I see you. Yes, you.
The person who puts the food out for me every night. The person who somehow, through human wizardry, makes that water dish never freeze, even when the temperature gets cold. It still amazes me what those of you who walk on two legs are capable of doing.
It almost makes me believe in magic.
Almost.
As a cat who’s been roaming the neighborhood since I was a kitten, it’s kind of tough to believe in anything, but you make me wonder.
I know you’re the one who trapped me a year ago and took me to get neutered and shots. I didn’t forgive you for a long while after that, but I mean, I am a dude. Come on. And those shots hurt! Plus, I was pretty scared.
But I realize what you did for me. I’ve seen a lot of cats in my daily wanderings that are sick and getting sicker. I somehow seem to not really catch anything and I know it’s because you gave me vaccinations. I’m also not one to chase the ladies, as I’ve heard it described. That has helped keep me safe, too.
I watch you in your house at the kitchen sink. I see when you get the food together for those of us outside.
I know there are other cats in your house and you pick them up and snuggle them and it looks like it’s an amazing moment.
I’ll never be that. I’ve been on the streets too long. I’ve seen too much, experienced too much hatred at the hands of humans.
You are somehow different from the others, but I just can’t be sure. I’ve known too many cats who took the chance on someone, only to find out the incredibly hard way that they shouldn’t have. Trust is a commodity I don’t have the strength to embrace.
I appreciate the box you put out for me. How does that blanket stay warm? I noticed it’s plugged into the wall with a cord. That must have something to do with it.
Again, you two-legged folks really are pretty smart when you want to be. That warmth really helps when the nights get cold.
I know I’ll never be the kind of cat that you enjoy – the ones who purr and feel confident in your arms. Sometimes it makes me sad, but over the years I’ve learned the hard way to own who I am.
I’ll never really be enough. I’ve kind of known this since I was born. I’m not all that pretty. My fur won’t grace the cover of a magazine and my eyes aren’t all that piercing or memorable. I’m just a brown tabby and there are a lot of us in this world. I’m nothing special and never will be.
I know this.
But I also see you. I see the kindness in your face when I take the chance to make eye contact. I see how every night you put food out – no matter the weather. You have that coat you wear when it’s raining and the boots that keep your feet dry.
I see you. I know you want to help us, the cats that live outside. I know you want to help the cats that get to live inside, too, and that’s what makes you different from the others. It’s me who can’t make that step to trust.
It’s me who’s lacking because I never get close enough for you to touch me. It’s really not you. I just can’t let my guard down. I can’t do it.
Somehow I sense that you’re okay with that.
Because through all my days and nights of worry and cold and never being sure if a mean person or out of control animal will hurt me, I see you.
I see your smiles. I see your slow movements. I see your understanding.
And when it’s lonely, I take a deep breath and know in my heart that I have one friend.
Because I see you. And you make me want to believe…
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Jennifer Vanderau is the Publications and Promotions Consultant for the Cumberland Valley Animal Shelter and can be reached at [email protected]. The shelter accepts both monetary and pet supply donations. For more information, call the shelter at 263-5791 or visit the website www.cvas-pets.org. CVAS also operates a thrift store in Chambersburg. Help support the animals at the shelter by donating to or shopping at the store.
