I have several cats -- all of them are strays or rescues. Most of the cats I have came to me from the woods
that surround Willow Oak, my 16-acre farm in rural Alcorn County Mississippi. A few have come by way of my
having rescued them from some otherwise nefarious outcome. I acquired one or two while out and about
on one of my occasional run of errands. A few I keep, but most I deliver safely to the animal shelter. You
can't keep them all.
I was on a recent trip to town recently to run errands and do some shopping. While in town I stopped at
one of the popular "Mom and Pop" restaurants we have here to enjoy a breakfast of bacon and eggs and
grits and biscuits and gravy.
I returned to my truck to continue my errands, and as I passed through the doorway I heard a faint squeak.
Very faint the noise was, so I stepped out and quickly back in, and I heard it again. It sounded like a kitten,
but I couldn't be sure, so I stepped out, walked around the parking lot, looked under the truck, looked in
the truck -- everywhere, but I simply did not see a kitten anywhere. Not finding anything, I re-seated myself
in my truck and drove off.
Groceries were next on the agenda, so I drove to the supermarket. I did my shopping and returned to my
truck to load the groceries. After having opened the passenger-side door I proceeded to grab a bag and
place it onto the seat. And as I passed the door opening I heard it again! A very faint, almost imperceptible
squeak! What was it? It sounded like a kitten, but ... I continued to load the groceries, and with each pass
through the door I would hear the squeak! Once again I studied the parking lot, looked underneath the
truck, checked inside and outside the truck -- everywhere, yet I could see no kitten! What a puzzle!
Anyway, it was time to get on with my errands so I seated myself and continued on. Before proceeding to
my next stop, I saw that I needed gas so I pulled into a station to fill up. I exited the truck, swiped my card,
and begin to pump. I am by nature a very lazy person, so instead of standing there and holding the pump I
wedged the gas cap into place and let go of the pump and walk around a bit. It then occurred to me to
check the oil, so I popped the hood to have a look. I found the dipstick, pulled it out and immediately heard
the squeak. I remained very still for a few seconds and listened. No sound, but the moment I moved I
heard the squeak again! There was no mistaking it this time. The sound most definitely belonged to a
kitten, but where? So I slid the dipstick back into place and began another investigation. I checked the
parking lot; I crawled beneath the truck, I looked under the seats, I looked everywhere. No kitten!
I was very frustrated, but what could I do? Maybe I was hearing things. Maybe the sound did not belong to
a kitten; maybe I only imagined hearing a kitten! I had just driven all over town and had thought I heard a
squeak everywhere I stopped. I had done a very thorough and exhaustive search of the premises and the
truck, yet had not turned up a thing; so I must be hearing things. I know that I don't look like I am past 50,
but I am, and I have all the attendant shortcomings of a middle-aged man, including partial deafness, and
perhaps even some senility, so I dismissed the squeak, quickly finished gassing up, hopped in the truck,
and drove away.
I stopped next at the hardware store. I usually spend a little time there since I can linger in the repair shop
in the back and "shoot the breeze" with other locals, and just generally kill a little time. I didn't stay long,
but bought a few things I needed ..., some wire, a couple of light bulbs, and a chain for my chainsaw, then
headed out to my truck. I hopped into the cab and drove off, having forgotten all about the noise I had
been hearing earlier.
At home I unloaded the groceries, performed a few chores around the house, then deposited myself into
my favorite chair in front of the television. But within a few minutes the dogs started a row. They really
made a racket! So I went outside to see what was their fuss. The dogs were all congregated at the fence
barking in the general direction of my truck. I went to where the dogs were and yelled, "What are you guys
making such a fuss about?" When I said that the dogs really cut loose then. "Hush up now! Stop all that
racket! Who do you guys think you are, you mangy pack of flea-bitten mongrels!? Stop that!" The dogs
dutifully obeyed, and milled about with their heads hanging low and tails wagging. I took a look in the
direction of the truck, and then I remembered. What could those dogs be barking at? I wondered . I
walked through the gate of the fence over to the truck, and stood there, gazing at the truck and listening...,
listening ..., yes, I could hear it again. There it was again -- a very faint, but distinct squeak, and it emanated
from the truck. Somewhere within the confines of that truck was the source of that squeak; but what was it,
and more to the point: where was it?
So I retrieved my flashlight, and began the search again. Once again I checked beneath the truck, crawling
around on my back in the gravel of my driveway. I looked behind and under the seat, and under the
dashboard. I looked under the hood. I crawled up into the engine well for a closer inspection. I looked
everywhere, and every now and then I would hear a very faint and very distant sound, the very distinct
mewing of a kitten. But for all the energy I expended in my search I simply could not locate the little
creature. So I crawled out of the engine well and back down to the ground.
I was at my wits end. So I decided to shut the hood, but before I did I moved to the side of the truck to
remove some debris that had gathered underneath one of the springs. As I did so, I caught a glimpse into
the wheel well on the passenger side. There in the wheel well, just out of the reach of the massive tire on
that side of the truck I saw it. Yes, I finally saw what was the source of my frustrated and up to that point
fruitless search for the source of the mystery squeak. Away down in the wheel well on the passenger side
of the truck, crouched ever so precipitously on the edge of the well I saw a very tiny, very scared, very frail,
puffy, squeaky ball of fur.
[Since I first published this story I have often been asked about this kitten that I found. I have found many puppies and
kittens, which I subsequently delivered to the animal shelter here in Alcorn County. I wish I could keep them all, but that
is totally impractical. Among the other animals that I found and delivered I often think of them and wonder as to their
ultimate outcome. I am always haunted by their faces. This kitten is among those that I delivered to the shelter, and
concerning its ultimate fate I haven't a clue. Although I do not regret my decision to deliver this particular kitten it does
grieve me that I cannot keep every kitten and puppy that I find. Ah ..., such is life. However, I am comforted in knowing
that the good people at the animal shelter do their very best by the animals that find themselves in their care.
It is also comforting to know that the Great Creator of us all is even more concerned than I, and He too looks after them.
--D.T.]
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
|
Please take a moment to read or leave a comment in my Guestbook, or read more about daily life at Willow
Oak in my journal, or email me one of your own stories.
|