Sometimes in life, we are given an opportunity to do good. Sometimes in life, that opportunity changes us for the better and makes us realize that the chance to give wasn’t what we thought it was – but instead, it was the chance to receive a gift that we didn’t even know we needed. For me, that came in the form of a little nappy gray abused cat, named Bella.
Back in the end of 2000/early 2001, alot of things seemed to go wrong in my life. Well laid plans for the future which I thought were going to take shape had resulted in one of my ex’s going a bit crazy and winding up in alot of legal trouble. Psychologically, it left me pretty devistated, shocked, and really distrustful of those who were close to me.
At the time, I had a cat, named Grace, who was the sweetest little thing you wanted to meet. She helped keep me going – but at about a year old, she was a bit lonely during the day when I went to work. To cure this, I decided to get another cat because Grace needed someone to romp with, and to me, cats always do better in pairs. Because I dislike animal shelters (for the killing part), I decided that I would go to the local animal shelter and seek out a cat to “rescue” and to give a home.
I wandered through the animal shelter, as people do, and thought this cat is too big, that cat is too old, this cat is too young. Don’t want a striped tabby, don’t want an all black, don’t want this, don’t want that. Little did I realize that I was grading the cats based on what pre-composed notions that I had, trying to find a friend to the one I already had at home. After checking a few cages, I came to one in the back corner, covered with a towel and a sign that read “beware of cat”, and a date that she was to be put down – which happened to be the next day. I peeked inside a little fearfully, and instantly, I decided that if I could, I would give this poor pathetic animal a chance at life.
I asked the animal shelter about this poor cat – and from what they could tell me, she had been spayed earlier in the week, and Apparently, she had come from a situation where someone had horribly abused the cat. This little matted grey ball of fur in the back corner (I was later to find out she was a peaches and creme tabby -gray with a little white / creme tummy and mottled orange flecking throughout) had had her wiskers burnt off, had had her ear nearly shreaded off, and had apparently been severely injured (they suspected someone put her in a microwave) and was thus, not all mentally there. When someone found her, and brought her in, the shelter did what they could to repair the damage – and at the same time, a volunteer vet fixed her, in the hopes that she would become more adoptable.
The thing is that to her, this spaying surgery was just one more form of cruelty and torture, and because of all the prior injuries – the poor cat had resorted to cowering in the back of the cage, howling loudly any time someone came near, and tried to claw them badly because she was scared. So, the only thing that they could do to keep her relatively calm was to put a towel over the cage and block her from viewing the outside – just as the outside people (who may have been willing to adopt her) would be blocked from seeing her.
Being a stubborn person, and having had alot of experience with cats, I realized that she was scared. OF. EVERYTHING. She didn’t understand what was going on, she was hurting, and she was afraid. I asked one of the shelter workers if I could take the cage in the “visitation” room and while I got a strange look, they helped me move the cage into the room and told me good luck. After about 30 minutes of waiting for the cat to come out (and physically picking my feet up off the floor so she couldn’t see them), slowly the gray mass of mottled fur snuck out of the cage. I held my breath and waited. She skittishly sniffed about the room, gazing about… and when she finally saw me, she dashed back into the cage. Somehow, this action – this tentative sneak out of the cage, well it gave me hope.
Something inside of me, said hey, Humans can be cruel, nasty, and horrid. This poor little cat, despite not being much to look at – well, she deserves a chance to know that we can also be kind, loving and wonderful. She will need patience, and understanding, and well, maybe between myself and my other cat, we can help her to realize that people aren’t all bad. Once I made the decision, that was it.
By that afternoon, she was mine. I put her in the car, and proceeded to try to think of a name. As I drove home, suddenly it came to me. Bella.
Bella (Italian for beautiful) – not because she was the most beautiful kitty in the world – she wasn’t. In fact, almost everyone who saw her said she was NOT a pretty cat. Instead, Bella because I wanted to give her a name that would be something positive – something that she could aspire to – something that well, despite her outside appearance, would remind her every day that someone cared about her and thought she was just that – Bella.
When I got her home, she hid behind the washing machine for several months, and I learned to be patient. I knew she was healthy – she was eating her food and using the litter box. Over time (and a gradual moving of the food/water out of the room, into the hall, along the dining room, etc.) I got her to come out of her hidey hole and actually get her used to seeing me about. Eventually, she sat in the living room with me, and she saw Grace sitting on my lap and getting scratched. One day, she decided that hey, I’d like to be scratched too.
Eventually, Bella worked her way up from a lack of confidence into a cat who was still a bit skittish around strangers, but once you told her that it was “ok”, she would eventually warm up. She was terribly annoying and had her quirks – but in a sweet way. She always wanted to be on your lap, in the room with you, and having/ giving loves and kisses – to the point that you’d put her on the floor, try to get up, and she would be back on your lap faster than your lap could disappear. A few cents short of a buck, Bella could get lost in the house she’d lived in for several years – resulting in this horrid panicked caterwalling until you told her which room she was in / you were in and reassured her … but she had a really good heart and could make you laugh (and sometimes yell in frustration) in her need to tell you how much she loved you and the want that she had to be loved on.
I learned yesterday,from my mom, that Bella found a warm place on a dark shelf and curled up a couple of nights ago and passed away in her sleep. She wasn’t a young cat, and had a hard life. I’d like to think that toward the end, she had a good life – one that was deserving of her love.
So, That gift that I didn’t even know I needed? Well, I think that in the time that I had Bella, she taught me forgiveness toward humanity (who had abused her), reconfirmed that the outside appearance really isn’t everything, and that we can love unconditionally despite all the pain people put you through. That gift – well, it’s pretty priceless.
Ciao, Bella, you wonderful kitty, who may not have been the most beautiful cat on the outside – but was absolutely beautiful on the inside. May you find a sun-warmed lap in heaven to snuggle up to.
