Human No. 1
It was love at first sight. There “she” was, walking surreptitiously across the garden, up the steps of our deck, watching every movement around her; ready to scuttle away if I so much as breathed. She was tiny and I guessed no more than 6 weeks old. She was also skinny and wet and bedraggled, but her eyes had a fierce look to them, her demeanor of a warrior resolved to survive against all odds. All my life I had believed and told others the story that I was a “dog person”, and definitely not a “cat person”. But, in that very moment, I knew that my heart was making a special place for this warrior feral kitten that had showed up on my deck.
I bought my first ever cat-food and started putting it out for “her”. Notwithstanding my growing affection, I did not want to separate a kitten from her mother who I expected to be around and thought would show up for the food as well. She didn’t. I waited a week, then two, putting food out every day for the little warrior, getting increasingly worried for her safety; it was late October in North-East United States, the weather was getting cold especially at nights, and if a raccoon, opossum or another feral cat attacked her, she didn’t stand much of a chance. I waited with baited breath every day and thanked life when she showed up, each morning & evening for her meal, tiptoeing up my deck with the stealth of a Navy Seal!
The mother never appeared. I called up the local shelter and was advised that if the mother hadn’t showed up in two weeks, the kitten had been abandoned. I drove around to the shelter within the next hour to pick a humane trap. That evening the kitten walked defenselessly into the trap my husband and I set for her. The trap shut, frightening the bejesus out of the poor thing. We brought the kitten indoors and transferred her to the new dog crate as per the instructions by the wonderful people at the shelter. As we did this, the kitten hissed at us, scared shitless but a warrior nonetheless, the only time “she” ever did that.
I keep using quotes around the kitten’s pronouns. That’s because ever since we saw the kitten in our garden, we assumed it was a “she”. My husband says he did that because people often refer to cats in the feminine. I think I did it because I had always wanted a daughter. So, this “pet-baby” who had miraculously showed up in our garden and walked into my heart at first sight; my little warrior had to be a girl! Before we even brought her indoors, I had already chosen a name for her — “Grace”, in appreciation of life’s grace to have bestowed another living being upon us to love and care for. I am not religious by any means, but one doesn’t have to be to appreciate the mystery of grace. So when we took “Grace” to the vet for her first visit, not long after we had brought her home, imagine our surprise when the vet said “it’s a boy!” Well, my dreams of having a “pet-daughter” did not materialize, but I was already head over heels in love with “him”, and since it was clear by then that this willful little warrior was going to have things his way, there was only one thing to do, ask him what he wanted to be called!
Mommy: “my sweet little kitten, my lovely little fur-ball, what shall Mommy call you now?”
Kitten: “meowwwooo-oo-oo-oo!”
Having learnt my lesson about pre-judging, I decided to let the name come to me. In the meantime, the kitten; this gorgeous little tabby with his luscious brown coat dotted with specks of gold, this mini-tiger who a friend suggested we name “tiger”, had decided I was his mother. He was “picture-perfect” cute; the kind that you see on pet calendars and go “awwwwww”! His favorite spot in the house was the little gap between my butt and the back of my computer chair, so while I spent my days working, he spent his days sleeping behind me, nestled up in the warmth of his human mommy’s body. When he awoke, he would jump on my desk and sit on my keyboard demanding I play with him! My husband who also loved the kitten but was still warming up to the idea of being “daddy”, jokingly called me the kitten’s “Human №1” and himself “Human №2”! The kitten spent most of his time with Human №1 and occasionally went to play with Human №2.
I do not remember exactly when the roles changed. Maybe it happened when I got extremely busy working on a deadline that demanded my complete attention taking it away from the kitten. Or maybe the kitten understood that having conquered mommy’s heart, he had to do some cute-work to convert Human №2 into “daddy” to secure his position in the household. Or maybe it was a “boy” thing, you know, “sons & fathers” hanging out, watching a game or doing their favorite activity together, which in this case, happened to be the kitten scratching his chin against daddy’s stubble. Or maybe it was a cat being fickle as cats are often known to be. Whatever the reason, one day I saw the kitten waking up, stretching himself as cats do, jumping off the couch, walking straight past mommy to daddy’s desk, and jumping up to daddy’s lap to rub against his stubble and then sat there comfortably. Over the coming weeks, this behavior became the new norm. Daddy was well on his way to becoming the new Human №1.
I come from a broken family. I had lost my mother to stroke as a teenager, and my sister/soul-mate to cancer as an adult. Although I do have a large extended family and several cousins who look up to me as an elder sister, they all have their own immediate families to love and rely on. The fractured relationship I have with my father; my one living relative in my immediate family, and his preference for his other family with my step-mother harbored in me a certain kind of lonely knowledge that I was now first for no one. Although if I think this through for just a minute, this is actually not true at all; I am definitely FIRST for my very loving husband. But emotions are not logical and family trauma runs deep, and even when we think we have done “the work”, it shows up in unexpected ways. And so it was, that one day as my warrior-kitten walked past me, ignoring his mommy to nestle himself in daddy’s arms that I burst into tears that stung with rejection.
Mommy: “my sweet little one, are you angry with mommy? Did Mommy do something wrong?”
Kitten: “meowwwooo-oo-oo-oo!”
My husband, being kind and considerate, tried to re-establish Mommy as Human №1 by occasionally ignoring the kitten when he meowed at Daddy for attention. They say that it’s the only way to train or re-train a cat. I say “occasionally” because daddy is a softie, and finds it hard to ignore the kitten. Besides, you ought to have a heart of steel to be able to ignore the sweet sound of a kitten. The ignoring works sometimes and then it doesn’t. The cat does what he wants, he definitely knows I am mommy, comes to me when he wants food rubbing his body against my legs, and often blinks softly at me called the “kitty kiss”, but when he wants a real cuddle, Human №1 and №2 seem to have reversed, for now anyway.
One of the remarkable things about life is how transformative seemingly small things can turn out to be. A little kitten can become a mirror that shows the wounds of one’s childhood. They can evoke memories of one’s own parenting and affect the kind of pet-parent one becomes. But they can also be a conduit for healing and emotional maturity. Loving my furry boy is a reminder that love is a gift, not a transaction. And having heard numerous stories from friends about both their furry and human children’s seemingly irrational/fickle whims and preferences, at once endearing and frustrating for the parents, I have come to believe that there is much in common between human and furry babies. Both are bundles of joy who strut into our hearts with their big eyes, soft bodies and oh-such-sweet voices! And both tend to break it from time to time.
I finally decided to name the kitten “Evan”; Welsh for “Lefan” or “John” that means “God is Gracious.” So, “Evan” is the masculine form of “Grace”. Because no matter which human Evan prefers on any given day, I am thankful for life’s grace to have brought him into my life.
Mommy: “So, little one, what do YOU think, are you ‘Evan’?”
Kitten: “meowwwooo-oo-oo-oo!”
