They say there is something special about a
rescue animal. They know adversity. They know brutality and pain (unfortunately). They know neglect and the human race’s emotional bankruptcy.
And they know – eventually – when they’ve been saved.
Sasha is a special cat who has moved on from her rootless beginnings to help save someone else.
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Sasha suffered severe neglect until I rescued her when she was about 6-7 months old, and to this day it shows in her quiet little personality. I call her my little “teeny one” because she is tinier than tiny. She’s teeny. She is all fur. Even her meow is teeny. But her spirit is soaring and bigger than a lot of humans’ I know. (I, however, like most animals better than I like most people).
Sasha grew up with me in a
college town in a house full of five girls, on a friendly neighborhood street. She would sit in the windowsill (going in and out at her own free will since I took the screen out for her) for hours and have conversations with the birds, squirrels or whatever else was alive, in front of her, and smaller than her. She always butt in when any of the roommates was eating anything, and I mean anything: yogurt, goldfish crackers, potato chips, fast food sandwiches (lettuce and all), macaroni-n-cheese, egg salad, tacos, chicken paprikash, and of course, ice cream.
Since she and my other cat are outdoor cats, obviously they spent many sunny Colorado days hanging out in my yard and the neighbor’s yards. My next door neighbor took quite a liking to them and used to leave food and milk out for them constantly (even when I asked her to stop). I would come home and pull in the driveway and see my two cats standing on the hood of her truck livin’ it up with wet food and milk. It drove me NUTS.
One time Sasha was catnapped. It was two days before Halloween and Sasha is black-as-night over her ENTIRE body – pads, feet, belly, ears, everywhere. And she has green eyes, so she is some psycho-nut’s Halloween dream. I was an absolute disaster for three days. I had signs posted by the second day and went to every neighbor’s house up and down the street and across the creek (even though there was no possible way she could have crossed it) every day. Finally, the day after Halloween my roommate was outside smoking when she heard really loud meowing. She followed the sound and started calling Sasha’s name. Sasha kept answering her and finally my roomie was just two houses down the street.
These idiot guy neighbors stole Sasha for the reward money. My roomie literally busted in there and stole her back and said they would be lucky if we didn’t call the cops on them. Of course, I’m sure Sasha sauntered over there looking for some lovin’, or chasing a bird or something, and probably ended up sleeping on their porch, and probably gave them the sweetness when they came home from class, and that bore a beautiful friendship. Years later I still wonder what really happened… I was beginning to realize that Sasha gets around quite a bit.
She also has an affinity for getting herself locked in people’s garages. She goes in there to nose around and ends up getting locked in. I racked my brain and drove around our entire neighborhood in
California one night looking for her. I was terrified a coyote would get her, and finally I heard her meowing through a garage door. I had to wake the family up at 10:30 at night to get my cat out of their garage; God was that embarrassing.
When we first moved to
Ohio in the summer of 2006 my cats were delighted. Quite a change from the aridity of
southern California, they were suddenly back in lush green surroundings with tons of trees, grass, birds, squirrels, bunnies, field mice, and other rodents. They were constantly outside. As was custom, they both started wandering to make friends in the neighborhood (and find helpless creatures to chase). Theodore (my 14-pound Maine Coon Tabby mix) was known for ridding the neighbors of pesky moles and chipmunks (a favorite of both cats). He is a mouse’s worst nightmare and reminds me of the mean old cat in The Secret of Nimb.
Anyhow, as they both made friends in the neighborhood, Sasha became particularly smitten with the neighbor two houses down. Her name is Laura and she is sweet as sugar.
Sasha started coming around their house when Laura first came out of
remission. She had been sick for years with what started as
breast cancer. The Dr.’s told her she wouldn’t survive. Laura was very sick from chemotherapy in the summer of 2006 when Sasha started visiting, and Sasha was constantly at Laura’s throughout the summer and fall.
It started with Sasha hanging out on their back porch catching birds and chasing anything else with four legs. It then proceeded to the neighbors stopping by and telling us how Sasha lounges around on their back porch furniture all day long in the sunshine and cool breeze. Then she stared meowing to come in their house. Never to turn down a sweet and innocent face, Laura started letting her in and it was love at first cuddle.
At some point Sasha got chased by a rather large
Great Dane who was visiting the house behind us and she stayed inside for the winter and then through the spring of 2007. When she finally started going outside again – late spring – it was straight back to Laura’s. It was like she went outside and immediately ran over there.
Something was wrong and Sasha knew it.
She was constantly standing at our door meowing to go out. She would zoom over to Laura’s as soon as the door opened for her in the morning, and stay over there all day until we went to get her at night or Laura’s husband brought her home.
At first I was hurt that Sasha wanted to spend so much time with Laura. I felt like she was abandoning her home, and more importantly, me and my Mom. We always joke that over at Laura’s Sasha has a silk pillow with satin lining and an “S” engraved on it. This is surrounded by a personal fan, a porcelain dish consistently filled to the brim with crème, and an entire corner of the couch. And I wouldn’t be surprised if this is true. One of the many times I went over to Laura’s to get my cat after her curfew I noticed little play mice scattered around the foyer. Hmmn. And I know for a fact there are kitty treats – the good kind — over there. And I know Laura has given her whatever the family has for dinner because she tells us that Sasha meows for food and she can’t resist her sweet little ways.
Laura was in such bad shape at this point that her son came home from college to help his father. The chemo was totally wrecking her body and for quite awhile we didn’t see her outside in the yard gardening orenjoying the spring weather.
When she finally did appear in the mid-summer she wandered over to our house. Practically in tears she told my mom and I that she didn’t know what she would do without Sasha. She told us how Sasha would comfort her and help lower her blood pressure. Sasha would lie on her (or next to her) for hours to keep her company. Sasha was the only thing that made her happy and gave her hope. She always had the energy to snuggle Sasha no matter how tired she was.
We offered to help Laura find a rescue cat to keep. She said she wouldn’t be able to do it because she would never want to leave the cat. We asked her where she was going and she trailed off, “I don’t know how long I’ll be…” She kept repeating how Sasha is her savior and how enamored with her she is.
My Mom and I were almost in tears after that. We realized just how much Sasha meant to this sweet lady. We started letting her stay there day in and day out, bringing Sasha home only at night time to sleep with me. Sasha was growing increasingly depressed at our house and would come in and eat, meow for two hours to go back out, and then settle down in my bed right next to my head for the night. First thing in the morning it was back to the door to go outside.
We discovered in the fall of 2007 that Laura’s parents, old and feeble (and adorable) had moved into Laura’s house to be with her on an “extended visit.” Not one to pry, I suspected this meant that Laura had taken a turn for the worse. Sasha immediately fell in love with these old folks as well.
This reminds me that there is something to be said for pets used in therapy. The Grandpa, forgetful and a little slow, tells tales of Sasha lying on his belly for hours and helping him rest from worry. She is the ray of sunshine in everyone’s day in that whole house. She cheers them all up, wandering from room to room throughout the day bringing her sweet sense of sympathy with her. Even Laura’s son is in love with Sasha. He holds her and plays with her and feeds her just like the rest of them. (The Grandpa especially likes to give Sasha some of whatever he happens to be eating.)
Laura has her good days and her bad days. The family was blessed enough that Laura’s cancer again went into remission. It was a tumultuous struggle for her and her family, and she has said that Sasha helped her through it and is still very therapeutic.
It’s no wonder that so many
animals are used in therapy. It’s comforting to know that Sasha, one of Heaven’s angels according to me and everyone who meets her, is there to comfort someone through the worst possible circumstance that life can hand out.
No one knows what will happen with Laura. All we have is hope: the same hope that little Sasha had before she got rescued. The same hope that she brings to Laura’s family. And most importantly, the same hope that she brings to Laura.
All that in one teeny cat.
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Loading ...FRANKLIN, Mass. - Diana Bardsley wiped tears from her eyes as she recalled taking food off her plate to feed her beloved spaniel Hunter and two Siamese cats.
