Patches

Rick Ryckeley's picture

By midnight the last glass was finally placed in the dishwasher and all the wrapping paper thrown away. The excitement of Christmas had been replaced by a whole-body weariness that only comes from the holidays. Entertaining of family and little ones are extremely rewarding, but also extremely draining.
With pj’s on and all the lights off, it was time for a long overdue appointment with bed. A good night sleep was definitely in order.

But such was not to be the case at our house. Sleep would be elusive, and peacefulness would not be found that night or any night since.
She was coming – and our lives were about to be changed forever.
The origin of the noise that awoke us that night didn’t have its origin from the winter rainstorm raging outside. Nor was it from bare limbs raking across our windowpanes like bony fingers.

In fact, it didn’t come from outside at all. The sound emanated from our black cat. Something had frightened her, and she was sounding a warning.
A stranger was lurking right outside our front door.
Armed with a bat, I bumped and tripped my way through the darkness to the front windows, carefully pulled drapes back, and peered out. What I saw disarmed me completely. There, on our front porch, she stood shivering. Wet from head to foot, hair matted by the rain, she turned and looked over at me. Her penetrating gaze went straight through to my heart, and I simply knew. No matter what the cost, we had to help.

The Wife and I opened the door and assured her it was safe to come inside. We took her in, dried her off, and watched as she ate hungrily. As if it was her first good meal in weeks. She only paused long enough to look up at us with big yellow eyes full of thankfulness. The baby kitten was a stray.
After eating and drinking her fill, the little kitten curled up on our front porch and purred herself to sleep on top of a makeshift bed of towels. Her coat, a patchwork of orange, brown, and white made her name obvious to us. That night after Christmas we welcomed Patches into our family.

Patches remains an outdoor cat; sometimes she even brings friends back with her — A big orange long-haired we call Marmalade and a short-haired gray called Cinder.
We set out food and water for all and watch with delight with Little One as they eat. Even though she’s only 7 months old, it’s not too young for Little One to learn about kindness and the rewards of being charitable can bring.

Patches comes and goes at will, but she no longer has to wander around during the night in the rain. There is a dry place to call home. No longer is she cold. The Wife bought a bed and placed it on our front porch where Patches now sleeps.

Hunger for her is now a thing of the past. As long as Patches comes by, we will feed her. Unfortunately, such is not the same for the many others left out there in the cold to fend for themselves.
This year above all others, The Wife and I urge you to take in and give comfort to a stray. Whether they come in the four-legged variety or just two.
[Rick Ryckeley, who lives in Senoia, served as a firefighter for more than two decades and has been a weekly columnist since 2001. His email is storiesbyrick@gmail.com. His books are available at www.RickRyckeley.com.]

ginga1414
ginga1414's picture
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Joined: 09/01/2008
The Strays

God bless all the strays and those who take them in.

My daughter took in one cold, dirty, very pregnant, stray Basset mix last year. Within 3 days of finding a home with my daughter, six grandchildren, 2 granddogs, 3 grandcats, 1 grand house rabbit, and 1 grand guinea pig, Miss Mollie (grandkids named her) added 7 pups to the grand total.

And, now I have one of Miss Mollie's babies at my house. My grandchildren said that I needed the runt of litter. Little runt wouldn't eat and the grandchildren had to feed her with a bottle. The kids named the little one "Tiny Tina." "Tiny Tina" is now "Sophie Mae" and she weighs 51 pounds.

Last night as I was trying to brush Sophie's teeth, she bit the brush end off her toothbrush and swallowed it. Scared me out of my wits! I called the Emergency Vet, but couldn't get through. So, I sat up with Sophie all night expecting her to throw-up her toothbrush. That didn't happen.

This morning, I called my regular Vet. She said to feed Sophie pumpkin, and watch for the toothbrush to go on through. Sophie absolutely won't eat pumpkin. However, she will eat pumpkin pie mix. She has been eating pumpkin pie mix all day, but we haven't seen the toothbrush come through, yet.

My daughter found homes for 4 of the pups, and she found Miss Mollie's owner. Come to find out that the father of Mollie's pups is an Alaskan Malamute. My daughter wasn't very happy with Mollie's owner because when he showed up on her doorstep, he said that he had come for his dog but that he didn't want the pups. It just so happens that by that time my daughter had already taken Miss Mollie to her vet and relieved Mollie of the burden of ever having to find shelter to deliver another litter. Mollie's owner wasn't pleased with my daughter because he wanted Mollie to have another litter. Too bad.

My daughter wasn't able to find homes for all of Mollie's children, so now she has 6 human children, 5 dogs (4 of which were strays), 3 cats (all strays), 2 house rabbits (they were also strays) and 1 guinea pig. Yes, there are even stray pet rabbits in the world.

We are still waiting for Sophie's toothbrush to come through, but while we wait Sophie is asleep, curled up next to me on the sofa. She will never have to wonder who will take her in. She will never have to find a safe, warm place to have a litter of pups. Sophie and her litter mates are all loved. On this bitterly cold winter night in 2014, I just hope her Mama (Miss Mollie) is just as warm and loved as Sophie.

God bless all the strays, and God bless all the folks who take them in.