As I'm writing this story, Penny the Calico is draped over my right arm, watching my fingers fly across the keyboard. She's fascinated and I'm impressed by the accuracy of my typing!
She used to belong to a family. When I met her, she was the sole "baby" of the household. The couple who shared her two bedroom, 2nd-floor apartment was military. Their shifts varied, sometimes both gone at the same time and that's when my phone rang.
Penny taught me that cats could be trusted walking the balcony railing. She taught me to leave the bathroom tap dripping because she preferred fresh water. She taught me to read the canned cat food label and if it didn't say "fish", not to open it.
Her family grew and my clients welcomed a daughter into their "purrfect" home. There were perks that came with babies! Penny had more toys to play with. Her owners were considerate of her bouts of jealousy. Every time I came, the cat toy box had multiplied and there were new baskets of catnip mouses and plastic noise balls. Tufts of feathers, at the ends of fishing poles, swayed when the patio door opened-welcoming the enticing ocean breeze.
On an ordinary day, their number appeared on the voicemail icon of my cell phone. I checked my schedule for the next six weeks and dialed. With pencil in hand and calendar open, the voice on the other end of the phone was panic-stricken. She blurted, "Ms. Laura, Help! Penny attacked the baby, my husband said, "Get rid of her!" I don't want to take her to the pound. Please come and tell me what to do. I will have her carrier and food ready. How soon can you get here?"
My heart sank, my lunch came back up and lodged in my throat. I was there in just minutes and she greeted me with tears streaming. Penny was in the carrier, wild-eyed and voicing a terrified meow.
There was no screaming baby, no opened first aid kit. Their little girl was playing in her crib.
Penny was declawed...how does a declawed cat "attack", I wondered? The tension of the moment
did not allow time for my questions. I had been summoned and was expected to resolve the crisis. Her husband was not there, so I don't know anything beyond what happened next.
"I'll give her a home", I said in as reassuring a voice as I could manage. Don't worry, she's not going to the shelter or a foster home. She's coming with me. We hugged, I picked up the carrier, grabbed the grocery bag of food, treats, toys and the remaining box of litter.
In minutes, we were home. My dogs were interested in their new playmate and the calmness of my home was replaced by happy chaos for days afterward.
I received a holiday card with a photo of the three people family members and a return address. I didn't keep it. I felt differently about them. I felt differently about me.
I don't question the universal wisdom. It was meant to be and Ms. Penny stretching, extends her paw to embrace my neck in a hug that says it all.
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