Mr. Angelscribe, was not raised with pets. His fastidious mother called them “flea bags” and that was the end of any conversation. The first thing his siblings did when they left home was adopt pets. At the time, my soon to be groom was living in an apartment where animals were forbidden, so his pet status remained intact, until he met me.
How did we meet? He prayed on the three-hour drive to his new job and town, “Dear God. I am lonely and would love to meet someone who is kind, genuine, and special.” (He had never had a girlfriend because he completed a four-year college degree in three and his last job was demanding.)
An hour later, we met. I lived in an apartment that allowed pets, so my two Silver Persians, Chanel and Camalot were great companions.
When the future Mr. Angel Scribe was moving his fish tank off the elevator onto our floor, I met him and so did the cats. It was love at first sight. The female cat, Chanel, was head over heels in love with him and his kind heart. Pure adoration floated out of her soft aqua eyes as she looked at him.
When I arrived home after work, she scooted out the door, sight unseen, dashed over to our new neighbor’s apartment door and sat there waiting for his arrival.
Shortly after, there was a knock on my door and there stood the new neighbor warmly smiling, returning his little love-struck mistress. Had Chanel chosen who she wanted as a Daddy or was she being our matchmaker like pets do in Hallmark movies and 101 Dalmatians? Because, not long after, I too fell in love with his gentle nature. We married in under 100 days of meeting. ‘Our’ cats attended the wedding reception.
We four purr-omptly moved into a house on a dead-end street in the quiet small town that rolled up the sidewalks at 5 P.M. After that, rarely a car traveled past our home.
One lovely summer evening, at bedtime, Chanel was across the street under the streetlight catching flittering moths. As we were preparing to go to bed, we heard the rev of an approaching vehicle’s engine, tires drive off the road and hit gravel. My new husband and I both had a “that’s wrong” gut feeling, so he went out to check. He found Chanel dragging herself across the road onto our driveway. He gently carried her inside and we phoned the veterinarian, but in a tiny
town, it was closed.
We settled her in a box on our bed but she climbed out and jumped off the bed. To stop her from hurting herself, her loving cat Daddy set up camp in the middle of the living room floor with her water, food, and an improvised litter pan in the lid of a box.
He gently carried Chanel in her stretcher-box into the living room and lay on the red rug beside ‘his’ kitty. They fell asleep this way. When he briefly woke up, he found the injured cat had dragged herself, broken hip and all, out of the box, curled up next to him, put her paw on his arm and fell asleep like that until morning.
The next morning the veterinarian fixed her up, she quickly healed and became an inside cat. Her favorite Daddy built both our Persians a safe outside catio.
For a man who had never had pets or a wife he gets an A+. Over the following 45 years, he has been a great cat daddy to our many cats plus foster kitties. Chanel, Camalot and I were happy that he married us.
