Everybody Wants to be Rescued
Below, is a photo of my “foster” cat, Bruce. I’m being disingenuous about the term “foster;” I rescued him from a bad situation and it’s unlikely anyone else will adopt him, given his myriad of issues, plus The Kitten loves him, so basically it’s easier to say he’s my “foster” cat than to give the complete Thorn Birds miniseries that is our relationship. He’s a needy, destructive, big-boned, pain-in-the-ass and he’s mine.
When he first came into my apartment, Tammy, the hilarious woman who had arranged his rescue, set him down in the living room, and then turned to The Kitten–who was torn between rage, shock and more rage at this vile interloper in his lair–and said, “Clayton, your mother is a good woman and she’s rescuing this cat who really needs a home. You can be generous and welcome him to cat community; he needs a friend.” (If you’re not a cat-person, those sentences made you snort, roll your eyes and feel sad for me; if you are a cat-person, you’re probably wondering who started chopping onions, and wow it’s so dusty in here!)
The first weekend or so, as the boys got to know each other, was not fantastic, but eventually they made their peace and now they wrestle together, eat ‘nip together and sometimes even snuggle.
I’m honestly not writing any of this to toot my own horn–that would be sad–but because, essentially, what I did with Bruce, is what I try to do with clients: rescue them. Usually, from themselves, from the worst parts of themselves, that part that thinks they deserve to be miserable. They don’t; no one does. We all need someone to rescue us. It may be easier to rescue cats and dogs because they’re easier to love than the average person–certainly easier than the average New Yorker–but that doesn’t mean that we’re not all worthy of be rescuing. Starting with ourselves. #hinthint Very best wishes for a wonderful 2014! Carlota
