They say every pet resembles their owner in some way and every owner resembles their pet in some way. As a professional in the animal industry I know more than anyone that this is true. It’s even true for me. You can’t avoid it, trust me, I’ve tried. Every pet will take a part of you and you will take a part of it. We naturally try to find commonalities with the people and animals in our lives, we even do it when buying random things like furniture. No matter how hard we try nothing is truly a logical decision, everything is energy and everything will trigger some sort of emotional response. As I sit here typing this my personal cat, named Coconut, is curled up next to me taking a very comfortable looking nap. How am I like her? How did everything play out so perfectly for me to find this little white cat with her unfiltered, unconditional love and imperfections? The bond we have is almost magical, anyone who witnesses it can testify to that. We both have had a lot of trauma in our lives and are very misunderstood but no matter how hard things have been we still find a reason to love life.
When I first met Coconut she was living with my boyfriend’s (now husband) family. I never really saw too much of her, all I knew was that she avoided most everyone and they called her “Baby Kitty” even though she was an adult. Every once in awhile I’d see a little flash of white fur run from the food bowls to the couch where she had laid claim. I never really thought too much about it besides wishing she was more social. I have always been an animal lover, from a very young age. I can pick out an animal every where we go and there’s yet to be one I don’t like. One day I was told that my future in-laws needed to get rid of their cats, but they couldn’t catch “Baby Kitty”. I being a professional told them I would help and I would take her to the shelter for them. At the time I was pregnant with my daughter and my husband and I already had a dog to take care of in our little apartment we shared with his brother. Taking her was not an option at the time so I knew I needed to get her to a shelter where she could find a forever home. We arrive at the house and we go to her notorious couch. I start digging around blindly and hear the infamous wet growl, which tells me this cat is aggressive and will attack me. Being pregnant I had to put my child’s and my own health first, so I asked my husband to find the thickest gloves he could because he is going to be bit and we will also need a knife or scissors. He comes back wearing thick leather working gloves holding a military knife. I told him he needs to very specifically listen to me so this doesn’t end dangerously. I ultimately needed him to act as my surrogate body. I got the crate ready and the pillowcase to put her in to avoid getting attacked in transfer to the crate. I have him slice the couch open and sure enough she was deep in the arm of the couch. This cat was pissed and she was out for blood. We tried a few different ways to get a grip on her to move her but she would just attack and get further in the couch. I remember telling him to take a break. I looked at my future mother-in-law and my husband and told them that there is a very good chance that this cat will not be adopted and most shelters won’t have the time to rehabilitate her. It killed me to tell them that because as a professional I understood that this cat very well might be put down. After saying it out loud, I knew I needed to keep trying or else someone would start crying and it probably would be me, the overly sensitive pregnant woman. After many tries I finally see the opportunity to get her, but it would involve hurting her a little by grabbing her foot and tail just enough that we could reach her scruff to immobilize her. I had no choice, it was now or never, if we didn’t take this opportunity I wasn’t sure we’d get another. He grabs her foot and tail as she continues to make every warning and scary sound her body and mind can conjure up. l him to make the switch to her scruff very quickly because if he misses we fail. It works! We get her in the pillow case quickly and into the crate where she crawls out of the pillow case. She is beyond livid at this point with her face wet from all the hissing and stress foaming. I for the first time see this cat fully. She was an albino perma-kitten, very small and very skinny. You can tell she has completely stopped grooming herself but she was still beautiful with pure white fur and gorgeous big blue eyes that were set apart at the perfect distance. Her tiny pink button nose rapidly sniffing for danger as she breathes heavily. I start to tear up as I look at this cat and realize she very likely has no future but with how she was it might have been best that she no longer has to live so stressed and upset. I stand up and tell my husband that we need to go because it is late and I am getting tired, but that wasn’t the truth. If I stood there and looked at her any longer I was going to bawl. I felt something for her, I knew what it was like to only know a state of stress and to be terrified of the world around you even if there were nice people in it. It made my heart hurt for her and the trapped little girl inside of me. We put her crate in the back seat of our Civic coupe and start to drive. Our car was so small that the crate was touching my shoulder and all I could do was pray she doesn’t try to attack me or him while he was driving. All of the sudden I hear the strangest meow I have ever heard, it was cute in a ugly baby way, like a combination of a meow, ribbit and quack. Then I feel this soft tap my shoulder gently as if trying to get my attention. I look back at her and see this desperate little kitty who is pawing at me. Going against everything I have ever been trained to do, I follow my heart and gut, I put my hand through the black thin bars and pet her. Breaking the silence you hear this loud purring erupt. This was a complete 180. I look into her sky blue eyes and I knew I had to help her find a home, I couldn’t take her to the shelter, ultimately sending her to her death. This girl was thanking me and there was hope for her. Just like people did for me, I spent the next few weeks rehabilitating her, It was a very slow process. I was the only one she’d come to and even then it took a very long time to convince her to approach me. Finally after about 3 weeks I convinced her to sit in my lap while I pet her gently. At that moment I decided to name her Coconut, she was white so it made sense in that regard but really she was hard on the outside and truly she was extremely sweet naturally, It fit her perfectly. After two months bonding with her I decided I couldn’t get rid of her. I was her forever home, not my apartment but me. Home for her was wherever I was. Today it has been about 2 1/2 years since I took her in and she still follows me everywhere. She calls out for me and I call out for her until she finds what room I am in. I listen for her “Mah-mow” call for me whenever I get home. We are exactly alike. To know Coconut is to know me and vice versa. We have both lived our own personal hell and survived it. Through each other we continue to grow, learn to trust and love again. I can assure you that when you knock on my door her and I will look at each other, look at the door she’ll give a territorial warning growl, I’ll groan, she’ll run to her her couch like chair to hide and I’ll peek through the peep-hole wishing I could hide too. To be able to keep faith in life and live passionately is a hard thing to do but this little white cat of mine reminds me every day that I can because you never know when someone will step into your life and change it for the best. Mary might have had a little lamb, but I have a little white cat.
