I have been practicing my photography all afternoon. Itching for a Canon camera when I can't even begin to afford one. Itching to write. But not finding words coming through my fingers naturally like it normally does.
I lay on my stomach with a cheap camera in my hands. Mr. Jinxy walks up to me, chattering in his language, then plops his large frame in front of me. His left ear twitch as he hears my camera making noises as it changed its adjustments for me to take a good picture of him.
It brings us back to the day when Stu and I arrive into Humane Society's feline room. I find myself straying away from Stu as I scan the room for a potential cat. Remember, I want a female cat, I gently tell Stu, and he nods his head. A few minutes later, I see Stu kneeling in front of a large box, and he reaches inside the box. Then his eyes widens. Come here! Look at this cat! He's huge! I bend down next to him. Inside the box, a pair of yellow eyes glares at us, and he wheezes softly. At this very moment, I know that we will end up getting not one, but two cats. Little does he know that Missy Girl, Stu and I will become his family.
King learns that his name has been changed to Beau Jinxy. He hears Stu telling him Jinxy, Jinxy, and Jinxy. He twitches his ears, unsure if it is his name, and hides behind the sofa. Every morning and evening; Jinxy gets picked up into my arms and swallows nasty medication that he does not like. This is where I insert the quote from Shawshank Redemption, "Red: [narrating] I wish I could tell you that Andy fought the good fight, and the Sisters let him be. I wish I could tell you that - but prison is no fairy-tale world." It is how probably Jinxy feels every time when I forcibly insert medication down his throat, and bring him to vet clinic to be propped by his doctor. Nonetheless, Jinxy begins to get better. It becomes easier for him to to breathe. He finds himself having more energy to get up and walk around. But he continue to hide under the bed or behind the sofa; afraid of new enviornment, afraid of his companion, Missy, afraid of his new parents, and afraid of every noise he hears.
However, he comes to only trusts Stu because Stu is the one who does not give him the icky medicine and brings him to vet clinic for awful check-ups. Jinxy continues to be wary of Missy, an imp kitty, and me. Jinxy keeps his distance from us girls for good six months. But one day, he decides to change this.
On one momentous day, he strolls into the office, where I am working, and sits nearby. He listens to me type, type, type, and type. Then he decides to come up and say hello. He notices that I pay him no attention when he meows. Frustrated, he meows again, and only to get no response from me. He intensely watches me. He moves closer to my chair, reaches his arm and taps his paw against my crossed legs. It is when I finally notice him. I wave him to come up. Jinxy stares at my fluttering hands; He twitches his ears, and yawns. I turn back to the computer after getting no response from the cat. Mr. Jinxy tenses up his haunches then leaps up on my lap and settles into a ball. Soon, it becomes our little ritual. Every time when I work in the office, Jinxy comes in and rest on my lap. He decides I am not that bad after all even though Missy Girl likes to bug him if he comes around near me.
After two years from Jinxy's adoption from Humane Society; Jinxy has grown into a wonderful loving cat, and continues to comes out of his shell. From time to time, I still find him hiding under the bed covers when life proves to be too overwhelming or scary for him to handle, and I smile and leave him be. Jinxy loves to keep me a company when I clean, work on the computer, and chat with my good friends on the phone. He keeps my feet warm--he has a thing for feet (one of his quirks). He has mannerism of a British old man and tolerates Missy's crazy tactics to befriend him. Jinxy also tolerates my endless kisses on top of his furry head. Every time when Stu and I come home; he comes sauntering up to us with his tail straight up in the air, and he meows to greet us. Every time when I take out a camera; he runs up to me and plops in front of me ready to be my subject. He finds his most favorite spot to be sitting next to me and Stu on the sofa during our movie nights. Sometimes, he even allows Missy Girl snuggle with him. He brights up my bad days. He makes my good days even happier.
He seems to know that he is living a good life. He knows that he won't ever have to go back to a deplorable place, to be abandoned, or surrendered by a family he loves. He knows that he has a permanent home with us. And he is grateful for this.
You may disagree with what I just typed and think that animals don't have feelings or thoughts. But let me tell you this, once you adopt a pet from a shelter or street or mill or any less than ideal living conditions and you see such a growth in your pet's demeanor. You see the personality come out. You see your pet to be happier and feel secure in your home. It is when you start to see gratitude in your pet. You don't see that in your bred and bought pets. Not that they are not as wonderful, and loving as shelter pets are.
It is just that you know that a rescued pet knows when he or she is home for good. All of your patience, time, love and money spent is worth it.
I certainly know it is worth our time, patience and money to get Jinxy to this place where he is today.
|Do adopt/rescue a pet when you have an opportunity and means|
to support a pet.