March/April 2003

The full moon shone lazily through the drifting night clouds, casting barely any light on the boarded warehouses slumping along the empty streets. Through the dank alleys, an ebony shadow slipped unperturbed, defining the true meaning of discreet. For the skinny, jet-black cat, this was high hunting time. Any vermin she saw or heard she would instantly pounce on, swallowing the little creature in one satisfied gulp. Her amazing cat senses were on in full power, alert to the max. Even the faintest rustling would point her directly to her dinner. Suddenly, she stopped, waiting. An anxious mouse darted out of the rank-smelling garbage can, skittering into the deserted street. The cat silently followed, slinking along the ground, haunches poised and ready. She anticipated the pounce, right when that mouse stopped for just one second . . . SKREEECH! A roaring blow sent the regal cat flying through the air, and plummeting with a hard thump onto the cold, unwelcoming sidewalk. A searing pain instantly spread through her leg, and up her thigh, causing the stranded cat to cry out. Panicking, she tried to stand, but her useless leg slipped right from under her, settling in an unnatural position away from her body. Once again, she tried to flee; once again, she failed. A slamming car door echoed throughout the otherwise silent neighborhood. Heavy boots tromped over to where the woeful cat lay. The tip of one of the boots kicked the cat over on her side, none too gently. The ebony cat continued to lie there, scared and hurting. Two saffron, panther-like eyes stared solemnly back at Marda A voice sluggishly slurred with alcohol called back to a shadow in the car, “Jist anotha cat.” “Whatever. Let’s drive.” The boots receded, and the car door slammed once again. Squealing tires raced at an intense speed around the corner . . . gone. The cat was deserted; alone and forgotten. *          *          * Marda Adam wanted a cat. But as she stared through the glass panels of the animal shelter, none of them clicked. The kittens were adorable, batting their tiny paws against the walls of the encasement, staring up at you with their round, charming eyes. The adult felines were beautiful, grooming their furs, lying regally draped over their beds. But none of them were right. “Ma’am, may I help you?” Marda stuffed the car keys that she had been fiddling with back into her worn purse. She nervously tucked a lock of brown hair behind her ear. “Um, yes. Actually, I’m looking for a cat.” The volunteer gestured around her to all the cats in the room. Marda gave a strained smile. “No, well, you see . . . they just aren’t . . . right.” The volunteer brushed a stray cat hair off her blouse, which was decorated with smiling cartoonish felines. In a bubbly, experienced voice, she said, “Yes, of course. I can help you if you can tell me what kind of cat you want. Like, what kind you could cope with. For instance, would you prefer a hyper one or a calm one?” “Well, it’s for my son . . .” “Ah, is he very active, or does he like to sit on the couch and read?” Marda glanced anxiously down, then up. The lady looked on patiently. “He, uh, likes to . . . read.” The lady bowed her head. “Then I guess that would conclude that a calmer cat would probably be your best bet.” Marda nodded. “This way?” The volunteer turned, expecting Marda to follow. Marda obeyed. Down the smooth-tiled hallway there lay a door marked Special Needs. The volunteer pushed on the door, holding it open. Marda didn’t know what to expect. Special Needs? This ought to be interesting, she thought sarcastically. She had had enough special needs in the recent months to last a lifetime. She braced herself for what was to come. As the door swooshed shut behind her, Marda’s eyes darted around the room. Pairs of wide, unblinking cat eyes stared down at the newcomers from rows of permanently stacked pens. The worn cat beds vividly adorned with solid, bright colors made a meager attempt to lighten up the room. The volunteer brushed past Marda, beckoning her over to a cage. “This here is Bella. She’s a sweetie, aren’t you honey?” she cooed, pushing her fingers through the bars to stroke the gleaming white fur of the cat. Marda stooped down to look closer. “I don’t see what’s wrong with her,” she remarked bluntly. “She’s blind.” “Oh.” It was then that Marda noticed the glassy, almost colorless eyes. The volunteer straightened up, pointing to the cage on top of Bella, that held a large, tawny tabby. “And this big guy is Julius. He has heart complications.” And so it went. Two rows of cats with special needs went by, until Marda noticed a small kitty, nestled snugly into its worn bed. “What about this little guy?” Marda asked, stooping down for the umpteenth time. At the sound of her voice, the cat’s regal head was lifted quickly from its resting position. Two saffron, panther-like eyes stared solemnly back at Marda, contrasting with the feline’s rich, black fur. “That little guy is actually a girl,” the volunteer took her place beside Marda, “named Ebony. Or Ebb, as we like to call her. We think she had an owner sometime in her life because she’s so calm.” “I see.” “We had to have her left hind leg amputated, and we recently learned she tests positive for FIV. She’s had a hard time being adopted. I’ve seen people love a cat, and decide to take it home, only to change their minds when they hear the kitty has FIV.” “FIV . . . what exactly is that?” “Feline Immunodeficiency Virus. Kitty AIDS. There is a good-sized possibility she could live a long, healthy life though. Why, my friend has a kitty who’s practically twenty, and has FIV!” “I see,”

For most of my life, I have not had any pets. My brother and I are allergic to anything with fur. Then one spring, we found our first praying mantis, which changed our lives forever. For several more summers, we enjoyed playing with these unique creatures. One particular summer, a new batch of baby praying mantises was expected. Soon we found they had hatched. One praying mantis caught my eye. She was a female and was very large for a praying mantis. We liked her right away and named her Forget Me Not. I named her this because we will never forget her and this name was also the name of a flower. Although we loved all our praying mantises, Forget Me Not was our favorite. She grew so used to us that she would climb all over us. She was the tamest of all our praying mantises, and she and I formed a special bond. Melissa holding Forget Me Not Forget Me Not would climb willingly onto me. She was as light as a feather. Her prickly claws would stick to me when she walked on me. When she was on me, I could forget all my worries and troubles because I was in a world of my own. She was as green as a meadow, and as brown as a tree trunk. She would stare comfortingly in my eyes. It was like she was trying to tell me everything was going to be OK. Soon it grew to be mating time, and Forget Me Not mated. At the same time, it grew cold out. A few days later, we took Forget Me Not in the house, because we were hoping she would live longer. Amazingly, Forget Me Not laid her first egg case on September 11, which gave my family hope after this tragic day. We played with and cuddled Forget Me Not. Through our gentle hands inside the warm house, she laid three silky egg cases. Then she grew to be very weak. She could barely walk or lift her prickly claws. We saw pain in her sweet eyes. We played with her and loved her. With tears in our eyes, we realized there was nothing we could do for our beloved pet, except to love her. Soon she died in our caring arms. Even though we could not prolong our dear pet’s life, and we could not change Mother Nature, we will always remember Forget Me Not. Next year, we will have her children to raise. We knew from the first moment we saw Forget Me Not that she was special. She was so gentle, patient and loving. Forget Me Not will never be forgotten. She will always have a special place in our hearts. Melissa Merte, 10Wappingers Falls, New York