Somebody Else’s Birds - Polynesia

Not clear today if I’m here to cheer up the cats or vice versa. As the drizzly morning (it’s June, folks) gives way to a weirdly humid afternoon, I’m averting my eyes and ears to headline news and the distressing images of gushing pipes, slicks, and dying oil-coated birds coming out of the gulf. Can I just mention one thing that seems to be left out of all the rhetoric? Serious conservation.

But off the high horse and on to Maddie’s. There’s the usual rush of people seeking kittens. We have several sets of adorable little siblings, all looking deceptively precious and sleepy. I try to make sure the potential adopters know what’s in store with raising a kitten. Some people are browsing, waiting for the perfect match, while others have particular coloring and coat length already in mind.

It’s a relief when one woman comes specifically seeking a middle aged adult cat. As she moves off to check out the selection – and there are dozens to choose from – I settle in with Polynesia, a charming and pretty 3 year old Balinese mix. She’s silky soft, with blue eyes, mottled tan fur and kind of tortie points. She’s a sweetie who loves laps, and she purrs and drools a bit before settling on my crossed legs, leaning into me and nudging her head into my hand for behind the ears stroking. Her fur is so soft and thick, with a luxurious undercoat; she’s a fairly small cat underneath.

Dislodging Polynesia, I head back out to show some more kittens and cats. I spend awhile in counselor mode with a woman who’s recently lost her beloved cat to cancer. Her grief is palpable, and while she’s not ready to adopt yet, she just needs to be around cats. We hang out playing with three feisty youngsters and exchange stories about departed pets. I hope it helps her to be able to talk about her irreplaceable kitty, and know she’s in a place full of people who get it, who’ve also had that sad silence at home where there used to be happy meows.

By the end of my shift, I’m not exactly feeling better about the state of the world. Maybe at least relieved to be doing something small but positive. I’m not sure that it is okay to feel better, though. How long can we all act like they’re somebody else’s birds?