Little One

"She's a real good cat, loves to play!"

I was kneeling, my body inches from the concrete, looking up at her as I tried my best to operate an air compressor. Jenny was leaving for St. Louis and we were filling her tires with air, preoccupied with PSI numbers and the man who tried to come to our rescue but knew less about tire pressure than I did.

"Oh...where'd you find her?" I keep filling the tire. 30 PSI to go.

"I didn't find her, I had her since she was born. But I can't keep her no more..."

And we're at a gas station, no less. I forget about the tire and stand up, crossing the six foot gap between us. A half second later I'm standing with a gray fur ball in my hands. Not sure how that happened, but somehow I knew it was already too late.

"I have to leave her here, can't take her with me. You want her?" the lady mumbles.

"Um, ok, well...I guess I can take her. I mean, I want her, sure."

She was already in my arms, and the lady was already driving away in her car, waving at me.

Well hey, little one. That's what David always called Daisy. You're mine now. 

Jenny and I looked at each other in mild shock. "What is my life, Jenny? Do I have a kitten??"

"Well yeah I guess you do."

We looked at each other and laughed in disbelief and I realized the person I was 10 days ago would never have rescued a kitten. I realized this little feathery ball was making my heart overflow with something other than devastation, and I couldn't say no to that. No amount of Jordan-esque practicality and realism could make me say no to that.

We walked back home, kitten and me, and I held her tight because she was afraid of the noise the cars made around us. It's ok, baby. You really are safe. We're almost home.

I finished packing for Thanksgiving and put her in a laundry basket for the ride to dad's house. Somewhere between Portland and 21st I realized laundry baskets weren't her thing. She crawled her little way onto my lap and I just held her in one arm as I drove. She purred and nestled, looking up at me every time I talked to her.

Did someone leave you, baby? Did someone not want you?

She crawled higher onto my chest and nuzzled my face and was more content to stay there than any kitten I've ever seen. Sometimes people don't want me either, baby. There's someone who doesn't want me. But you're a precious girl.

One car ride, one bath, and the help of two brothers later, kitten is settling into dad's house for the week, until I take her back home with me to the city. Until then, I'm thinking of a name for her that encompasses all she is, which is really all that I am.

Found and rescued and wanted and renamed. A living, breathing baby thing with hope and grace and redemption inside it. Small and scraggly, but not beyond repair.

I'm so, so glad she found me.




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