From left: Rose and Jack. Jack was highly strung, making shrill sounds all the time, and he could be a bully to his sister during their meals as well. This photo portrays him just right LOL
On a Sunday morning in 2002, my husband, Andy, and I awoke in our rented apartment in the Athens suburbs after a thunderstorm that had raged all night. It caused a great downpour.
Our small neighborhood seemed sleepy that early morning. No one was about on the street below and hardly any cars passed by. Maybe, that was the reason why the odd, loud cries we suddenly heard from the sodden field adjacent to our building were so easily carried in the air, reaching our appartment on the second floor.
Intrigued, we got out onto the balcony and quickly deciphered that the persistent cries of distress were cat sounds made by kittens. They seemed too frail to be made by adult cats.
Being a cat lover since childhood, I felt I had no other choice. In a flash, I was dressed and hurrying down to the ground floor, then making a beeline for the field.
Trudging through wet, tall grass, trying to locate the kittens on a cool early morning of late winter was not exactly pleasant, but at least, I didn’t have to look for long.
I found two ginger kittens curled up together on the soggy, muddy ground, their mouths gaping open as they screamed cries of help. Their mother was nowhere to be seen, so I had no choice but to take them home with me.
I will never forget the look on their faces the moment their wet, exhausted little bodies came into contact with warm water.
When I placed them in my hands belly-up, one at a time, and immersed them in the water slowly to give them a bath, their faces opened like a flower. It was a sudden release–from their ordeal, from their tension, from their angst. As I bathed them, they kept still and quiet, all four legs stretched out, paws up in the air. And with their eyes half-closed, they seemed ready to fall asleep.
All sorts of dirt and plant debris–and even one dead fly, as I recall–came off their fur to be released into the water. In no time, they were like two fluffy balls that smelled sweetly, drying in a thick towel.
Feeding them afterwards was entertaining to watch. Let’s just say that the kittens–one male, one female–lapped up milk and ate tuna like they’d never drunk or eaten anything before. They were famished. The male one kept hissing when his sister tried to eat anywhere near him and acted all crazy, making us laugh. He insisted on stepping on the saucer, to make sure he was closest to the food. We had to intervene to allow his sister to eat some of the sustenance.
When they later fell asleep on a rug before the window pane, my heart melted. As I watched them sleep, now all clean, well-fed and blissful, the sunshine falling on their bodies, their rounded tummies rhythmically rising and falling, I fell in love.
But, alas, the landlady did not allow pets in the building. So, even though we loved having them around for a few days–under our landlady’s nose–we knew we couldn’t keep them. We began to ask around, trying to find them homes, and we gave them names too…
At the time, James Cameron’s movie “Titanic” was quite recent, and a favorite of ours. So, we named the kittens Jack and Rose. We’d found them soggy to the bone, after all–much like the characters in the movie had to be once they got in the water 😛
Thankfully, a lady I knew from childhood–a widowed octagenarian at the time–expressed the wish to take both the kittens off our hands. She had a garden, and her little grandchildren visited often. She said the kittens would keep her company, and the kids would love having them around during their visits, too.
So, that was what we did. We let the nice old lady I knew all my life take our darling kittens off our hands. And we didn’t regret it. But did I forget Jack and Rose? Nuh-uh.
In case you’re wondering how a writer’s mind works to find inspiration, here’s the truth: A writer’s mind is like a cauldron, where everything they ever see, hear and feel ends up. All the deep joys and pains of life get in there too, and everything gets nicely stirred up together, making all possible combinations.
Oftentimes, these things mix over the years in a way that the writer can no longer tell if something was really all that joyful or all that painful, after all. And, each time they seek inspiration, a writer will dip a finger in the cauldron to have a little taste. Sometimes, they will dip a whole ladle in the ‘soup’. More often than not, they are astonished by what comes out. Fiction writing, when done right, can never be a conscious process. It takes you by surprise. Every time.
Such was the case when I was inspired one day to write a Christian short story about a recently widowed mother and her little girl, who struggled to learn how to live with their devastating loss. Before I knew it, I was giving them two angels of mercy, in the form of two kittens, and writing about Jack and Rose, whom they found in a sodden field after a deluse.
As I said, you use a ladle… and you never know what’s going to be caught up in it. And so it happened this time, but in the story, the ending is different. This is fiction, after all.
Today, I’m pleased to present my short story, Kitty Heaven, which is on preorder on Amazon at $0.99.
The launch date is May 18.
If you enjoy cute pet stories, or family tales about faith and finding joy after loss, you’re bound to love it. It has a paranormal twist, which is portrayed from a Christian perspective.
NEW! $0.99 on preorder!
A Christian short story about an orphan girl, her widowed mother, and two rescued kittens. Pet fiction with a paranormal twist and a perfect, happy ending.
A widowed mother and her little girl rescue two kittens. Or is it the other way round?
Liza, a recently widowed mother, is finding it hard to cope after the loss of her husband, and to raise their little daughter, Myrto, on her own. After a thunderstorm that rages overnight, mother and daughter wake up in their rented apartment to hear desperate crying coming from a field below their balcony. And, just like that, they become the eager saviours of two small kittens, but the owner of the building does not allow pets.
Is there a way they can keep them, since they seem to inject into their lives joy and laughter–the very things they have been so deprived of after their devastating loss? As for their loving husband and father, he seems to have a plan, and he sets it in motion from behind the veil…
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