The Simble Life: The Day of the Kittens

It has taken me a while to share this post. It was written back in July, towards the end of my Pre-Service Training (PST). It can be so hard to be so vulnerable. But today, today I am ready. I am OK to bare it all. You see, for one reason or another, today I have decided that you love me. In the past I might have instead thought that you may find me interesting but perhaps odd, perhaps wish I was a different way. Or more likely, that you don't really like me. But not today. From now on you love me. And regardless of all of that, whatever you do feel is your business, and none of mine. But in my mind, yes, you love me as I love you.
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Monday was a strange one. It never ceases to amaze me the way that the Universe delivers messages....

I decided to take a different route to school for my Russian lesson. I left early so I would have time to check my email at a Wi-Fi spot near the town market and to look over my homework before class. I like to be prepared. But certainly we cannot be prepared for everything.

It was about 7:50AM and I spotted a small dog in the road. I spoke to him in the baby voice I tend to take on when talking to animals, as if they just might understand me. At the least it must be some way to convey that I am there to love and nurture and not harm. Well this little pup, though I thought was cool with me, decided to give me a little nip in the back of my leg after I had passed him. What? I whipped around, threw my hands in the air and said, “Ayyy! Pachemu?” (Russian transliteration for “why?”). He just stood there looking at me, wagging his tail as if nothing had happened.

A few steps ahead, I stumbled upon what I believe the Universe was “preparing me" for, a message my heart was ready to receive. Since I had already had my run-in with dog #1, all dogs and small things moving were pronounced and calling my attention. I quickly spotted another dog that seemed to be sniffing and pushing around with his nose a little bird of some sort. But wait…if it was a bird it would fly away. I picked up my pace. It was no bird but a very small kitten. And the events that unfold from here.

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I saw that the kitten was so small and figured it must have been born very recently. I shooed away the dog and began to look around, perhaps hoping to spot the mother. But something else had caught my attention-a sound. It sounded like crying…it was coming from the dumpster. Could there be more kittens in there? I bent to look more closely at the small kitten and noticed she was very dirty. I was a sort of afraid to touch her, what if she was sick? Could I get sick? But she was in the road and crying so I quickly swept her to the grass before heading to investigate the dumpster. I followed the sound to find another small kitten on top of the trash heap. This kitten was in much worse shape than the first. I saw some blood in its neck. This kitten was crying so loudly and trying so hard to move, “anywhere but here” it seemed to be calling. I agreed. You will die small being, anywhere but here. I found a plastic bag in my lunch sack and used it to scoop up the kitten from the dumpster and transferred it to a shady spot in the grass under a tree down the road a couple of meters. It didn’t cease the cry or to stop writhing. With legs that seemed broken, this little creature, so new to the world and yet so close to leaving, had no balance. The emotions which had been brimming like a cup about to overflow, came. My cup runneth over.

The other kitten, who was moving with some health but whose tail shook with the trauma of her situation, moved to my side and there she stayed. I cracked open a boiled egg from my lunch giving half to the healthy kitten and placing half with the dying kitten. Both tried to eat but the dying kitten soon lost the energy to try and the healthy one seemed to choose being close to me over the immediate nourishment. I began to cry. “It’s OK little one, it’s OK to surrender. It’s OK to go. Just close your eyes and be at peace”, I told the dying kitten. I began to pray, “Please God, take this small creature of yours into your hands and ease her suffering. Please let her feel your love and help her to surrender to the peace that is to come.” And the other kitten was climbing up my leg, desperate to have some protection, something to hold on to. Together we went to my bag for water to wash the sick kitten of filth and blood. How did this happen? The sick kitten cried as I bathed her and slowly she began to inch towards the plastic bag with which I had carried her. Her head resting inside the bag, and the healthy kitten curled upon my foot. I sang a bhajan I had learned at the ashram:Mother Ma

Mother Ma Mother Ma Mother Ma
Be with me, Be with me, Be with me, Be with me
Set me free, set me free, set me free
Mother set me free….

With one life passing, and another so fragile looking for some comfort and nourishment, somewhere to belong, I began to see the message.

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My parents moved from my childhood home on Sunday. They walked out the doors of the home where they raised their three children, one last time. They pulled out of the driveway where we played tennis and basketball, one last time.

In the dying kitten, as one life was passing, I saw my old life, and parts of my ‘self’ that were indeed, passed on. “Tell her it’s OK to let go…” And in the healthy kitten, I can see parts of myself now: healthy enough and trying to make it. Perhaps a little roughed up, a little naïve and scared, yet strong and capable.
As I departed from my childhood home in June, from the country where I have lived for 29 years, from my friends and family, one life passed. And as I prepare to swear in as a Peace Corps Volunteer in a strange land surrounded by new people and places, I will pray for nourishment and I will dole out all I have to offer. Surrendering to the cycle of life.

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I could see the sick kitten's breathing becoming less labored-slower, calmer. I picked up the healthy one, knowing I could not take her with me, that I had no more to offer her than this short time of love, and I laid her next to the sick one. In my mind they stayed together until the one passed. I quickly picked up my bag and walked to class.

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Sometimes the messages are harder to hear and sometimes they are loud and clear. The key is to listen. Can you hear?

I dedicate this post to the people of Moldova, whom I hope will take me in like the small kitten and whom I hope to nourish in return.