The cover
photo on the Spring/Summer 2012 edition of the BCSPCA’s Animal Sense magazine brought a flood of memories and emotions.
There, on the cover, was the face that has been in our dreams, and in a picture
frame on our bureau, for the last six years. Of course, after all this time we
didn’t really believe that it could be our kitten, KoKo, but when something so
precious goes missing, a part of you never loses hope that it will come back
again.
In the fall
of 2005 we were facing yet another challenge on our ranch in Southern Alberta.
We had survived years of drought, years of flood, years of uncertain income and
crushing debt, but the final blow came as we realized that The Lonely Potter’s
arthritis had become too crippling to continue trying to ranch. The ranch, our
home, was for sale. We just had to survive until the right buyer came along.
This was much harder than it sounds.
After
several years of chronic, and worsening, pain, The Lonely Potter now had to
come to terms with the end of a dream. Each day was torture to get
through. Gradually, depression came, and
stayed. We had reached the end; physically, financially, mentally, and emotionally.
We had nothing left to give. At least,
that’s what we thought. Then KoKo appeared.
One day, as
the first cold days of the end of autumn arrived, a tiny kitten stared silently
at The Lonely Potter from the top of the hay stack in the hay shed. It was a startling sight, as we were miles
away from the nearest neighbor, certainly too far for such a young kitten to
have travelled by itself. It was alone, wild, and beautiful. Suddenly The
Lonely Potter realized that he did have something more to give; love.
He hurried
back to the house, to find milk, tuna or anything else that might tempt the
kitten to eat, and maybe, be touched.
The food was laid out, and The Lonely Potter stepped back to watch, but
the kitten was too wary. It wouldn’t come close. For the next few days The
Lonely Potter continued to take food to the kitten. I went to work every
morning, and came home every evening, without learning about the drama that was
taking place in the hayshed. Then, one
day, The Lonely Potter mentioned that a stray kitten had shown up, and it had
such beautiful eyes he hadn’t been able to resist feeding it. “Would it be
alright,” he asked, “ to bring it into the house? If it could be caught? It’s
so small, and it’s getting really cold. And it is a really beautiful kitten...”
. I was so happy to see him feel something besides pain, for the first time in
a long time, I would have let him bring it in the house if it was the ugliest old
tomcat in the world. But it wasn’t. It
truly was a beautiful kitten, as I saw the next day, when The Lonely Potter
walked slowly to the house, with something cradled inside his jacket, holding
it close to his throat, so it could hear and feel his pulse, and would feel
protected.
During the
first weeks of his captivity, the kitten
lived in one bedroom. He shared The Lonely Potter’s bed, which I had been unable to do for a
while, since I am a restless sleeper, and my constant thrashing around jarred
his painful joints, keeping him awake at night.
The kitten’s soft, warm body fit nicely into the crook of his neck, and
his steady purring calmed and soothed The Lonely Potter to sleep. As their bond
became stronger, and we were more certain that the kitten would not run away,
he soon had the run of the house, much to the disgust of the other animals who
shared our life.
I say “he”
although for the first few months of his life with us, we thought KoKo was a
girl. He had such a delicate face we just assumed he was female, and never
checked to find otherwise. As winter turned to spring, we thought we had better
have the kitten spayed, as we knew an unsprayed female cat would soon bring
unwanted male cats and then would come more kittens, which we could not afford.
So we took the kitten to the vet, to be “spayed”, and were surprised to find
that it only had to be neutered! It was a little young for a tom cat to be
neutered, and KoKo never lost his high pitched, kittenish mew or his delicate
features.
Meanwhile,
we continued our desperate efforts to sell the ranch. Finally, that spring, it sold. By summer we had found another home, on an
acreage outside of Williams Lake, and in July, 2006, we moved. Unfortunately, days before the move, The
Lonely Potter developed a gum infection, which led to the need for extensive dental work, and several visits to
the dentist. Since we didn’t yet have insurance set up in B.C., or a dentist,
he decided to have the work done by our dentist in Pincher Creek, necessitating
trips back and forth between our old and new homes.
I didn’t yet
have a job in Williams Lake, so I stayed at home with the animals as we all
explored our new surroundings. There
were no ground squirrels here, just tree squirrels. All the dogs and cats
looked quite bemused to see these rodents scurry up the nearest tree whenever
they gave chase. It didn’t take long for KoKo to learn how to climb up the big
fir tree in the yard. It took a little longer for him to learn how to get down.
At night we all settled down to sleep in the same room together. We have never
allowed our pets to stay outside at night, and I liked to know they were near
me as I slept in this new place. KoKo assumed the place of honour, on the bed,
with me. Finally, The Lonely Potter had had his last dental work, and came home
to stay. That evening, I went to bed while he and KoKo stayed out on the deck,
enjoying the cool breeze.
The next
morning, KoKo was missing. He hadn’t come in with The Lonely Potter the night
before. At first we thought he had just gone exploring and would come back any
minute. Then we realized he was lost, so we made posters, notified the SPCA,
put notices in the paper and on the local radio station. But KoKo never came
back.
When we
moved, we had purchased a new, very firm bed. It was large enough, and solid
enough that The Lonely Potter and I could sleep together and my night-time
tossing and turning didn’t wake him. Now, though, neither of us were sleeping
well. Frequently, in the night, we would both feel movement and light pressure
on top of the bed clothes, just as though KoKo was there, snuggling down
between us. Each time we would wake, and realize it was just a dream. These feelings of phantom visits from KoKo
went on for months, keeping our vigil for the lost kitten alive.
Every time
we saw a tabby cat we looked closely to see if it was KoKo, but it never was.
One day, the next winter, I saw a tabby in the yard, and I ran out in my
slippers to see, but it had disappeared. That was when we put KoKo’s picture on
the bureau in the bedroom, and told ourselves he was gone. Logically, after six
years, we know that KoKo is long gone. Yet, when that magazine arrived, and I
saw the cover, there were those old feelings of hope rising again. The cover
cat is the first tabby I have seen with markings identical to KoKo’s, right
down to the white blaze on his face. It was time to tell KoKo’s story.
Our last cat
died five years ago, and The Lonely Potter decreed at that time that we would
have no more cats, because it hurt too much to lose them. I know, though, that
if KoKo were to march into our yard today, this edict would be overturned. Sadly, the cat on the magazine cover was not
KoKo.
At first
reading, this could be a story of how people can help animals. For those who
know, however, it is really a story about how animals help people. If KoKo
hadn’t arrived in our lives when he did, I am not sure The Lonely Potter would
have survived that winter. KoKo was just
a little lost kitten, but he had the power to cure sadness. Where ever you came
from; where ever you went - Thank you, KoKo. Rest well.
