Spike - Angel in Orange Fur

I saw him for the first time early one spring when the wind was still icy across leftover snow, fragrant with just  the first tinge of new life.  He was bedraggled and thin from a long winter with too little food and not enough shelter,  but proud and independent, and wouldn't come near. He looked like a small lion with his orange fur, white ruff, huge head and slow, majestic gate. His fur was standing all on end in places, spiked in clumps, and matted and knotted in others. He was beautiful. 

I saw her the first time after a long, damp, miserable winter. I was pacing along the edge of the building and there she was, watching me.  I wasn't afraid, I knew she wouldn't hurt me.  I've been kicked, but long ago when I was young; my instincts are better now. She spoke; I didn't answer, but the sound of her voice touched something deep inside me; I'd remember her quiet offer. She called me Spike.

I  filled a dish with dry food and another with fresh water and took it outside; food wasn't impossible for such a big cat to find, but fresh water was a different story. Drinking from puddles was probably the best he had found recently. I spoke to him  -  told him he was welcome to have a meal in a safe corner.  He turned to look at me, paused, but kept going. When his eyes met mine, there was a glow of intelligence there, and something more that was only a sensation, not something material.

In the quiet, lonely hours before dawn I came back and ate.  The crunchy, dry nuggets were very different from what I was used to - not something scrounged from the garbage or hunted down - but very good, if a little hard on the teeth.  Filling, too. And fresh water! what a  nice change from puddles. It was a good feeling to have a place to come when there was need, a safe haven with no strings. She understood and the Goddess would approve, I was sure.

The food level dropped, so I knew he was stopping by for a meal now and then. He didn't stop daily, only when the hunting was bad or the weather had turned. That spring and summer I'd see him at a distance, proud and strong and beautiful. Sometimes I'd see him with other cats near him, which was odd - but then, maybe my small lion was starting a pride.

Since I'd been chosen, this was the first time I'd taken help from a human. The Goddess had provided someone to assist me when there was a wounded or starving one on my rounds. Being a Guardian is more stressful as I get older; suddenly retirement is on my mind as it never was in the past. Before, if I'd thought of the end of my stewardship, it was at the end of my lives, not as a rest from labors. Still, it's not time to think of that; there is much work yet for me to do.

One afternoon I saw Spike and a friend sunning themselves on the lawn next door - his companion was startled, but Spike looked at me and yawned.  I guess I should be flattered.  Even though I never saw him eating what I'd left for him, I did see some of his companions eating a much needed meal from that dish on the step.  He was sharing. 

I stayed close to the area that year, I'm not sure why.  Something in her called to my heart and I knew she was a kindred spirit -  she'd help any that I could take to her.  FireClaw (she called him Otis) was the first I herded toward her, then waited nearby. He'd been in a fight with a dog and though he got away (with a little help), he was bleeding and sore, and it was time for him to leave the freedom of the wild, before it was too late.

Spike seemed to know there was safety to be found here; Otis was (OutsideTigerInSide) only the first in a long line of strays, some  in desperate need, that found the way to my door. Spike was seldom visible at the scene, but I could feel his presence; he  was  there, watching from a distance to make sure they made it to loving shelter and got the help they needed. Otis stayed with me for about a month, healing and getting used to being with people, then went to the Michigan Animal Rescue League, a "no-kill" shelter here in Oakland County; he's now in a loving home, appreciated instead of abused, well fed and happy.  I wonder if he ever thinks of Spike?

I watched as FireClaw was carried out in the box with handles. His hurts were healed, he was well fed, and he told me he was well.  It was good. I knew there would be others I could help; the "abandonment" season was almost here. Kittens that had been loved would suddenly  become cats, and not worth taking home when the summer was over; throw away pets. They'd be left to wander alone -  hungry, confused and lonely for their people, till they either starved to death (if they were lucky) or were a meal for a larger predator. If their luck was very low they could expect to be mauled and escape to die in lonely pain. Better a clean, quick end. How could a pampered house pet fend for herself in the wild? Might as well kill the poor thing outright as let her starve while she  wondered what she'd done to deserve abandonment by those she thought loved her as she loved them.

The next rescue was the Grey Growler. This adorable gray and white kitten suddenly appeared under my window early one morning, crying  pathetically ... at the top of her little lungs. Squeaky and Sam were flattened against the window trying to get a better look at her...Spike was nowhere  in sight, of course. I went outside, slippers and robe, grabbed her out of the bushes (she growled but made no serious protest) and brought her inside. I gave her a bowl of  food, and since she was a kitten, some milk.  She settled down to eat...I stroked her soft little head...she growled.  I lifted an eyebrow....reached out to stroke her again...growl. Growling turned out to be her best trick. She didn't scratch, she didn't bite, she hardly cried at all, she purred like a little motor boat...and growled at everything; and she always growled when she ate.  She's now known as The Michigan Grey Growler and is running the house for my friend Jean in Pennsylvania, who has an assortment of Boas, and another cat, Sweetie. Sweetie has learned to tolerate the little stranger after an adjustment period.  MGG was one of the lucky, LUCKY ones.

Little SweetFur (GreyGrowler) was happy...I was glad she'd be close where I could see her sometimes.  Then came visitors and the box with handles again and my little gray lady was gone. She wasn't afraid, and told me not to worry - she had found a good home with the wild haired lady from out of town and she'd always remember me.  I miss her, sometimes, but am glad she's safe and loved.

Fall would be coming soon; the days were shorter and the temperatures cooler.  The leaves were changing color.  I worried about Spike as I hadn't in earlier years. Did  he have a place to keep warm when it snowed?  He showed no desire to come in, stayed aloof and regal, at a distance. I started leaving more food...building him up for the long, cold season ahead. I knew he was big and strong and fierce - but I worried, anyway. Spike was special.

Winter was coming; I could tell it would be a fairly mild one from the thickness of my fur, but I still needed to build myself up.  She was helping me prepare by feeding me extra. I had a warm place under a long people box in the next field; it was heated in winter and the heat stayed trapped under it; it wasn't as warm as I liked it, but it wasn't freezing and it was fairly safe, if rather lonely, after a summer spent close to my lady. But the Goddess needed me, still. So many helpless ones that needed me.

All through the winter I left food for him, usually the only sign of his presence the food disappearing, but sometimes, when I was lucky, he'd be close by and I'd receive a spark of acknowledgement from intelligent, golden eyes.  Sometimes days would pass without the bowl being touched and I'd scan the snow for paw prints or the sight of  orange fur among the bushes or in the woods next door.  He must have found a warm place somewhere, I didn't see him often that winter. He was a survivor - Spring and Spike arrived together.

The sun was warm again and it was time to visit with my lady. I wanted to know her; I'd missed her during the long winter. I was rather tired, and a fight with a coyote had left me wounded when squeezing past barbed wire to escape. I'd had no choice but to fight; there was a little cat held at bay, desperate and frightened. He fled during the encounter, which is what I'd hoped.  I'd not expected to be hurt...my reflexes must be slowing. I'll need some help, this time. It hurts.

His fur was matted along one side more than other...when I got a closer look I saw that he must have tried to squeeze through a space too small for him - the fur was torn from his flank in a huge chunk, flapping when he moved. His skin was raw and sore looking.  Escaping from a predator? Probably. It would take a time to heal - he'd need some help this year. How could he hunt with such pain? I wanted to stroke the proud head, and tend the wound in his side, but I knew he'd not let me touch him.

She left extra food for me; she left me my dignity and fed my need.  She was a gentle voice and a loving heart and I new she wanted to help...I wondered what it would be like to have her stroke my fur?  To live indoors, pampered, loved? No, I was too used to my freedom, I'd not give it up, even for her. I had duties, responsibilities...important work to do.  I couldn't rest, not yet.  Maybe someday when my duties were finished, comfort and happiness would be mine, but only if the goddess released me.  

This year was different; he allowed me to see him when he came to eat, and he seemed to enjoy my company.  He stopped hiding when he saw me, but still wouldn't come close, at first.  Gradually he relaxed, accepting my help and even letting me get within touching distance, a time or two.  He looked up at me with intelligence and a spark of hope...and a question in his eyes.  I prayed I had the answer.

I wanted to be close to her, but there had been so many that turned against me after they got close. She was different. Wasn't she? The goddess would tell me what to do. 

Even while he healed he still used his guardian angel talents. One evening when I went out to see if he had come for dinner there were two eating.  Spike was sitting on a lower step watching a small black and white cat eat his dinner. He looked up at me, blinked a hello, and went back to watching the little stranger. The little one looked up at me, growled, but kept right on eating.

I'd found her just before she had her kittens; bewildered and hungry and scared. She needed food and I knew just where to get it for her. I had to coax her into following me, she didn't trust people much, but finally she agreed to come with me. Once she saw how gentle the lady was, she wasn't afraid any more. 

I hurried back inside and opened another can of food; one wasn't going to be enough tonight! The new "growler" was a pretty little thing. He had a black mask over a white nose making him look a bit like batman with his white eyebrows on the mask.  Adorable.  I don't need another cat, Spike! Couldn't you take him somewhere else? Spike blinked at me.  Guess not. This LittleGuy was starving and  but not terribly afraid of me, which I imagine meant he'd not been abandoned too long.  He still trusted people, or maybe he just trusted Spike. 

SmallPurr ate her dinner, and most of mine, before I escorted her back to her lair. She asked me to go with her again the next day, not sure of herself or my lady.  Of course I did; she was so little and frightened and she  needed me.  What a wonderful feeling. She must eat before her kittens came; I was worried about that.  She was so tiny, barely old enough to give birth - it would be hard for her and if she didn't build her strength, she'd not make it.

Spike brought LittleGuy around again the next day, and then LG started coming by on his own, every couple of days.  Spike was usually near at hand and, when he was, they'd eat together.  

She had her kittens, but they didn't live.  SmallPurr (LG) was heartbroken, trying to understand why her babies didn't move. I helped her cover them so predators couldn't get them, but she was so lost after. I tried to cheer her, and she would listen to me with sweet sadness in her eyes, then turn away to sleep. She kept to herself more and more and didn't go to eat often enough. I stayed close to her, when my duties allowed - she needed me, and was so terribly unhappy. I didn't know how to help her.

A couple of weeks later when I went out to see about their dinner, there was Spike with a new companion. Scrufty looking, long haired, brownish-gray, missing one ear and terrified, he took one horrified look at me and ran for the bushes.  I put down the food I'd brought for Spike and LittleGuy and asked Spike to tell his new friend it was safe. Quietly, I went back inside. I didn't see VanGogh often, (now, what else would you name a one-eared cat?) but sometimes I'd hear him and Spike talking on the steps.  Once I had to go out and shush them when the conversation got a bit boisterous.

A few sleeps after the kittens were buried, OneEar joined our group. He was in need of a meal, too, so I took him with me for dinner at my lady's  place that night.  I knew she'd not mind one more little mouth. After all, the Goddess had given her to me; she had to help me where someone in need was concerned.

LittleGuy still showed every few days...then was missing for about a week. Then one Friday evening there he was, poor little cat, sitting on the porch, waiting for someone to come and help him. He was standing with his head drooping, tail low and he hardly moved when Chuck picked him up and handed him to me.  I cradled him in my arms and took him to the bathroom for seclusion until we could get him to the doctor.  Obviously, he was terribly ill and if it was contagious I didn't want any of the others to get sick.  Poor LG was so weak he didn't even have the energy to  be afraid; I got him a bowl of milk and a dish of food, but he was too ill to eat much of it.  His little eyes were starting to glaze and he was terribly hot. We knew he'd never make it to morning and at 2AM we were on the way to the emergency clinic where they admitted him and started an IV and antibiotics. They said they'd call if there were any complications, but all we could do was pray we'd not been too late.

SmallPurr was very sick; I didn't know what to do for her...she kept getting weaker and weaker.  Finally I coaxed her to the porch and my lady; I was afraid it was too late. She was so small, and so sad and helpless. I prayed to the Goddess to give her strength; SmallPurr had had so little happiness in her  life...couldn't She give a chance for love to her small disciple?

The dreaded call didn't come, so we went back to the emergency clinic the next morning to move him to our regular doctor. Wrapped in a big, soft towel and attached to IV tubes, I carried him in my arms while Chuck drove.  He tried to purr, but he was still so weak it was barely audible, and it faded in and out as he moved  from coma to consciousness. Our doctor had been alerted and was there to take him gently to his hospital room. They promised to call if there was any change and I had to leave him there, alone and small and sick and helpless. When we got home I thought I saw Spike in the shadows near the porch; I tried to send reassuring thoughts; I knew he was worried, too.

I waited near the steps, hoping for news. I'd seen SmallPurr taken out bundled up in a towel, held gently in her arms.  The noisybox had left in a hurry, too.  This wasn't a good omen. When she came home, she saw me made eye contact and sent me a  smile of hope, but I could tell she was terribly worried, too. I found my quiet place and sent another plea to the Goddess for mercy.

LG was there for three weeks, and had two relapses in the next two months, but now is a frisky, bright-eyed, sweet little girl.  Girl? Yes, girl; we'd been wrong about the gender. I should have known it was a bit odd of Spike to lie so calmly near her while she ate his dinner.  She'd had a litter of kittens, probably still-born since she was so terribly small, which weakened her, then was bitten by a bot fly, which laid eggs in the wound, which abscessed.  She survived a fever of 106.5, to be a lively, charming, companion who gets along with all the others perfectly...except Squeaky, who resents giving up her "only girl" status.  

When SmallPurr came home I was nearby.  I knew she was going to be alright, now.  My lady had told me how she was doing during our mornings together. She talked to me when we sat together and I learned to trust her more and more. 

Meanwhile, back on the porch, Spike was allowing me liberties.  He'd taken to waiting for me to bring his meal at night, and sometimes in the morning he'd show up, too.  I talked to him, telling him how LG was doing, and letting him know me. Yet, the days were starting to shorten again; winter would be here before we knew it.  Normally, I love cold weather, but this year I worried about Spike and VanGogh, who was showing up with regularity, now.  VanGogh would let me touch him if I was very slow and careful when I stretched out my hand; I'd managed to stroke his head and even his back, but only while he was eating.  I guess he thought it was the price he had to pay for dinner. 

She was so gentle and kind, her touch was so soothing on tired muscles and rough fur. When she stroked my flanks it was bliss, but when she hit that spot under my chin it was heaven, and I purred.  There were tears in my lady's eyes when she heard it. How long has it been since I was  happy? I can't remember, but sent a prayer of thanks to the Goddess for this interval of peace. 

Spike, on the other hand, now waited for me in the morning and I started having my breakfast on the porch with him sitting near me. Gradually he relaxed enough to let me stroke his thick, orange fur and scratch under his chin.  The first time he purred, I cried. He'd eaten a little, then had come to sit close to my hip, leaning against me and rubbing his massive head against my arm and spilling my coffee.  I'd talked to him and stroked him and enjoyed the companionship of friends and the cool morning breeze. Once or twice he'd nipped my arm; he loved me, too. Those halcyon days lasted not nearly long enough, and it was winter again.

I looked forward to our time in the morning more and more. If she didn't come I missed her, and if she did, I was like a kitten with catnip.  Her touch and voice were happiness for me; sometimes when she stroked me it was almost more than I could bear and in a moment of total ecstasy, I'd nip her arm.  She'd not pull away, and she didn't get angry, she just waited till I let go, then stroked me some more.  I could hardly believe it. She loved me, too.

The days got colder and colder and as long as the weather didn't turn wet I didn't worry too much.  Spike had survived many winters in the open, and he was showing VanGogh the ropes.  When Spike didn't show up for a day or two, it bothered me,  though.  It wasn't like previous years where if he was missing for a few days, I wasn't afraid.  Now we were much closer, and I worried. I wanted to bring him inside...it was his turn.  Spike had paid his dues, rescued so many others - my brave soldier had earned his safe haven...I loved him.

I'm starting to tire; I don't have the strength I did when the Goddess first chose me as a Guardian so long ago. Should I ask to pass the torch? I could live with my lady now.  She wants me, she told me so; it would be so wonderful not to fight and struggle any longer.  Just rest, sleep close to my lady...I'm so tired of fighting. 

One afternoon, before I could act on my need to bring Spike inside and just before the first snow,  VanGogh came for help; he had a limp, but was afraid. I tried to catch him, but even in pain he was incredibly fast. I followed him till he went to the underbrush and I didn't want to hurt him more, so  gave up, for then.  I left extra food out, and watched out the window all afternoon and prayed.

I found OneEar curled in a ball, cold and bleeding, near the edge of my territory.  I nuzzled him awake and then let him lean against my strength as we walked slowly to my lady for help. The walk took hours, and most of my strength and all of his, but we made it to her.  She picked him up and gently carried him inside.  I looked after them with longing. Isn't it my turn soon?

The prayers must have been heard; later that night Spike brought Van home.  He knew me, and let me approach him close enough to touch his head, then to pick him up.  It must have hurt him, but he didn't cry or try to escape, he just let me hold him while his brave  heart raced, poor little thing. I looked to Spike as I walked to the door....soon, my brave angel, soon!  Van is little and weak and hurt; I can't leave him outside to die in the cold.  I prayed Spike understood...I wished I did.  Spike deserved his chance.

Van disappeared into the house with my lady... OneEar is little and weak and hurt; she couldn't leave him out in the cold, but surely it will be my turn soon? I asked the Goddess when would I be allowed to rest...there was no answer.

Into the bathroom we went. I put a carrier in the bathroom for him, filled with soft towels so he could hide and feel safe. I brought him food and water and some milk and showed him the litter pan, then left him to be quiet and rest from his fright (me). He was a good patient, he let me stroke him and he listened and watched me carefully when I talked to him. After the vet saw him, and drained the abscess in his back leg, we had to drain it twice daily. 

I went to see her daily, now.  She was always waiting to talk to me, stroke my fur and give me a meal, but it was so cold outside now.  Somehow, I was feeling it more than in earlier years.  I'd like to be inside...

The night after I rescued Van it snowed.  The temperature dropped.  The next day, when the weather cleared, Spike was nowhere to be seen. I was worried. After two more days, I was frantic. When he finally showed up he was hungry and cold, but otherwise fine.  Still, what could I do? There was "no room at the inn"...there was no place I could put him if I brought him inside. All I could do was pray and hope my brave Spike would understand and have the strength to wait just a little longer. 

I'd saved so many, and was so tired and cold...when would it be my turn? I even started going in the hallway with her...trying to show her I wanted to be with her always.  Why wouldn't she take me inside? I knew she wanted to help me...didn't she? I love her so much...

It snowed again  and still I couldn't bring Spike inside; he was such a massive, fierce male, I was afraid to bring him close to Scoop and the others - he had to be separate and Van was using the only available room. I started opening the hallway for him at night and he surprised me by coming in.  He's curl up on the old afghan I put down for him, eat his dinner away from the frigid wind and blowing snow and we'd visit for hours.  Sometimes  he'd stay the night, but usually he'd open the heavy door and leave after I'd gone to bed.  

It was wonderful when we sat together in the hall, out of the wind and close to each other. I could always eat, but she didn't stay with me for long enough...I could eat when she wasn't there to lean against, so I usually left my dinner to sit close at her side and enjoy her warmth and love while I could, before I went back outside in the cold. She stroked my fur and talked softly to me; she wanted me to stay with her, but OneEar was still so sick she couldn't move him. I'd have to keep waiting.

I wondered how he'd gotten out (I thought he was safely shut in where it was warmer) till I saw him open the door; then I tried latching it tightly so he couldn't escape...he waited till someone came in or out and then he'd leave.  I worried more and more; he'd come to be with me and to eat, but mostly to be near me.  He'd leave his meal to sit near me and be stroked. When I went back inside, he'd leave, but he'd stay in the area in case I came out again...Temperatures  were increasingly cold and weather conditions were verging on unbearable. He would get die of exposure if he kept trying to be near me this way.  There was more snow on the way...predictions were for 18 inches or more. 

When she said goodnight I'd finish my dinner and open the door to the cold and make my way across the frozen lawn to my lair.  It was so lonely there, now, though - sometimes I couldn't make myself leave entirely, hoping that she'd come  to me again....maybe this time bring me inside with her. Don' t leave me alone!

VanGogh stayed in the bathroom for about a month, then I moved him to the bedroom, the "quiet room", so he could recover and get used to being an indoor cat and incidentally, accustom himself to being around other cats without worrying he'd be attacked.

I'm starting to despair; the Goddess hasn't answered me, and my lady only visits me in the hall.  I sit at her door and wait, she strokes me and feeds me, but she doesn't let me in. It's so cold. My fur is thick but my feet get so icy...when we sit together in the hall she holds me on her lap and warms me all over.  I soak up the warmth and her love and then have to go out again into the freezing wind.  The snow is deep now and it's hard to go back and forth to my lair. I try to stay nearby, in case the Goddess answers and allows me my freedom.  Please...

Some choices are too hard. I'd had to bring VanGogh in; he was injured and in need but in doing so I'd given him Spike's place...a place Spike had earned and deserved and wanted desperately. He cried for me when I had to leave him alone at night. I prayed for help. How could I leave my furry angel outside, feeling abandoned, in the cold? The weather was bitter most nights; when it snowed again and Spike was missing for three days I was frantic with worry.

The drifts were deep and  the temperature was frigid - I couldn't get home to my lady. I prayed to the Goddess for help and tried to sleep through the empty ache in my heart and the lesser one in my stomach. Why doesn't she bring me inside? I've done everything the Goddess asked of me, and more! It's cold, and lonely when I'm not with her...I love her;  won't my lady help me? Surely there's room for me? I've waited - others needed help so much more than I did...but now it's just me here in the cold and dark, all alone and afraid. 

Van was offered a home; the answer to my prayer. He was almost healed now, and was such a good patient I knew he'd do well in his new home. He was unhappy at being inside, but was always so docile when I stroked him and drained his wound - it must have hurt him horribly, yet he never cried or tried to bite. He never even tried to use his claws to escape the torture it must have been for him.  He knew I was trying to help him, and he even purred for me when I held him on my lap after a treatment. He was starting to accept his new life-style; all he needed was patience and lots of TLC from his new care-giver and he'd be a wonderful, loving companion. I stroked him for the last time and told him what a lucky kitty he was: a new home with no other cats, someone to love and care for him...his own place. He was safe at last.

I dreamed while the blizzard raged; a warm bed, gentle hands stroking my head, food that I didn't have to forage after...then woke to reality of a frigid whiteness everywhere and wind whistling in my shelter. I drifted in and out of sleep; conserving my strength till the storm was over.  The second day of the storm brought my answer. The golden light that heralded Her arrival filled my shelter with warmth and She was there.  Her golden eyes looked deep into mine and I felt my mind relax; she read my heart and released me. I would always be protected , but my duties as Guardian were soon to be over. The warmth of her presence sustained me till the storm was over.

Van was  settled; it was time. Past time! If (WHEN!) Spike came home after this terrible storm, he was going to be an inside cat. It was his turn...he'd earned his sanctuary. I kept a watch on the porch, and prayed. He was still alive, he must be!  If he'd not made it through this last storm I'd never forgive myself.  But what else could I have done? Van would have died, injured as he was, alone in the freezing weather, unable to hunt because his wounds were too severe. But what about my Spike? He  was cold and alone, hungry and unhappy in some drafty shelter.  Some choices are too hard; some choices shouldn't have to be made. Some choices break hearts. Mine was breaking.  I prayed.

The snow finally stopped and I could dig myself out. I could make my way to my lady's door. As I plodded the last few steps I felt a glow over me again...I felt Her presence and her blessing...and Her strength helping me the last few steps.  I looked up and there was a golden glow in the air above me...it flickered once, like a smile from heaven and was gone.

When Spike came home I  was waiting for him...I'd kept watch, my heart praying.  When I saw him I ran outside and held out my arms to him and he came to me.  I stroked his head,  picked him up, and when I did I saw a glow in the air above me;  when I looked up there was nothing to be seen except a flickering in the sunlight. I took him inside in my arms, and held him close, my eyes almost too blurred by tears to find my way back up the steps. He'd let me pick him up; no struggling at all. He purred as I carried him to the bathroom.  I let the tears come when I finally had him safe; joyous tears. That night we had another blizzard;   I doubt he'd have survived an even worse storm than the last.

When her arms held me for the first time I thought I'd die of the joy I felt, it was so strong.  Her heart beat against mine and her tears fell on my fur.  I was complete at last.  I could rest, my lady would watch for me, now. 

Epilogue

A little over a year later, my Spike was gone. I had him with me such a short time, but every minute was special and filled with love. The Goddess called him back to duty in late December, just  before the years end. I came home from work and found him paralyzed, but unwilling to go without saying goodbye. His breathing was labored, and he was afraid till I lay beside him and held him close in the fold of my arms; then his gallant heart calmed and he slept for awhile.  In the quiet, still of the early morning, long before the sun could caress him again, he opened his eyes. He looked into my  eyes with such a look of love and trust; he moved his head closer to me. I stroked him and whispered, “ I love you.” ; my tears fell on his orange fur…and he was gone and my heart was broken.

While my lady was out I heard the call…”NO! Don’t make me leave…not yet!” Such a short time I’d had with her; I’d hoped for more.  I protested, and the Goddess allowed me time to say good bye, but I was needed. My sabbatical was over and there were others that needed help now that I’d  rested my spirit. When my lady came home she was heart-broken to lose me…I tried to let her know I would always be close to her, but I’m not sure she understood….I looked into her eyes one last time and saw the love shining there. I had to let her know, somehow…

The days are long and lonely without Spike to share them; I miss my gentle warrior. When I come home I still expect to see him waiting patiently for my touch…the welcome glow of love in his eyes.  I had such a short time with him; I remember the happy days we spent together – breakfast on the steps with his head on my lap while I drank coffee and he purred…comfortable nights with his head resting next to mine on the pillow, a paw stretched out to touch me all through the night as if making sure I was really there, it wasn’t just a dream....My heart aches and I miss him terribly.

I was sitting at the window yesterday watching a huge, fat robin search for worms. He had a sharp eye open for predators and suddenly flew away. Then I  saw him. Large and strong, and young and healed! Orange fur, white ruff, large head - it couldn't be! He turned and looked at me - with recognition and love! The large golden eyes locked on mine and I saw a light within him – knew the love he bore for me was still as strong and alive as was mine for him.  He was busy elsewhere, if a little lonely. The Goddess was allowing me a knowledge that most never learn; death isn’t an ending and love never dies; Spike was still with me. He’s still protecting the weak but now he’s able to do so much more since he’s a guardian spirit. I've not seen him again….but I know he’s nearby, close in my heart and never to be forgotten.

The Goddess allowed me a last visit to see if all was well with my lady. Being in corporeal form again felt strange; I’d been allowed a body for this short time, so she could see me and know I was near her always. Seeing her and not being able to touch her was hard, but if I got too close I’d weaken in my resolve and I’d made a promise. I’d have to wait; though I’d visit her now and then and watch over her, I’d not be able to touch her again till we meet at the  Rainbow Bridge.

The other day as we were leaving for work I heard a high-pitched meowing.  I looked upward and there was a tiny black kitten standing on the landing above me, peering down and looking frightened. I started up the stairs…the kitten immediately decided I was a menace and fled.  I went to the back stairs…the kitten took one horrified look and made a bee line for the laundry room, where she hid behind the dryer. I knelt and held out a hand which was sniffed, thoroughly. I gently picked her up and she curled into a small, frightened ball of black, shivering fur.  There I stood in the hallway. wondering what to do now, listening to the kitten start to purr…There was a flickering of orange in the edge of my vision, then I heard a plaintive meowing coming from the apartment behind me. I knocked on the door…no response.  Chuck tried, harder.  This time there was a response, but not the one we’d expected.  The door hadn't shut tightly and it opened under the force of the rapping.  There was a small cat with Main Coon markings peeking worriedly out at me…and at the kitten in my hands.  I set  the kitten down, and patted her on the rump…in she went.  I closed -  and latched! -  the door and we left for work. If that wasn’t her home, someone was in for a surprise; go to sleep with one cat and wake with two in the house….but I know she went home; my angel is still watching.

I’ll always be near…watch for me in the glint of sun on snow, or the breeze across the grass; I’ll meet you at the bridge.  I love you.

@susan sackett January 2002

postscript

I called to see if Van was happy in his new home; he wasn't there.  Contrary to what I'd believed, the man hadn't the patience or ability to care for a cat that needed such extra attention. He'd shut him in the basement and left him alone all day, scared and bewildered by his new surroundings. Van was terrified and retaliated in the only way he knew how; he turned destructive in his struggle to escape. His new "owner" got rid of him.  He'd been thrown away!  Poor little VanGogh; I'd promised him a safe haven, with someone to love him - a home of his own, and what he got was death. In his condition he'd never have survived  in the wild again. He was still weak, confused. Such a sweet, small, gentle life - all he'd wanted was not to be hurt, and I hadn't even been able to give him that much. He'd trusted me and I betrayed him.

I didn't discover till a week alter he'd not just abandoned Van (thrown him out!) but had found him a new home. He's doing well, but I learned my lesson; I'll investigate before placing another kitty. Even people that seem to be the sort that wouldn't hurt an animal need to be watched