Seeing Into the Beast
Until recently, I haven't felt like adopting another cat. See, I had my cat, Kylin, for 17 years before he passed away, and he was definitely a soul mate, and I just couldn't bear to try and replace him. But suddenly, two days ago, I decided to check out a no-kill shelter, thinking I may take another one home.
Well, after I signed all of the paperwork, and the adoption specialist led me back into the rooms, I looked at about 40 cats and kittens -- all sizes and colors -- and there was a clear winner. There weren't two or three that I considered. Just one. Only one. He was black and white with a strange marking on his face that made him look startled, pained, and confused. I picked him up and man, he stunk, and his fur was dull, but he didn't mind being held, and he cried at the door when I left the room. I thought, It's him.
Well, feeling triumphant, I headed back up to the front to inform everyone (I got lost). With a huge grin, I announced, "I like Regis. I want him."
Wide-eyed, the adoption specialist stared at me. Then she looked at the floor.
"Regis," I said.
She stared at the floor some more.
I waited.
Finally, she replied, "Well, for starters, he urinates outside of the litter box. He has many food allergies and skin issues." Then she went on and on with all of his issues. On and on and on.
Apparently, out of 40 cats, I picked the one with the most issues. Of course, I couldn't adopt a cat that urinated all over and such, but I still thought hard about it, laughing to myself. As I walked out of the shelter, I realized that even with cats, I like the bruised ones...because a cat like that would keep it real. A cat like that would know how much love means in a life full of ridiculous, hard shit. A cat like that would understand that despite the strange facial fur and weirdness, the heart is what matters, because this life can be...damn...tough, and I knew he could take it.
He wouldn't mind a wrinkle.
A cat like that would know how to give to a warrior like me. Fuck yeah, bring it on.
Well, the search is still ongoing, but I decided to spend some more time with stinky Regis, giving him some attention. I doubt he'll never leave the shelter, unless someone with a barn gives him a home, but he sure gave me love on a gray December day, and the little guy reminded me of this: what if, instead of seeing the outsides when we looked at someone, what if we always, always saw the actual bare, raw soul instead? What if one glance at another human revealed all of his/her journey until now. What if each look showed what lies deep inside.
Maybe it is just so. If we really look.
I feel like I'm pretty in tune with my gut when it comes to studying other living creatures. Sometimes I ignore my gut, but later I think, I was right. I should have paid attention. When I look at a dog, I can tell if he's fierce or kind. Same with people. Sometimes, they emit a deep loneliness, a hidden anger, or a strange, fearful type of joy. See that man over there? His whole being speaks of lies. Sometimes, they show purity, depth, goodness, and strength. Sometimes, they give off a sense of serenity and confusion and pain, all...mixed...up.
I suppose it's possible to see into the beast. It's all in the eyes.
Happy New Year's Eve. I hope that you connect with someone's soul today and let it sink in. Some people would rather skim on the surface, and there's a place for that too, but I live for these deeper connections.
Maybe I didn't take little Regis home, but we shared some heart moments and a kiss, and that day, one bruised grape to another, it was just what I needed.
C.A. MacConnell
