Here is my one-eyed cat.
He likes to lounge around with his best friend, Snowflake, who I think looks like an upside down skunk. She's the one who pulls the yellow rope around like a dog.
Anyway, the point of this. . .
Jack has one eye. He was a wild cat who injured himself somehow. His eye and mouth were infected. Eventually, his eye had to be removed. A local pet store, who rescued both Jack and Snowflake, asked if anyone would take the cats in.
So we did (I didn't want to at all--it's my husband who loves cats mostly). I resisted with every fiber of my being (Now, I'm completely in love with cats. I would write blogs about these cats).
Jack's one eye was strange and a little creepy. But soon, nobody noticed or even cared anymore. Sometimes, because he only has one eye, he bangs into stuff.
He is a tough kitty.
Too tough. He didn't even purr, not once, ever.
I noticed this one day. Months had gone by, and Jack didn't purr. Not once, ever.
Our injured, wild cat had lost his purr. Years of sorrow had clogged him up. The purr didn't work.
The family and I decided to embark on a project to help our injured, wild kitty rediscover cat joy. That purr was in there somewhere. We brushed him, snuggled him, fed him, bathed him, pet him, loved him and loved him and loved him.
One day, he's lying there, and like a slow machine winding up and letting loose, I hear it coming. Jack found his purr. And the moral of the cat story? You know.
5 comments:
I'm a sucker for cat stories, and this one is really sweet. Glad Jack and Snowflake found a second chance with such a great family!
Purr-fectly cute kitties! (Sorry I just had to.) :)
No! I don't know!
What's the moral of the cat story?
I have to know!
I relate to Jack and feel his struggle without stereoscopy. I've been blind in my left eye since birth, though I still have my eyeball fortunately. I find it hard to navigate the car through tight spaces or play sports without missing the ball (but for some reason I'm actually good at catching a football despite my disadvantage). It really dampens the spirit to be half blind-- removed from the experiences of others. I've been to 3-D films but it appears the same as any normal film I've seen. I don't understand what people are talking about when they say they see objects at different depths or things appear that they're coming directly at them. It's also difficult to even see an object right before my eyes because I have a smaller field of vision. But then I think about those who can't see at all. They are the true champions, braving the streets with a stick, finding their way around their home. I can't imagine performing life's tasks without the ability to see at all. The true blessing is having the ability to see color, your family and loved ones, that beautiful sunset which makes you stop in your tracks and admire it because you feel like you'll never see it again. Vision may be one of life's best gifts. So whether or not we have crisp 3-D vision or fuzzy 2-D vision, the ability to at least see the amazing spectacles before us is enough to be thankful for. Although Jack and I, who have problems running into walls or driving a car, cannot see the world as everyone else, we do see the world in our own way. The way we see it is awesome and cannot be taken for granted.
hi !
i just came upon your blog via 1000 awesome things...
this story is so wonderful
and i am happy that jack found
such a lovely home with you.
wishing you a day of happiness.
~terry
Post a Comment