by Patricia Fry
“Probably. We’ll see how it goes.” Savannah put her hand on his arm. “Oh, would you get a couple of pictures of us? I think she’d like that.”
“Sure. Come on Lily, let’s get your jacket and a book. I’ll read you a story while we watch Mommy.” However, before Michael could leave the room, Rags suddenly roared in from the hallway and stopped in front of him.
“Heavens, Rags, what’s wrong with you?” Savannah asked, when she noticed him dancing around and meowing loudly.
“Yeah, that’s odd behavior,” Michael agreed. He looked down the hall. “He’s probably upset because Marissa closed him out of the bathroom. You know how insulted he gets when he’s excluded.”
When Savannah noticed the cat run into the hallway, then stop and look back at her, she frowned. “Michael, he wants us to follow him. I think something’s wrong.”
She headed quickly in the direction Rags had trotted, and that’s when she heard a faint voice calling, “Ms. Savannah. Ms. Savannah.”
Stopping at the partially open bathroom door, she said, “Marissa?”
“I need…a little help,” the child said.
Savannah’s heart sank as she opened the door. Rags darted in ahead of her and stood next to the girl who was sprawled on the bathroom floor. “What happened?” Savannah asked breathlessly.
“Oh, I can be so clumsy,” Marissa said, disgustedly. “I guess I tripped over the rug or Rags or something and down I went. I’m sorry, but sometimes I need help getting back up.” She looked at Savannah. “…if you don’t mind.”
“Certainly, hon,” Savannah said, helping the girl to stand. “Are you okay? You didn’t hit your head did you?”
“No, but I’m sure I’ll have a bruise. I always seem to have a bruise or two.” When she saw the worried look on Savannah’s face, she added, “I’m okay. Really. My legs just don’t always do what my brain tells them to do…know what I mean?” She stood in place for a moment before saying, “Good as new. I’m ready to ride now.” She reached down and petted Rags. “Did he come and get you?”
“He sure did. He was frantic that we follow him.”
“Good boy,” she said. “He’s like a therapy cat. I’ve seen therapy dogs on TV. They know when someone needs help and they go get it. Pretty awesome, isn’t it?” She thought for a moment before saying, “But I never heard of a therapy cat. Rags is different from any cat I’ve ever seen.”
“He sure is,” Savannah said supporting Marissa a little as they walked slowly back to the living room. “You know, he was a therapy cat in a children’s reading program last year.”
“He was?” she asked. “How did he do that?”
“He just sat with the children and listened to them read. Pet therapy is a way to help slow readers gain more confidence. They read more and begin to improve.”
“Awesome,” Marissa said.
“He also sometimes helps the sheriff’s department solve crimes.”
“He does?” Marissa said, her brow creased in disbelief. “Does he have a badge and a bullet-proof vest?”
Savannah chuckled. “No. But he does have a certificate of appreciation from the department and he was featured in a documentary.”
“Wow!” Marissa said, reaching down and running her hand along the cat’s fur as he continued to walk next to her. “He really is special, isn’t he?”
****
“This is so much fun,” Marissa said from atop Peaches as Savannah led the mare around the exercise ring. “I’ve always wondered what it would feel like to be in a saddle. I like it. I like it a lot. Makes me feel like a real cowgirl.” She grinned and hollered, “Yeee hawww!”
Both Savannah and Michael, who had walked out to the exercise ring with Lily, laughed.
“Want to take the reins, yee-haw cowgirl?” Savannah asked.
Marissa’s eyes widened. “Oh, sure. Are those the reins?” she asked motioning toward the leather straps lying across Peaches’s neck.
Savannah nodded. She lifted the reins and handed them to Marissa. “Now, loosen them when you want her to go forward. You may have to cluck a little. Pull back slowly when you want her to stop.”
“Cluck?” she asked, laughing. “You mean like a chicken?”
“Yeah, something like that,” Savannah said, also laughing. She demonstrated a clucking sound and Marissa copied it.
“Oh,” she said, surprised when Peaches took a few steps forward. She pulled back on the reins and the horse stopped. She then looked at Savannah and Michael and giggled.
“What’s so funny?” Savannah asked, laughing.
“She understands chicken language. I think that’s funny.” Leaning over and holding her stomach, she continued to laugh.
“I think Marissa swallowed a feather,” Michael said, chuckling.
“What?” she said, looking confused.
“Well, something’s tickling your insides,” he explained.
She looked at Michael and burst out laughing again. As her laughter began to subside, the child took a deep breath. Smiling, she said, “I don’t remember laughing so hard in…a very long time.” She looked at Savannah. “It feels good.” She struggled to contain her laughter, then said, “Now if I can stop laughing long enough to cluck, maybe I can get her going.” She loosened the reins, but before she could make the clucking sound, she started giggling all over again. Savannah and Michael joined her in laughter. All of a sudden, they heard a definite cluck and Peaches started to move forward, throwing Marissa off balance a little.
“Whoa,” she said, pulling back on the reins. The child looked around. “Who clucked?”
When they heard it again, Michael exclaimed, “It’s Lily!”
“Oh, my gosh,” Marissa shouted. “That’s funny. Lily is making the horse go?” She said to the baby, “Okay, cutie patootie, let’s cluck together.” Marissa made a few clucking sounds, encouraging the baby to follow suit, and soon Marissa was riding the mare around the ring by herself, Savannah walking next to her holding onto the lead rope just in case.
“She can’t use her legs to nudge her along?” Michael asked.
Savannah shook her head, then said to Marissa, “It might help if you lean forward a little when you’re signaling for her to walk.” She smiled. “That’s right, see how she gets the message that you want her to walk out?”
“She’s sure smart,” Marissa said, patting the mare’s neck.
After walking alongside the mare for a while, Savannah unsnapped the lead rope and let Marissa ride around the small corral on her own. She’d ridden in a circle by herself several times when Savannah asked, “Want to take a tour around the yard?”
Marissa looked out over the railing. “Sure, I guess.” And Savannah opened the gate and walked alongside the mare as Marissa rode into the yard, through the orchard, and down the driveway.
They’d done the loop around the yard twice when Michael rejoined them, calling out, “Are you ladies ready for lunch?” As he drew closer, he added, “I heated up the macaroni and cheese we had for dinner last night and opened a jar of plums.” He addressed Marissa, “Are you hungry there, cowgirl?”
“Yes,” she said, excitedly. “What should we do with Peaches while we eat?”
Savannah laughed. “Well, let Michael help you down and we’ll take off her saddle and bridle and put her back in the corral to rest.”
“Thank you, Peaches,” Marissa said, hugging the mare around the neck. “That was so much fun. I hope you aren’t too tired after all that walking.”
“Want to brush her down?” Savannah asked when she returned from putting the tack away.
“Can I?” she asked.
“Sure. Stand here on the platform and reach over the railing. I don’t want you getting stepped on or knocked down.”
“She likes having her hair brushed,” Marissa said, her eyes sparkling. “Can I give her a treat?”
“Yeah, here, I brought this apple out for her. Just hold your hand flat so
she won’t think your finger’s a worm and accidently take a bite.”
Marissa giggled when she felt the mare’s muzzle on her hand and laughed while she watched her bob her head up and down, letting everyone know she was enjoying the juicy apple.
“Okay, let’s wash up and then we’ll have some grub,” Savannah said, mimicking a cowboy on a trail ride.
“You’re funny,” Marissa said, taking Savannah’s hand as they walked back toward the house. Before reaching the steps to the large wraparound porch, she leaned over a little, saying, “My sides ache from laughing so much.”
Savannah looked concerned. “Are you okay?”
“More than okay,” the child said, squeezing Savannah’s hand. “This has been such a fun day.”
“And it isn’t even half over,” Savannah reminded her.
“Where’s Lily?” Marissa asked upon entering the kitchen.
“I put her down for a nap,” Michael said. “She’ll be up pretty soon.”
“Okay, then I’d better wash up.” The girl made her way as far as the dining room, where she stopped and stared at the Christmas tree again, examining some of the ornaments. “Each time I look at it, I see something new,” she reported.
“Food’s getting cold,” Michael called out good-naturedly. “Don’t dillydally.”
“I’m going, I’m going,” she said, laughing. “Dillydally? Never heard that before.”
“This is real good,” the child said as the three of them sat around the table eating lunch. She looked at Savannah inquisitively. “You made these plums?”
Savannah chuckled. “Well, they grew on some of the trees out in our orchard and I preserved them so we could enjoy them during the winter when the trees are barren.”
“Oh, is that how it works?” Marissa asked. “That’s a good idea.” She thought for a moment. “I guess that’s why we have canned pears, corn, peas, beans on the shelf at the grocery store all the time—people think ahead and…what did you say…preserve them.” She examined one of her plums before eating it. “Interesting.”
Michael and Savannah smiled at one another, then he said, “Yes, it’s important to plan ahead. Marissa, do you have a plan for your future…a dream?”
“Oh yes,” she said, putting her fork down. “Lots of them, actually. I want to be a helper.”
“A helper?” Savannah questioned.
“You know, in a helping job—as a doctor, nurse, teacher, maybe. I want to be in a place where I can help other people.” She looked down at Rags and Buffy, who were sitting near her. “…or animals. Maybe people and animals.”
Michael turned to Savannah. “I’ll bet she’d like to volunteer at your aunt’s place.”
“What a wonderful idea,” Savannah said, her face lighting up. “Marissa, my aunt and uncle run a cat shelter. You met her the other day when she was here entertaining Lily. They help unwanted cats and kittens find homes. They have volunteers who come in and socialize the more frightened cats and kittens.” When she saw the confused look on Marissa’s face, she added, “You know, get them used to being handled and cuddled so they’ll be happy living with people—like Rags and Buffy and Walter are.”
“Who’s Walter?” the child asked.
Savannah looked surprised. “Oh, you haven’t met Walter, yet? He’s our shy cat. He hangs out under a blanket on that plum-colored chair in the living room or in one of the bedrooms upstairs.”
“Oh,” Marissa said. “I want to see him. Maybe I can go look for him after lunch.”
Savannah smiled. “So do you think you’d enjoy doing that kind of work—socializing frightened kitties?”
“Work?” she said boldly. “Playing with cats isn’t work. Yeah, I’d love to do that.”
“How about after lunch we go over to the shelter. I heard they just got a new litter of kittens in.”
Marissa’s smile widened. “Sure!” She then frowned. “Where did the kittens come from?”
“Kittens and cats arrive at the shelter from all sorts of situations,” Savannah explained. “People find them living in Dumpsters, under porches, in fields, and they bring them to my aunt because they know she and her husband will take good care of them and find them forever homes.”
The child thought for a moment, then said quietly, “A forever home. That sounds so awesome. Everyone should have a forever home—especially children and baby animals.”
Savanna locked eyes momentarily with Michael and he noticed hers were brimming with fresh tears. He said under his breath, “If only children ran the world.”
****
Once lunch was over and the dishes were done, Savannah helped the child put on her jacket. “The cat shelter is next door. Do you want to ride over in the car or you can sit in Lily’s stroller and I’ll push you over there. Which mode of transportation would you prefer?”
“Oh,” she said sounding surprised, “would I fit in the stroller? That sounds kinda fun.”
“I can unlatch the tray and move it aside. I think you’ll be able to ride rather comfortably. Shall we try it?” Once they had her situated, Savannah asked. “What do you think? Comfy?”
“I feel like a princess riding in one of those…chariots. Yeah, it’s pretty comfortable. Are you sure you want to push it with me in it? I weigh more than Lily does, you know.”
“Not by much,” Michael said.
She winced. “Yeah, I’m working on that. I know I’m too little for my age.” Her face brightened. “But I ate a good lunch, don’t you think? And breakfast, too!”
“Excellent,” Michael said. “You have a good appetite. Do you always eat so well?”
She shook her head and looked down. “I eat what I’m allowed. That’s it.” She then smiled up at Savannah. “Let’s go, charioteer!”
“Wait,” Michael said. “I think I hear Lily. Let me get her up and we’ll walk over with you.”
“Okay, hon,” Savannah said. When she saw Marissa start to get out of the stroller, she asked, “Where are you going?”
“Oh, I thought you’d want to put Lily in her stroller.”
“No, no,” Michael said. “I’ll carry her. She’ll be just fine.”
“Or she can sit on your lap,” Savannah suggested.
“Yeah, I can hold her. That would be a fun ride.”
Minutes later, Savannah wheeled the stroller into the greenhouse-turned-cathouse at the Sheridans’ cat shelter. “Well, hello there,” Max said when he saw them enter.
Savannah lifted Lily off Marissa’s lap. “Hi Max, this is Marissa. We came to visit the cats.”
“Well, nice to meet you, Marissa,” he said, helping her out of the stroller.
“Hi.” She laughed a little. “Getting into that contraption was kinda awkward. I forgot to think about what it would be like to get out. Thanks for the help.”
“You’re welcome,” he said with a slight bow.
Just then, Margaret stomped into the cathouse.
“What’s wrong with you?” Savannah asked.
“Oh, there are more cat food recalls. I just can’t keep up with it all. I’m so irritated with manufacturers who want our trust and who can’t be trusted. It just throws me into a rage. How are we supposed to keep our cats healthy when the powers that be can’t get it right—when they’re manufacturing food that’s tainted? I’m not even sure what we feed them is good for them anyway—if it is, why do so many cats get kidney disease and other maladies?” She thinned her lips and added, “Plus, I can’t find my glasses…AND, I broke a damn fingernail.”
Suddenly, Margaret heard a melodic voice and turned abruptly toward it. “Hi, Ms. Maggie.”
“Oh, hi Marissa. I didn’t see you there. How are you? Come to see the kitties?”
Marissa nodded. “You have so many. It must cost a lot to feed them all. Why are they in cages? Did they do something wrong?”
“Oh no, it’s to protect them,” Margaret said, smiling. “…to keep them safe.”
&nb
sp; “Where did they come from?” she asked, wide-eyed.
Margaret thought for a moment, then said, “Each of them has a different story and we hope to give all those stories happy endings.”
“Like all us children who live in my house,” Marissa said quietly, “we all have different stories, too.” She looked up at Margaret and then Max. “I’d like to hear some of the kitties’ stories.”
Margaret gestured toward a large orange cat with an unusually short tail. “Well, this big guy here, he lived in a barranca over behind the old lumber yard probably for a very long time before someone decided to catch him and bring him to us. A family may have moved and left him behind or someone could have taken him to that location to be a mouser—to catch mice. When he’d done his job, they just decided to let him fend for himself. He has known people. He isn’t afraid. But no one has cared about him for a long time. He needs someone to step up and take him into their home and heart.”
Marissa moved closer. Peering into the pen, she asked, quietly, “Can I pet him?”
“Yes, certainly,” Max said. “Come on, you can go inside with him if you want.”
Once Max had helped Marissa get situated on a cat tree in the pen, the cat walked right up to her. She sat petting him for a while, then leaned over and seemed to be whispering something in his ear.
“What did you tell him?” Savannah asked.
“I told him I’d pray for a home for him.” She looked up at Max and Margaret. “Do you think he’ll get a home?”
Margaret nodded. “Yes, there’s a real good chance that we can find him a home. We’ve placed seventy-four cats in forever homes this year.”
“Yeah,” Max said, “we wish it was more—lots more—but we can only handle so many kitties here at a time. Thankfully, there are other people doing the work we do, so there are lots of people helping. Still, too many cats are being dumped, abandoned, abused…”
“That’s sad,” Marissa said scratching the cat’s cheeks and looking into his eyes. She then noticed another set of eyes looking at her. “A kitten!” she exclaimed. She shifted her position and got a better look at what was in the adjoining pen. “Three kittens!”
