This past week I've been in western NY, visiting my mom and helping her do some chores around the house. While I was dry-locking her basement, she was putting her stellar sewing skills into action to make me some louvers for my new strip light. A simple trading of skill sets for each other's mutual benefit.
Each morning I woke around 5 a.m., anticipating the alarm at 6, at which time I would roll out of the sack and head off into the morning twilight to photograph the nearby wind towers at dawn. It was one of those mornings when I heard what sounded like a kitten meowing somewhere outside the bedroom window I had left open on a warm, November evening. I told myself, in my early morning stupor, that it was probably a cat bird, calling out it's territory during the pre-dawn hours. But something bothered me about the sound.
Later that morning, I was taking some things out back and on my way back to the house, I heard that same sound again. I looked up and saw a small, cinnamon and white, long haired kitten, sitting by a bush at the neighbor's house. It was obvious that it was a 'drop off' kitten. As I walked up towards it, I noted how tiny it was as it scooted under the front porch and out of reach.
On my way back into the house, I hatched my plan of action. I told my mom and she immediately exclaimed, "I'm not taking in a kitten!" Knowing that I'm an animal lover (every family has to have one, you know), she had to be on the defense right away. She's done a good job of being a 'grandma' to her children's dogs, but she's never had a hankering to actually own one. She decided at a young age that she'd be a mother to pets or children, but not both!
I negotiated for a can of tuna fish and some water and gingerly walked back to the last place I saw it, placing the feast on some back steps. After a short time in the basement, my mother, who seemed disinterested in the kitten, called down, "The kitten's eating the tuna!" Up the stairs I raced to watch, with my mother, out her bedroom window, this little wonder politely eating the tuna fish. When it finished, it looked up at me and meowed a few times. My next move was to talk to the owner of the house, when she returned from work at 4:30.
Around 4:00, mom and I decided to go get some provisions and off we went in her Saturn Vue. After driving about 1/2 mile, we hit town center and I heard that same, familiar meow coming from under the hood - even with the radio on. I know I had a look of horror on my face when I looked at mom and said, "stop the car! The kitten's in the engine!"
It just so happened that right around the corner was the main drag of Wayland. Stores, people and of course, someone we knew was walking by. I lifted up the hood and there was that same, sweet, cinnamon/white face, looking up at me from the area nearest the steering wheel. It had wedged itself in between the hood and some flat surface. I let the hood down again while I grabbed a small, rag rug that mom keeps in the back of her Vue. Jim, the innocent bystander, lifted the hood while I put the rug over the kitten. However, he wasn't about to cooperate. For God's sake, he'd just climbed to safety to get away from all those moving parts of the engine. He wasn't about to give up that easily!
As he tried to dive down into the engine, Jim thrust his hand in and came out with the kitten. End of story? Not a chance. We drove to a nearby Animal Hospital, hoping that they would take it in for the night and call the Humane Society in the morning. No such chance. So when I came back to the Vue with a box with holes in it, my mom was probably thinking, "why do these things happen when Peggy comes home?"
The plan was to bathe it, keep it warm overnight (me: upstairs in the kitchen; Mom: in the basement) and take it to the Humane Society in the morning. As we drove the 7 miles home, mom thought maybe my brother's sister-in-law would take it in. She had other cats, a dog or two, a horse and pot-bellied pig. It was worth a try.
We rolled into Pam's driveway right at dusk. Diner time for all the four-legged creatures that Pam cares for. Upon seeing the box I carried, with some strategically placed breathing holes, she said, "you have something alive in there, don't you?" When she guessed a kitten, her daughter Megan, a senior in high school said with excitement, "Mom, I was just talking about getting another kitten the other day!" At that moment, I knew the deal was sealed!
Pam picked the 8 week old kitten up and examined it like a doctor checking out a rash. Brushing the fur away from it's eyes, she was concerned about some drainage. There were other symptoms that might indicate Feline Leukemia, so he was kept separated from the other cats. I offered Pam some money for neutering and ran to the store to get some litter, flea spray and kitty food. Operation Kitty was a success!
Later, as I replayed the days events, I wondered if it was just chance or divine intervention that the kitten ended up in Mom's engine compartment. Was it luck that I have good hearing? What happened in that moment when the tuna-fed kitten looked up at me in the bedroom window and meowed? I'm putting my money on divine intervention.
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