A place of dreams

Jennifer Vanderau
Cumberland Valley Animal Shelter

(7/2020) When I was first let inside the house, I thought I’d hit the big time. The people that had been leaving food outside for me smiled, opened the door and I walked inside. I slept in a bed for the first time in my whole life.

I didn’t have to dodge cars, didn’t have to scrounge for food. I was warm and sheltered. They gave me a bowl of water and food and kisses and hugs. It was like a dream come true.

That was in the beginning, though.

Time, I guess catches up to all of us and I think the novelty of having a cat and "saving a life," as they told everyone in those first few days, kind of wore off.

See, because I'm a cat, I like to keep myself groomed, and that includes sharp claws. I learned how to scratch up my area outside, so I could let other cats know what’s mine. It’s a territorial thing and I figured since I finally had a home, I could start claiming it.

I’m just really proud of what’s mine, you know?

The people didn't like when I used the furniture, though. They'd yell and scream and get real mad and I felt kind of bad – I did – but how else could I let people know what was my territory? That the house and family belonged to me?

When they took me to the vet, I thought it would be a routine visit, even though it seemed like an odd time to have one. When I got home, my front paws hurt so bad I almost couldn't stand it. It felt like part of my toes were missing, but that didn't make any sense, did it?

Over the next few days, I realized it did. I had been declawed. I guess the people were happy -- I couldn't scratch the furniture anymore.

They would laugh when I still tried. They would laugh when I landed funny after a jump. They laughed a lot at me now.

I started not hanging around them much after that. I liked to keep to myself more. I had my own little spot under the corner of the bed in the guest room and that's where I'd stay most of the time.

I don't know, I guess I just didn't want to socialize anymore. It was okay. No one really came looking for me.

Two days ago, though, the people did the strangest thing. They found me in my spot in the guest room, picked me up and put me on the back porch. When the door shut behind me, I figured this was another thing that humans found funny.

I thought they'd have a good laugh, open the door and let me back in.

But that didn't happen.

I've been outside for two days and I'm starting to get pretty scared. I’m back to worrying about the strange noises at night. It’s made even worse now because I know I can’t defend myself with my messed up front paws.

I don’t sleep at night. I can’t fall asleep. I miss my spot under the bed.

I'm pretty hungry, too. I'm sure if I wait long enough, they'll put some food out for me. I have to say, my food bowl was never empty when I was in the house.

They seemed to care that I had food when I was inside. Surely they’ll do the same now that I’m outside, right?

Last night, just before it got dark, I noticed a truck in the driveway and the people filled it with all kinds of stuff – the furniture that I couldn’t scratch anymore, boxes and suitcases. After a while, it clicked.

They were moving. They put me outside and they’re moving. Without me.

There’s a pain in my chest. I think my heart’s breaking. I didn’t know that could manifest in a physical ache.

I don’t see them again after that. The next day a lady puts a sign up in the yard. I want to meow to get her attention, but I’m too scared. What if she’s mean?

I wait another day and I’m so hungry, it’s panging in my stomach so when the lady comes back, I make a sound. She finds me in the corner of the back porch and her eyes are kind. I take a chance and walk out to her and she takes me to a place called the animal shelter.

The people there give me time to trust. They’re gentle with me. They make sure I’m healthy and give me really yummy food and let me rub against their hands. The people who clean my cage in the morning hold me and snuggle me. It feels good.

I heard one of them say it was a real shame that my people declawed me and left me outside.

Maybe the shelter people really did understand how much it hurt.

Maybe I finally found a place where someone might care about me for more than a few days.

Maybe this place, this Cumberland Valley Animal Shelter, is somewhere that dreams really can come true for animals that need help like me.

Could there be someone out there who would love me, even with my messed up paws and broken heart?

Could it be you?

*****

Jennifer Vanderau is the Director of Communications for the Cumberland Valley Animal Shelter in Chambersburg, Pa., and can be reached at cvasoc@innernet.net. The shelter accepts both monetary and pet supply donations. For more information, call the shelter at 717-263-5791 or visit the website www.cvas-pets.org.