Black

Mew, Mew, Dear Tissy, In keeping with the Milliken family tradition, here is my story, right at the end of the month. Mew. I hope you have had a chance to put up my sister Wallie's story for August also. It was her last story. Many purrs, BabyCat

Black, A working Cat

Not long ago I was asked to write an article about the cat I most greatly admired. This was no easy task, as I have met many admirable cats in my long life. Certainly, my dear sister Ariadne Precious is the first one who came to mind. She was 17 years old when my mommy first brought me home as a tiny little four-week old kitten. My wonderful sister lived only six short months after that day, but in that time she taught me all I needed to know to take care of my mommy and her household. And another kitty that immediately came to mind was old Russelita, the family cat, and a wonderful mother, who lived at the house when I first came here.

I thought of other cats too, including many cats that I have met and who have become my friends since coming to CLAW. I would err if I failed to mention dear Queen Midnight, who started CLAW, and who has given all of us kitties so many opportunities. And how could I forget my dear Prince Chazot who was a most noble and wonderful cat.
I must smile, for the list would be endless if I tried to mention every kitty I have met in CLAW and on the ‘net, but I will stop with those two.

Yet as wonderful as those cats are, not one of them is my Most Admired Cat. This title must go to another cat that I know. She is a cat so wonderful that she commands my greatest respect and admiration. Her name is Black. Not Blackie, or Miss Black. Just Black. I first met Black about 8 years ago, when I was a young and very sick kitty. I was 3 1/2 and I had been sick with a respiratory problem most of my life. I had been to the vets over and over, but still the problem lingered. Until one night...

It was a night I will never forget. Mew, I must have used up half of my nine lives! It was the night the respiratory problem became a crisis, and I almost stopped breathing. My mommy almost stopped breathing too as she held me close and her sister drove us at breakneck speed the 30 miles to the Pet Emergency Clinic.

Although I was too far out of it to really know what was going on, I remember spending a long time in a cold white waiting room, with a light that was too bright. I remember feeling my Mommy's fear as she clutched me. I remember the taste of fear in my own mouth. Finally we were ushered into a dim room where a vet poked and prodded me and gave me several shots. In the back of mind I could hear other cats, and dogs, and even a rabbit that were also very sick. And I knew that some of them would cross the Rainbow Bridge that night, in that cold dark place. I was very scared. Thankfully, the medicine the vet gave me helped me to breathe better, and helped me to sleep also, and my mommy took me back home.

The next morning she took me to a new vet. It was a very pleasant place, all bright and sunshiny and happy, but after the experience of the night before I was in no mood to appreciate my surroundings. I was not a very happy BabyCat. I was sitting there on the counter while Mommy filled out papers, when suddenly a big black cat jumped up. She pawed over and looked at the papers, and then she came over to me. Well, delightful me, I just hissed and growled at her as best as I could. Fortunately I was too sick to be as nasty as I felt. But she paid it no mind. Instead she sat down facing me and purred! "BabyCat", she said. “That is a nice name. My name is Black."

"How did you know my name?" I stammered.

"I looked at your chart," she replied.

"Oh." Now she had caught my attention. "But why?" I asked.

"Well, you see," she replied, " my sister Princess and I work here in the office. We greet all the new patients that come in. We take care of the Doctor and the staff, and sometimes we donate blood to very sick kitties when they need it. We are what you call 'working cats'."

"Oh," I said again. And by this time I actually felt a bit better. She seemed a very pleasant kitty, and listening to her purr was soothing. She then introduced me to the new vet, who turned out to be a very nice human like my Mommy. I decided that I liked her very much. She gave Mommy medicine for me and sent us home. And I am happy to say I was soon well.

Over the next few years, I got to know Black and her sister Princess pretty well, and we became very good friends. This came about from regular visits to the vet as well as other occasions when I spent time there at the office. When my mommy was traveling or on vacation, she often boarded us at the vet’s office. This was not as bad as it sounds. Actually it was really quite fun. We had wonderful times playing together, and talking to the patients as they came in.

I preferred staying in the nice comfy cage I was in, but my little sister Shadesie loved getting out and playing with Black and Princess and the vet’s two tiny little dogs, Alice and Squeaker. During these stays I spent many happy hours talking to Black, and I found that she was really a wonderful kitty. I loved the way she helped around the office and generally kept things running smoothly.

Well, the last time I saw Black was just a few weeks ago, when my dear sister Wallie Miranda was sick. This is when I finally found out what she meant by "donating blood". I went with my Mommy to pick up Wallie, who had been at the vet’s all day and who had had a transfusion. When we arrived, Wallie was sleeping, and to my surprise, there was Black lying in a cage next to her looking like she too was dead.

"Mew" I said to the vet, "what is wrong with my friend Black?"

"Oh, she’s alright," the vet replied. "We just had to knock her out so she could give Wallie blood."

I looked at her lying there looking so helpless and vulnerable and I thought to myself, "Black, you don't have to do this. You could be up helping patients, or out chasing mice, or just anything. But there you lie with your very life force flowing out of you and into a very sick kitty. Why?"

Well, I knew why really. It was because Black had dedicated herself to helping sick kitties in any way that she could. She was even willing to give her life for them. It was then that I truly realized how much I admired and respected this remarkable cat that I called friend. She gave the word friend a whole new meaning. Just before we left, she awoke and gave me a weak smile. Mew, I threw my paws around her furry neck and hugged her and said, "Thank you, thank you, Black, from the bottom of my heart."

She just smiled and said, "That's ok, BabyCat. It’s all in a day's work."

All in a day's work! Mew, that gave me something to think about. I knew that I could never do a job like that.

My dear sister Wallie Miranda crossed the Rainbow Bridge that night. And Black? Was she upset that she could have easily died too? No. Black didn't mind at all. She never stopped to ask, "Why do I have to do this?" She never said "I don't feel like doing this today. This kitty isn't going to live anyway." No. Dear Black just purred and smiled and laid her life on the line because it was all in a day's work for her. And she did it gladly with her whole heart.

I don't know if any of you other kitties know a cat like this or not. A working cat that is willing to give her all. But if you do, I hope you will take a moment next time you see them to say “Thank you.”

Purrs, BabyCat
September 1998


*This is a true story, written about my Vet's cat, Black.