Bringing Home Ginger

The day came that I've been wishing for and anticipating for a loooong time! I brought home a cat on Thursday night. My last blog post recounted how good things can come out of tragic events, and Ginger was one of those blessings that came to me out of an unfortunate incident. She was rescued from a house fire.

I first met her at the ballroom dance studio and dubbed her “Ginger Rogers” ever since. Before I saw her, I heard her little meow and saw one of the dancers suddenly prostrate himself on the floor to talk to her from across the room. I walked around the corner to meet a sweet-looking face and questioning eyes looking up at me. It was instant love. From that moment, my heart expanded and expanded and expanded! And when I heard her story, I thought, yes, Ginger! I’ll take you home.

It was one week before this that I had witnessed a house fire happen in my own neighborhood and been moved by it, so it seemed the event almost prompted my empathy more. Ginger’s owner had to move into low-income housing where pets aren’t allowed. That night I could hardly sleep - I was so excited with the possibility of adopting her.

When I went to Mass the next morning, the first reading recalled the infant Moses being found and drawn out of the water and adopted: 

Now a certain man of the house of Levi married a Levite woman, who conceived and bore a son. Seeing that who was a goodly child, she hid him for three months. When she could hide him no longer, she took a papyrus basket, daubed it with bitumen and pitch, and putting the child in it, placed it among the reeds on the river bank. His sister stationed herself at a distance to find out what would happen to him.

Pharaoh’s daughter came down to the river to bathe, while her maids walked along the river bank. Noticing the basket among the reeds, she sent her handmaid to fetch it. On opening it, she looked and lo, there was a baby boy, crying! She was moved with pity for him and said, “It is one of the Hebrew’s children.” Then his sister asked Pharaoh’s daughter,” Shall I go and call one of the Hebrew women to nurse the child for you?” “Yes, do so,” she answered. So the maiden went and called the child’s own mother. Pharaoh’s daughter said to her, “Take this child and nurse it for me, and I will repay you.” The woman therefore took the child and nursed it. When the child grew, she brought him to Pharaoh’s daughter, who adopted him as her son and called him Moses; for she said, “I drew him out of the water.”  

(Ex. 2:1-10).

I heard this and felt it was a sign. This cat, who showed up so unexpectedly, was like baby Moses in the basket, a gift from God waiting for me to reach out and embrace. I thought of how Moses grew up to bring deliverance to his own people from out under the Egyptians' rule and slavery, and how this cat would deliver me, too, from the loneliness I was experiencing. God provided a miracle in a basket with Moses, but he also provided along with it the resources Pharaoh’s daughter needed to sustain him (his mother as nurse). Ginger came home to me accompanied by free food, a pet carrier, litter box, litter genie, bed, cat toys and more.

My dance instructor who has five other cats of her own has been keeping her for the past month. She is so relieved to have me take her and says all Ginger wants is someone to bond with and love, and she needs a place where she can be the “only cat princess” in the house. “She is so sweet and loving. I just think she’s perfect for you.”

Episode Two: A Talking Cat

Ginger and I had an interesting first night together with both of us taking “cat naps” on and off all night. She had so many new smells and sounds to get used to, and I had to get used to sleeping with another breathing creature in bed. She perked her ears at every outdoor noise coming in with the breeze through the open window. Occasionally, she’d jump down from the bed and go exploring in the dark; then return and meow, meow, meow at me to tell me all about it. I said, “Okay, Ginger. You’re fine, Ginger” and scratched her head. Then she’d spring up onto the bed beside me, comforted to have found me again, and after a few more mellow meows, stretch herself out and start purring, the sound of it like a miniscule motorcycle engine. And we’d both sleep for a while, until the next time she bounced back down and came back again – each time like a joyful reunion.

Then today she gave me quite a scare. This little talker got so silent for so long, hiding behind the couch, that suddenly I wondered where she was. I spent half an hour calling her name and searching high and low in every possible hiding place in this house. But cats are the masters at hide-and-seek. Turns out she had found a way to crawl inside the sofa and was quietly purring from somewhere deep within the cushions where I couldn’t reach her! I finally coaxed her out with some food, so relieved that game was over. 

I'm sure we will have many more adventures, this little dancing princess and I. But both of us couldn't be happier!

Today I Am Like a Phoenix Rising

Early this morning, I was awakened by what sounded like a gunshot right outside my bedroom window. I sat bolt upright in bed, my heart pounding. It was about 2:30 a.m. Just moments before, I had been dimly aware of sirens bleating from various directions and now the roar of them became louder. Were they coming to whatever emergency this was? Had someone summoned the fire department? I got up and walked across the room to look out my window, which was pulled open to let in the cool night air. I saw across from me a narrow parking lot and another apartment building, from which quickly emerged a man and woman. They came out onto their front porch, looking to see, like me, what was the matter. Then they came down the stairs and started walking around the building. The woman got on her motorcycle and left; then came back a few minutes later to report to her husband, a big guy wearing a bold-lettered “SECURITY” t-shirt. By then, a third neighbor had joined them out-of-doors. He was bare-chested, wearing just some gym shorts, obviously hijacked out of sleep like I was, too, from the explosive sound.

I was racked with fear, having been startled awake so suddenly in the dark, and the sound of the explosion echoed in my ears like a menacing horror. I didn’t know what had caused it. Had someone shot a gun? Police often encircled the area neighborhood. I hoped it wasn't criminal activity. But what was it? 

All my senses were alert now. There was no going back to sleep. I pulled on some blue jean capris, feeling the urgency to prepare myself for flight or to protect myself. Grabbing my cherished rosary beads from the bedpost – the ones from Medjugorie that are such a comfort to me in times of distress - I walked around the house a bit, feeling unsettled. When I returned to the bedroom window, watching my three neighbors down below (and wishing to join them but too afraid to actually go down), I noticed, rising over the tops of the huge tree line just opposite, beyond the apartments, dense clouds of white smoke, larger than the heads of trees. I could not see the flames, but I watched with horror as the thick smoke puffed upward in billowy clouds, visible from the glow of street lights. I breathlessly prayed..."Our Father, who art in heaven...Hail Mary, full of grace...", beseeching divine protection for all with increasing fervor. All the while, an icon of Our Lady of Perpetual Help gazed calmly back at me from atop my dresser. I felt assured that Mother and Child were there, aware of the plight. 

Through my open window came the sound of glass smashing to pieces and a building falling apart. I never realized house fires would sound like that, but I kept hearing more glass breaking and smashing. 

In the next room over, my roommate was sound asleep, as it seemed the majority of my neighbors were also, oblivious to the danger in our own neighborhood – literally, in our own neck of the woods. It was almost 4:00 a.m. before my neighbors retired to their respective apartments, and I settled back in bed, still clinging to the rosary like to a mother’s hand.

As I began to drift asleep, it wasn't long before another sound pierced the silence and filled my ears - this time the cheerful chitter-chatter and chirping of birds. Before even the first rays of light had broken over the horizon, these little creatures of habit were anticipating a new day with innocent squeaks and chirps of glee, undaunted by the recent terror of the night. They let out their chant-like praise, thanking the Lord, in their birdish way, to be alive at the turn of a new day.

I felt more like a phoenix, slowly rising from the ashes, as I arose earlier than usual this weekday morning to attend Mass - the first time in a long time since I’ve gone to daily Mass. I drove by the burned house, which was located just one street down, its roof caved in and charred black. Perhaps, the fire burned away something in me during the night as well. I'd surrendered my walls to a force much greater. I'd been purified through tears, while the vice lurking to distract me from my God went up in the smoke.

A verse from today's Responsorial Psalm 17 struck my ears, "Though you test my heart, searching it in the night, though you try me with fire, you shall find no malice in me."

Later, I learned the gunshot sound I heard was an oxygen explosion that occurred during the fire. The female owner of the house was rescued and safe.