In 2001, three weeks after the World Trade Center collapsed, a tiny black & white piece of cat fell into my life. Working at Forest Hill Animal Hospital just off Poplar Ave, I’d made the rash decision to abandon college in Philadelphia and get a job as a vet tech. Not my worst decision, I wasn’t prepared for the level of dedication it takes to be myself. One day, a lady pulls into our parking lot with a Coca Cola delivery truck in tow. The driver opens the door and pulls out two crates placed together to make a box while The woman anxiously scurries to open the clinic door. We are waiting expectantly, more curious than concerned.
The woman plops her purse on the counter and and blurts in one giant exhale,”I’m Sandy Stovall Dr. Dixon’s client and this kitty was on the highway. Can you believe that!” Eyes wide, obviously flustered by the entire experience she pats her manicured brow.
Our front desk matron Julie picks up an intake form, “Okay ma’am. Let’s start with the name of your cat.”
Sandy snorts, “It’s not MY cat But when I saw it rolling around on the side of the interstate I just HAD to do something.” Gesturing at the delivery driver, “HE was kind enough to stop and help.” He smiles weakly and sort of shrugs a greeting as his hands are still holding the two empty crates together.
Unphased, Judy asks, “So it’s a stray?”
The woman looks at her perplexed, “It was loose on the highway,” she says plainly, “you have to help it.”
Judy sighs, “Let’s just take a look then,” waving at the delivery man.
“NOT HERE!” Sandy protests. “It scratched me all up before he was able to capture it,” exposing her bejeweled hands covered in tiny red streaks.
I look to the guy still patiently holding two not-small Coca-cola crates together and he shrugs with his face again. I look at the exam room doors and Julie interjects with in a smug monotone, “There are no rooms available. You have to go to the back.”
Leading the poor man toward the back where Dr. Mayette, our youngest veterinarian, witnesses the odd procession. Hearing that there’s a possibly angry cat with possible injuries coming out of Schrodinger’s cat carrier onto an unenclosed table, he immediately takes charge. Placing two techs on either side of the table he decides to don the thick leather hawk handling gloves and take up sentry opposite the unwitting Samaritan, preparing to personally wrestle whatever hell falls out of those crates. Confirming that everyone is ready, he gives the signal. We all inhale sharply as the Coca-Cola guy separates the containers. A tiny kitten not even one month old lands on the table, four legs splayed. It takes a full moment before we all laugh at the fuss. The wide-eyed tuxedo kitten with a pink stripe down her black nose just said, “Mreow?”
Scooping the kitten up with one hand, I notice one paw is floppy. Closer inspection shows she’s paralyzed in her front right foot but not the entire leg. Otherwise healthy, she’s dubbed lucky to have survived if even half of what Sandy reported is true. Naturally she showed no interest in adopting the kitten, having vacated once we left her immediate presence, content with her level of good deed for the day. When Dr. Dixon returned from lunch he said the nerve damage in her leg might be temporary. We told me we could give it a couple of days but, “no one wants to adopt a kitten with a bum leg.”
Completely indignant at the thought of such casual cruelty I immediately protest, “That’s horrible! She’s a perfectly fine cat regardless of the foot.”
Dr. Dixon eyed me knowingly, “Are you gonna take her?”
“Maybe I will,” defiantly.
Arguably, that’s the moment I chose to keep Maya. Less than a week later I’d named her, the surest sign that you’ve adopted an animal into your life. She grew quickly and loved only me for most of her life. When my first roommate spent all of our rent money on drugs and I had to move immediately, Maya is the reason I couldn’t move back into my parents’ house. Her leg did become an issue but by then I’d hinged most of my sanity on her company and had the money. She’s the reason I didn’t die on many occasions. She’s gone now but I still talk to her. She was the only creature left that truly knew me and very few people in my current life even know she existed. I hope to get a large tattoo commemorating her because I could look at that pink stripe every day.