Musings…

“Aw, poor thing!” That’s the one phrase I hear most often when I tell people about Wonder. “That poor little guy!”

In all of the three months that I’ve had Wonder, never once I have I felt sorry for him. That may sound disgustingly cruel, but before you tar and feather me, let me explain.

I do, of course, feel terrible about what Wonder went through as an infant. Some soul-less, evil, pieces of garbage felt the need to remove the eyes of a sweet 5-week-old kitten. The very thought that my little boy had to go through that makes me sick. And angry. I would love to find the person or persons responsible and ask them what in God’s name they were thinking. What was the thought process on that? “Hey, Billy, you know what would be swell? If we gouged the eyes out of a kitten!” “Dude, that’s awesome! Let’s go!”

But the good Lord was looking out for little Wonder. Wonder was found, named, cared for, loved. When I saw his face on Petfinder.com, I instantly fell in love with him. I knew that he was the kitten for me! It’s hard to explain the feeling, the feeling you get when you know, know, that something is supposed to happen, that someone is supposed to be in your life. Two weeks later, I made the 13-hour trek to Nashville, and the subsequent 13-hour trip back home, to pick up the Wonder Cat.

As my friend and I walked up the front porch of Wonder’s foster home, I had a very brief bout of panic. I had never seen an eyeless cat before. What if it creeped me out? What if an eyeless cat bothered me so much that I was unable to take him home? But when we went inside and he came into the room, I melted all over the floor! He was so friggin’ cute! (And he still is.) He wasn’t too keen on being held; he had lots of playing to do and I was interrupting. He was mildly affectionate, again because I had disrupted his playtime. But I loved him even more!

On the long ride back home to Maryland, Wonder was great! He was quiet and slept most of the ride. But somewhere around the tenth hour, he’d had enough. With my best friend at the helm, I took him out of the crate and held him. He must have thought he was in heaven. He snuggled, nuzzled, and kneaded my neck, which he still does. He stretched out and slept on my lap for the remainder of the trip, purring his little behind off the entire time. He was then and is now the biggest love!

And because I see this sweet, affectionate little lovebug every day, it’s very hard for me to feel sorry him. He rages around my apartment like a fool, wrestles with Lola every day, and leaps across the room because he can. If it wasn’t so obvious that he’s blind, a casual observer wouldn’t know that he even was blind! Why feel sorry for this little guy? He has an endless supply of toys, three towers to sleep and play on, and a steady supply of Pounce treats. Life is good!

I guess it’s all in what you’re used to. To me, he’s a regular guy! Nothing gets in his way. Truly, nothing does. If he wants to sleep with me on my bed, he’ll push Pixie, my other blind cat, out of the way. “That’s MY mommy and I want to snuggle. Excuse me, please!” He has no fear, and he has no reason to. Sight is a sense that he’s never experienced. As far as he knows, life is everything it should be. He’s the happiest little dude all the time. And with the good Lord so clearly looking after this guy, Wonder is sure to be happy for much, much longer.

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~ by Rachel on January 30, 2010.