the cats weren’t already in the room at bedtime, the boys would seek them out and bring their feline friends to bed with them. They gave the cats different names that described each one’s appearance. Gidget was nicknamed the Watermelon Cat because she is so fat. They called Thomas Mr. Bones due to his thin appearance.
I look back now and realize our two cats contributed a lot to my boys’ recovery. The Watermelon Cat and Mr. Bones gave them acceptance into their home, warmth and comfort in the dark when fears can be magnified, and the reassurance of unconditional love.
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