He was just a stray, a lost cat. He meowed out of the broken wood and jumbled potted plants. Someone had dumped him from an unknown location and just dropped him off like he could take care of himself. Domesticated cats can’t hunt like wild cats.
They can’t survive alone.
People bring them home.
They love them for a time.
Then they grow up.
Lost in the world, abandoned and alone, crying out for a gentle hand to take care of them again.
He was that lost little cat, yearning for a home safe and warm that he once knew.
I went to check the mail and I didn’t see him. I heard his cries, a kitty in distress calling out to anyone who would hear him.
I called out to him, trilling and whispering, hoping to see a glimpse.
He bounded out of the shadows running to me, calling out and tracing my every step.
Not wanting to be abandoned again, but ever cautious of any impending danger, he stayed back.
Several attempts were made to show safety, to show the way.
He would not follow, his heart had already been broken.
Sadness crept up in my soul, I would see another one die on the streets.
Home again, I told the grand story of the brave little cat trying to find his people.
The sad crying cat wanted to come but went back into the shadows when the feeling of danger was too strong to go any further.
A young man of great stature and moral strength heard the desperation and urgency in my voice.
Leading him to the place I heard the cries, I hoped the forlorn cat was still there.
He bounded up again like before, calling out in earnest this time.
He wanted to know if he had found comfort and rest.
His people came.
The young man picked him up with ease.
He moved onto the man’s back.
A ride home, to a safe and warm place.
Tharlew he was named.
The young man had spoken it.
Skittish and afraid, he runs from other cats and our loving dogs.
For weeks he eats alone and steers clear of any canine interaction.
He clings to the young man.
The cat has claimed his person.
Special treats of chicken, fish, and beef are given.
He lays on the lap and sleeps under blankets.
Playful and loyal, he stays.
Home has been found once again.
Months pass by and he’s getting thin.
His bones and spine are jutting out.
He’s sick and dying, I have no words.
If only I could take him to the vet, but no.
No way to get him there.
Can’t afford the cost to help him feel better.
We must be strong.
Make him as comfortable as possible.
Watch him slowly whither away.
Sadness envelopes this household.
He still lies in his favorite spot.
He’s alive, but we know he’s sick.
Poor Tharlew, what a wonderful gift.
Only to be ripped away by sickness.
My son’s heart will be shattered when he dies.
For he was the young man who brought Tharlew home.
