Special: Biffles' Tale

Special: Biffles' Tale


Cats never asked to be born. But yet, we are.

Everyday… every hour… and every second on this world; to which is not their fault. All animals require reproducing only because of instinct. And instinct is betraying domestic cats. Because of feline overpopulation, their lives are ending from human hands; whether from abuse, neglect or humanely from shelters; regardless lives are killed…

Everyday…

Every hour…

…And every second.

My first memories are vague, but my earliest recollection was being in a box with my sisters and brothers nursing from my Mother. My Mother was cared for by her family, but the humans didn't take the extra step into getting her spayed nor even keep her inside from harm. So the result, we were born.

But that's okay right? Everyone loves kittens! But when we got bigger and active as all young animals do… the humans were becoming tired of us so the family asked the neighbors and even strangers that passed by if they would like a kitten while holding the box with us mewing for attention. Some smiled at us, others didn't even give us a glance, but regardless of the reaction… they all ended the same… walked away.

It was then that someone saw the free kitten sign posted in the lawn and knocked on the door. The person looked in the box and picked me, since I looked like my unknown father, white with a silver tail and had blue eyes like my Mother. My siblings bared the traditional tabby and black coats. The person said I was special and chose me.

But weren't my sisters and brothers special too? I blinked them a farewell as the human carried me away; with me not knowing that the next day, my unasked for siblings remained in that box… that was placed right outside of an animal shelter.

Back at my new home I charmed my new family and they were delighted to pet me and watch me play. But as all kittens do… we grow up. My family too grew tired of me and my needs for attention and food became more of a nuisance to them, rather than love and responsibility.

Becoming a maturing adult and not being neutered I began to display natural male activities which made my human family very angry with me. I didn't understand why there were so mad? I was only doing what nature told me to do. But I soon found myself outside. When I tried to get in the house I was scolded and hosed. Soaked to the bone, I rushed off to parts unknown to me. But I did take one look back before I left… I guess I wasn't special.

Life outside as a Tom cat was and is... strenuous. Humans chase you off their property, so do dogs. Fighting other Toms every day for garbage, Queens and territory is so draining. But the years on the streets had made me tough. You have to be to live out here.

For those of you that read those: 'Warriors' stories about cats wanting to run free… must know that those stories could only be told by a human. Because… well… life outside is not the existence any cat would wish upon on any feline.

Being a stray is HARD. You are always on the move… Sometimes nature makes you so distracted, you almost get hit by cars! I have seen quite a few Toms chasing a Queen in season, only to end up motionless in the middle of the street. Males are always getting pummeled by another cat bigger than you.  I can't remember a day I groomed myself without the taste of my blood on my tongue.

As the years went by, I begun to grow exhausted from the life of fights and garbage eating. I found myself lying by the front of a quiet house trying to allow the sun to warm myself from the winter wind to no avail.

Some of my teeth were broken; I was covered in hidden scars beneath my fur, fresh cuts on my nose and ears from fights. Living in grit all this time made my white coat completely covered in gray. I gave up grooming months ago, not just because I was fatigued, but also it hurt to lick the stinging wounds and sore limbs from the constant running and battling. This harsh living (If one would call this living) caused my body to grow weak so in turn I had gotten sick. So all I had left was to fall into a dreamless sleep while telling myself I never would have ended up like this if I only was special.

I opened my eyes to human voices. I thought this home was abandoned like I was as it was even in a far worse condition as… I was. But here were its occupants staring down at me.

I blinked tiredly at the people and tried to stand up, desperate to get at least a bit of help, even a bit of food would do wonders; since I haven't eaten for some time.

Before I knew it I was in a box and heard loud rumbling for I was in a car. I was so relieved to be off the streets and mewed and purred to my rescuers. But they never looked at me or acknowledged that they heard my happiness.

It was then my joy went to disquiet as I smelled the air as I was carried in the building. I picked up scents of other cats and dogs. And yes it is true that animals can sense fear and despair. And this place yowled with it.

The people that found me told the animal shelter staff I was on their property and didn't want me. They only brought me to them so I wouldn't come back and make their unkempt home dirty. But I think they meant to say dirtier…

The shelter staff looked me over and said the shelter was extremely full and being an adult cat with a cold, my chances of getting out alive was slim. The people that brought me in responded with a shrug of their shoulders and then… walked through the exit.

For them, I wasn't their problem anymore… and that was all that mattered.

So for the next ten days I spent my time in a small cage. I was given food everyday which I never took for granted and a few shelter volunteers at the shelter petted me and tried to remove the dust from my coat. But despite this, I remained at a loss with myself.

The sadness of the shelter and my harsh existence was too overwhelming for me. I was withdrawn from the world. No one was coming for me. No one would want a bedraggled scarred sick Tom cat when there were young clean kittens at the shelter… so many more animals that were so much more special than I.

Only no one has been close to me and no one is very lonely.

Still lying idly in the cage unit of the isolation area of the shelter, I had heard humans conversing about the cat that was dubbed Biffles. Every animal that is turned in the shelter was given a name; if one did not come in with a title. And since it has been years I was living inside, I had forgotten my first name or if I was ever given one. But I began to recognize myself as Biffles since I often got food or some brief affection after it was spoken.

The staff said because I was withdrawn and not recovering well, I was on the urgent list. I wasn't sure what that meant but by the sorrowful tone of the humans that are so devoted into trying to save us homeless animals… my fate didn't sound so promising.

But I was now to the whiskers point of not caring of my outcome. I just ate and slept. I didn't want to do anything or wonder about anything. My anxiety had died along with my hope. I may never understand what I've done to be discarded by everyone but I guess that what's happens when you're not special.

One morning, I was awakened by someone opening my cage. I was a little surprised because I just ate and the volunteers usually come later to try to get me out of my somber state with their soft touches. Also the woman sounded new and she said my name. But I didn't care. No one wants a special-less animal. So why even bother to get up?

Despite my ignoring, I was picked up and placed in a carrier. I slightly wondered if I was going to die now. As I have seen many cats in isolation being put in a carrier by the few certain sadden staff members that smelled of desolation and death. But what my sore red nose could detect was that this human had no signs of these scented emotions.

Instead I saw the woman signing some papers and I heard the staff say to her,

"Thank you for fostering."

At that time I had no idea what fostering meant and I still laid in the carrier unresponsive as the car drove us to yet another unknown destination.

But to my astonishment I came to be inside of part of a human den. NOT back on the ruckus, cold, dangerous streets or a building filled with chaotic, confused unwanted animals. I was soon given a bath (Much to my dislike) but I became very grateful as my fur was never so clean in my life! The woman gave me fresh food, water, toys and a soft bed of my own! I met her other cats that came for brief visits and they looked very clean and content as I was now. I never thought I would be this happy ever again nor ever treated this kindly ever.

The woman told me that she was my Foster Mom; that meant she would look after me till I got better and could be neutered; so I would focus of being a part of a family and not add to the endless cycle of homeless kittens. She then promised that she would help me find a home of my own; I wasn't alone for she would stay right by my side on this journey. And it would be the last travel this Tom cat would ever have to do!

I showed my gratefulness with purring, kneading and head rubbing. I may have been a street cat for most of my life but expressing love is something we domestic animals will give out naturally when finally cared for.

As my Foster Mom dresses me with a new collar I gazed up at her with love but also with inquiry. Why, out of all the other cats in the shelter, did she choose me to save?

The woman picked up on my wondering and pressed her cheek to mine. I purred loudly as I read the answer in those gentle eyes…

"Biffles is special."

Special… That is what Foster Parents are; because people are what they love.