Four Rescue Kitties

Four kitties, all black: one hard-of-hearing, another with only one eye, a skittish third with a damaged tail that forms a question mark and, last but not the slightest bit least, the smallest who amiably head-butts your leg. All rescues—like me, a human rescue in-between residences, taken in by a sympathetic friend. Sheltered, fed, watched over, we inhabit mutual spaces, loved and safe from threat of harm.

Exhausted, my brain turned Jello is resistant to decision-making. I’m more tired than I anticipated from what turned into a 3-day undertaking in 100° temperatures, moving belongings and furniture and backyard items from my duplex to my daughter’s vacated house a half mile away. Only, I can’t live there yet because of extensive repairs needed in the bathroom.

So here I am, one county over, thankfully bedding down on a queen-size air mattress, house plants and two little fish tanks in tow while solutions are pursued in my next-to-be home—time of completion uncertain. My friend is also in the throes of moving. There are packing boxes and supplies everywhere, stacked against walls, some lined up half-filled, others flattened, offering inviting sleeping spaces for a kitty or two. Next month she’ll move out-of-state. In the meantime, we share disrupted space—my eyes constantly reminding me of my own unsettledness. Grateful for temporary sanctuary, I struggle against a lingering disquiet invading my heart: my belongings are moved but not fully unpacked and I cannot nest.

Sheepishly, I remind myself that I am more fortunate than many: those who lost everything in a wildfire; the homeless whose meager belongings are bulldozed by municipal decree; rounded-up immigrants swept away from home without warning or recourse. However, I will not scold myself for my distress, my seemingly unavoidable anxiousness. Like the parable of the lion with a thorn in its paw, even the smallest pebble in one’s shoe hurts. Instead, I will pass the days resolutely conscious of every simple gift available to me: the fresh morning air, birdsong, my friend’s comforting voice and, of course, the mewing and purring of four black kitties.