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Pansies, Feral Cats, and God’s Grace
This morning, I was standing in my greenhouse admiring the pansies that were
blooming. I asked my husband to bring home three from the garden section of the
hardware store. He brought me three sets of six. So, I have eighteen plants. Bless him;
they are beautiful. The sun was coming up, shining peach-colored light through the
panes of glass. It should have been chilly inside as the night temperatures had dipped
below freezing. And it would have been had I not turned my greenhouse into a feral cat
warming station.
In the feral cat warming station, I run a little heater on cold winter nights and keep the
door slightly ajar. I have made ‘hostel-like’ sleeping accommodations for any of the
wayward feline souls needing a place to spend the night. There are bowls of water set
out since outdoor water sources are beginning to freeze at night. If I see a feline visitor
who looks in need of a warm meal, a bit of cat food is left for them. We have a few
regulars who stop by and the occasional visitor. When they move on, I worry. This is a
soft urban neighborhood for people, but it is a harsher place for cats. We do not live on
a busy street with bustling vehicles speeding past; the traffic of concern is the odd pair
of coyotes trotting by.
That I offer shelter to the homeless and hungry cats traveling through our garden brings
great distress to one of our household cats. He finds their presence and daresay their
very existence extremely annoying (He’s a cat). From inside the house, he growls and
snarls should some cats have the nerve to step out of the greenhouse and walk across
our yard. He darts from one window to the next while keeping an eye on them until they
are safely off the premises. Now, what I find curious is that my cat is a rescue cat. He
was abandoned early in life and lived on the streets for a couple of years. He is a very
smart and social cat but was in bad physical shape when rescued. While rejected for
some unknowable reason (What makes one cat more acceptable than another?) and
with a true desire to survive in an inhospitable world, he did so. He was taken in by our
family and given a safe home, a solid and varied feeding regimen, regular healthcare
visits, cat toys, and cuddles. He has thrived in an environment of generosity. How is it
that he worries that there isn’t enough cat love to go around? How is it that he believes
that cat resources are limited? As he sleeps blissfully atop his cat tree, warmed by rays
of sunlight streaming through the window, I stroke his fur. I tell him he is loved, they are
loved, and there is enough.
In peace and love,
Mother SuEllen
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