The Cat and the Mouse

When I was about seven years old, I was shopping with my mom at a local Hallmark store. She was picking out birthday cards, and I was checking out the stuffed animals. I certainly had no shortage of stuffed animals at home, but loved just looking at the ones in the store.

When my mom was done shopping, she came over to the aisle to retrieve me and found me holding a little grey mouse. It was one of the smaller animals in the bunch and definitely not the cutest. But, I shared with her how I must have that mouse. I just had to take it home and I wasn’t leaving the store without him. (I think I might have even paid for it with my own money!)

The stuffed mouse was about three inches long with matted grey fur. It had a little pink ball made out of yarn for a nose, and it was so badly glued onto the mouse’s face that it was just barely hanging on. The mouth was a small piece of black yarn and he had two plastic googly eyes.

I told my mom that I had to bring him home, because if I didn’t he would never be bought by any child. The mouse would be stuck in the store forever and no one would ever love him. I needed to save this little stuffed mouse, give him a home, and be the child who would love him. 

My mom let me buy the mouse—albeit she thought I was a little crazy because it was certainly an odd choice. Everyone who saw the fuzzy grey little mouse shared with me that they thought it was one of the ugliest stuffed animals they had ever seen.  But, I loved him, snuggled with him at night and took him lots of places with me.

Fast forward to present day. We fostered our first cat about four weeks ago—a brownish-orange, two year old kitty named Macchiato. He had broken his hind leg by falling out of a 10 story high-rise building and had to have surgery to amputate the leg. We were amazed that he had survived. A lucky little guy with a birthday (we found out) of 11.11.11. So here we are, fostering a three-legged cat. We picked him out of a bunch of potential foster kitties with the goal to make sure he got lots of love, exercise and a bit of a vacation from the shelter.

If I walked into the ASPCA shelter and was looking to adopt a kitty, and the volunteers showed us a three-legged cat, my own prejudices and judgements would have immediately turned him away. I would not have wanted a cat with only three legs; a cat who looks different or might have medical issues. I would have questioned whether this cat could live a “normal” cat life. I would not have given Macchiato a second look or even considered adoption. I would have most certainly picked one of the cute baby kitties.

Macchiato hops around on his three legs like a bunny—and that is endearing and unique to him and him alone! We are all in awe of how well he has adjusted to his new body and he does everything a regular kitty does. He is able to jump, play and snuggle. He purrs loudly when he is pet and when he sleeps. He is clearly loved by all of us, and he knows it. Macchiato is by far one of the sweetest animals I have ever interacted with. I have never met a cat that allows a toddler to hold and pet him. He follows me around the house as if he were a puppy dog, not a cat; he licks Owen's hair at night while Owen is sleeping; and, he sleeps on Liam’s bed every night. From the minute that cat entered this house he was indeed home.

I thought fostering a cat would teach my boys a few lessons about caring for animals that are broken, sick or need love. I shared with them that love would be the answer to healing and when the kitty had healed what ever ailed them, we would then send them back to the shelter so they could find a forever home.

Macchiato is certainly not the ugly, sad-looking mouse that I picked out from in the Hallmark store 35 years ago. But, he isn’t a brand new fuzzy kitten either, and I was afraid that if we sent him back to the shelter, he will be overlooked. Like the mouse needed a forever home, so did Macchiato.

Thank you Macchiato for teaching me that lesson – again; a lesson in compassion,  and humility that has brought me back to my seven-year-old self. I was brought back to that little girl who wanted the mouse because I saw what maybe no one else did. Welcome to your forever home little Macchiato.  Too bad I still didn’t have that mouse—you would make a great pair.

PS: Our adoption was final on Jan 30, and we "officially" took Macchiato home. The ASPCA created a collar for the cat and Liam gave him the middle name "Darwin." He said it was perfect for Macchiato as he represented  "survival of the fittest." He also said that when bad things happen (like Macchiato losing his leg) that sometimes good things come out of those bad things. 

"We got to foster Macchiato and then adopt him -- all because of his accident. If he never had that accident, we would have never met him, and he would have never become a part of our family," Liam said. 

How right you are!