|Our One-Eyed Cat|
A year ago, we brought home a sick cat with one eye. Remember how he didn’t purr, and then, after months of loving him, that deep, rich purr flowed out of him? We tell the story of “How Jack Got His Purr Back,” and we stay inspired to love what seems unlovable. I mean look at him: one eye, an injured mouth, and a tail that doesn’t hang right. He’s a mess. He’s falling apart.
But we fell in love with him.
Two days ago, our strange little cat looks at us and makes tiny, almost indiscernible yelping sounds. Then they seem to get louder. Then they turn into these little barks.
“What’s Jack doing?” we all ask.
“I think he’s trying to meow,” my husband says. And then it happens. He stands before us in the kitchen, regal and proud, and lets out his first full meow.
The One-Eyed-Cat that nobody loved and who couldn’t even purr is now meowing.
It took a year of love, and by golly, that cat found his voice.
Living with flair means I don’t give up on people. I don’t give up on myself. It may take a year to find your voice. It might take longer. But here, come sit beside me.
My one-eyed cat’s meow came at the right time. I’m impatient with my children, my students, and even myself. Sometimes people are a mess. They fall apart. But stick with them; their voice is in there somewhere.
So Jack found his meow. And now, he’s tired of me taking pictures of him. This photo definitely says: OK, stop now.