| October's Story at | ||||||||
|
|
|
|||||||
|
The five kittens were all boys. Three days after their birth at the nursery where I worked, I found their mother, hit by a car and dead on the side of the highway. We knew that she had had a litter, but didn't know where they were. We though they might be hidden in one of the greenhouses, but the mother had moved them to a hole in the roof of the house next door. One of them cried, and gave away their position. They were all taken from the roof hole and placed in a box. Since I had the most experience with animals, I was allowed to take them home. I nursed them, bathed them, played with them, and broke up squabbles. To them, I was "mother." A short in the wiring of the new stove caused the house fire. I was sleeping on the couch with my blanket of kittens, and felt pressure building on my neck to the point that I woke. Tai had his arms around my neck, and as I disengaged him, I noticed the kitchen light was on, and figured that it was my mother, who sometimes stayed up with insomnia. I went back to sleep. Later, it became hard for me to breathe. I woke again, this time to find Tai's arms around my neck in a very tight grip, and his head pushed into my throat so hard it hindered my breathing. I pulled him off of my neck, noticing again the flickering kitchen light where my mother was no doubt working. I was almost back to sleep when the realization jarred me awake…kitchen lights don't flicker. I looked into the kitchen and saw flames licking the ceiling. I screamed, "Fire," to get everyone up, and went into the kitchen to find that the heat had set the kitchen cabinets on the other side of the room ablaze, as well. There was an acrid, lung-burning stench, as plastic bottle caps and other plastics in the cabinets caught fire, along with their contents. A dark cloud of smoke hung from the ceiling, forcing us to bend slightly to stay under it. My father, who had had fire-fighting training in the Navy, got the hose and sprayed the kitchen and went up into the attic to put out the rest of the fire. While he was doing this, I was trying to get the kittens out of the house. I could get them out, but every time I went back in, they came in with me…some on me, clinging to my clothing. They would latch on as soon as I got them off. It was pointless, I had to stay outside, or they would go inside and die. If Tai hadn't forced me to wake up, we would all have been overcome by smoke inhalation long before the fire got to us. Of all of the kittens, Tai was closest to me. A lithe tiger kitten with a loping gait, he would come, wide-eyed with expectation, when called. I never called "kitty, kitty, kitty...." I always called him by name and asked him to, "Come here." I spoke to him as though he understood everything that I said. Tai was "different." Occasionally, he would "talk" to me. His lips would move strangely, and he produced sounds that were strange, as though he were trying to form words. Fortunately, we generally understood each other. After I got married, I brought Tai to the new home with me. He was like a son to me, and when I was pregnant, I thought that Tai would be more like the baby's older brother than a cat. He was never treated as a pet…he was family…he was my son. One day, as I was working in the bedroom, Tai came to the bedroom door and "talked" to me and looked back down the hall. I asked him what he needed, and he took a few steps and waited. I came out and asked him again what he needed, and he "talked" to me again before heading for the kitchen patio sliding glass doors. There, he stopped and looked out. I didn't see anything. I asked him what he saw out there, and he looked at me and then pointedly gazed at something off to his left while "talking." Squatting down…not easy while seven months pregnant…I looked in the direction that he was looking, and then I saw it. Fire. The grass of one of the houses that bordered our back fence was ablaze, and the fire was slowly creeping towards our yard. I ran to the neighbour's, an elderly couple, and when the man opened the door, I asked if he had a hose. He said that he had one out back, so I ran into his backyard and looked for the hose. Grabbing it, I turned it on. He came out the back door and wanted to know what I was doing. I pointed to the fire. It had spread to his next-door neighbor's lot but I finally put it all out. I looked over and saw Tai sitting in the kitchen watching me through the patio doors. Twice, he had saved me from fire. It was the residue tapped out of the old man's pipe onto drought-dry grass that had caused this fire. Tai was a good "son," and a good "brother" to my two natural sons. He made them laugh; he watched over them, and he played with them. My heart was broken the night that he died. It was like losing a child, which, to me, he was. I was his mother. If it hadn't been for Tai, I would not be here, now…consequently, neither would my sons. Tai was loving, kind, a good listener, funny, gentle and courageous. What more could a mother want from her child? Many of my slides have faded with age but Tai will always live in my heart. Written by: Cynthia Syrus Florida, USA Cynthia chose to donate her $10 winnings to the House Rabbit Society, which Willa's Ark matched. All stories are property of the author and can not be reproduced without the author's express permission. Read February's, March's, April's, May's, or July's Story! | ||||||||
| Home | Cats | Dogs | Buns | Squirrels | Opossums | Fish | Products | Contact Us |