BELLA

Cats are intended to teach us that not everything in nature has a purpose. 

- Garrison Keillor

I was in Denver one Mother’s Day (2008) visiting my daughter Danielle, and had a $100 bill burning a hole in my pocket - a gift from Skip. “Anything you want to do with that money is OK by me,” he had told me. Wonder if he regrets that statement now? It wasn’t 20 minutes after I told Danielle of my new-found money that she suggested we take a 15-minute trip to the Dumb Friend’s League – their local humane society. (For the record, I detest that they call our animal friends “dumb.”) A couple hours later, and $100 poorer, we walked out with the sweetest looking Manx cat named Bella. Not too much was known about her except that she was dropped off by the previous owner. All I could think of was she was going to make a perfect companion for our 5-year old beagle Buddy. I just KNEW they would become the best of friends.

The ride back to Colorado Springs was uneventful. Bella never moved once inside her little kennel. The staff had advised us to confine her to one room in our house to allow her to adjust to her new space, so when we arrived back in Colorado Springs we put her in our guest bedroom with food and water and opened the kennel door. We stepped back and just watched. She laid perfectly still – eyes straight ahead – frozen like a petrified little statue. So we slowly backed out of the room and closed the door to give Bella some space to explore her new surroundings.

Later in the early evening we went down to the bedroom to check on our new cat. After searching the 12 x 12 room for nearly 30 minutes without seeing even a whisker, we decided she must have found the perfect hiding space. For a week we never saw Bella. Food was being eaten, water was gone each morning and she was using the litter box – but still no sign of this elusive animal. I mean, how does one simply vanish in such a small space? Then came the day that I opened the door, saw her dive under the bed and immediately disappear. She had found the perfect place to elude her captors – a tiny tear in the box spring bottom allowed her to crawl up inside and make her home.

After several weeks, we opened the door hoping Bella would enjoy the run of the whole house. Months went by and still she kept to herself in the safety of her home under the mattress. I called Danielle one night crying, expressing my thoughts of giving Bella back to the humane society. How could this precious animal possibly be happy existing like this. But Danielle suggested we give her till Christmas to adjust. We had already had her five months with no signs of her bonding with us, let alone being a “buddy” to Buddy! And all I wanted was to have a little cat who would curl up on my lap and be my friend! Patience, Barbara.

Well, that was 24 months ago, and I eventually got the cat of my dreams. It actually took until Christmas (8 long months) for her to venture into the rest of the house, and another 8 months before she’d allow me to touch her. To this day, she will not allow anyone to pick her up. Everything has to be on her terms, which is Ok by me. Today she sleeps in a chair right next to my desk when I’m in my office, walks back and forth on my keyboard begging to be scratched and petted when I’m trying to work, and the minute I sit down in my living room chair, Bella is up on my lap making herself comfortable. She's now by our side from morning till night. Skip keeps saying, “guess we should be careful what we wish for.” As for Buddy, well Bella has no love for him at all. This little demure cat rules this house, and our sweet beagle gives her lots of space. I’m glad we rescued Bella – she’s been well worth the patience it took to incorporate her into our family. But I often wonder what kind of life she had before to make her so fearful of life. I so wish she could speak…