Rescued Love

     “You can’t buy love; nor can you buy happiness.” This phrase is so old I’m not even sure where it comes from but it rings with wisdom and plays on repeat in my mind as I enter the Heritage Humane Society. No material purchase has ever granted anyone deep lasting joy; therefore, it’s commonly believed that pets are a waste of money. HA! Clearly those who say this have never rescued a pet.

     Seven months prior my beloved SadEyes went missing and I felt the hole in my heart ever since. He had been my first true friend and we grew up together. He spent every second of every day glued to my side. I’d teach him tricks and give him treats; we would play and nap as a pair of inseparable buddies. Now that he is gone it’s just been me and O’brain, another feline I have formed a deep bond with.

     I breathe deeply as the strange smells of the shelter wash over me, some pleasant and some otherwise. A volunteer guides me through the gray halls past surgical stainless steel cages and whining animals. I wish I could adopt them all, free them from being so cooped up and lonely. She pushes on a white door; a pause, it opens. Before me is a room full of cages much like the ones from the hall only there’s one key difference: these are full of tiny mewing kitties.

     It is a few days before my sixteenth birthday and my mother brought me here with the promise of a new kitten. A companion for cuddles, crying, and chatting. But as I glances down the rows of endless curious eyes I wonder how I’ll ever be able to choose just one.

     After hours of endless browsing I finally have it narrowed down to just three little darlings. A gray male, a black female, and a tortoise shell female. Another person assists me into a room to see how I get along with each of them. I instantly love the lazy and sweet gray one. He’s practically a ball of fluff with a life force. But I fall even harder for the tortoise shell and her sister. Carefully weighing the pros and cons of each bundle of joy before me I decide upon the black scrawny one, the least likely to get a home if nt for me. My mom was not as enthusiastic

“Black-cats are bad luck, plus it looks kind of sickly.” I protested in vain against this but reluctantly settled for the tortoiseshell.

“Just let me verify her numbers and you’ll be all set!”

     We waited, and waited, and waited. I heard muffled distraught conversations then a woman in pepto pink pushed into the room.

“That kitten was already adopted. But she does have another sister that is almost identical to her!” Crestfallen by two rejections I suggested the gray one as my final option before she continues her statement.

“Today is also two kittens for the price of one!” Her overly peppy mood grates on my nerves and my mom suggests that we see both the sister and the gray one together to see how they get along.

     I look up shocked, two kittens? It must be a miracle! My mother smiles at me as I play with them. The gray one mews a lot and the tortoise shell makes a mess of the room. I’m in love.

     On the way to their new home I give them appropriate names. The lazy, talkative gray one formerly called Altoona is now Fortissimo on account of his vocal tendency and size. The scrawny female previously named Phoebe is now Treble because of what a trouble maker she can be.

     In the weeks to follow I would learn the Treble loves kisses in the morning and eating paper. Especially homework. I would watch her eat and become healthier than she ever could have been at the Humane Society. Fortissimo would become my cuddle buddy and scardey-cat. But he absolutely loves rubbing on feet and being held like a baby.

     This might not be traditional “love” but it certainly is to me and many other pet owners. Waking up every day to the patter of soft paws coming to greet you. Falling asleep every night with the warmth of a devoted best friend. Animals love deeply and unconditionally. So for all of those people who say you can’t buy love, I agree. But you can rescue it. A better question is who rescued who?