Morgantown federal prison flourishes with nature, wildlife, feral cats and dogs. Over a month ago, a crazed-cat lover, who was just being released, rehomed 5 or 6 of the feral cats by collecting as many of the felines that would fit into his cardboard box before leaving the facility on the local Grey Hound bus. Having all these dogs and cats roam the campus continually remind me of my furbabies at home. When I came to prison over 11 months, Drew and I had four pups and one puff-ball cat. Sadly, one legendary pup, Hank, passed away in January and now the 22-year-old soulfully delicate Fred (a female cat) passed peacefully away on Thursday evening as a result of advanced stages of renal failure.
As the story goes, when Drew was 14 years old, he brought a pure bred Himalayan Persian home after school (or it followed him home or he purchased it from a local lady). The details are furry errr... fuzzy as to whether he stumbled upon Fred, but the tiny-packed kitten certainly caught his attention. The smash-faced purring machine with a velvety mane, brilliant eyes, and fragile frame captivated the adolescent Drew. Probably the runt of the litter, Fred had an affectionally docile and comforting presence. Drew named her Fred given the challenge of identifying the sex of young kittens since they mostly appear to be female until a few months of maturity. Drew thought Fred was a male kitten until biological developments would disprove his assumption. Yet, Fred's name stuck.
The average life expectancies of pure bred cats is about 15-17 years. Per norm, Fred defied all expectations. Unlike typical feline behaviors, Fred acted more like a purring puppy. She enjoyed the closeness of humans and dogs. It was common to see her cuddled with any of the pups at all hours of the day. She never clawed or showed any signs of moodiness, like so many cats do. She loved to be held and cradled. Although skirmish of new surroundings (probably the most cat-like attribute), she quickly adapted to her environment usually claiming dominance of a room. At one point, she had her own bedroom, her own tiny kingdom.
Pets come and go throughout our lives, but certain ones really make a powerful impact. At the loss of a precious furball, I'm reminded of the damage control that I had to fix after a parish priest told a classroom of 1st graders that animals don't have souls and definitely don't go to Heaven. No one is certain if animals have a soul or if they go to beyond realm, but I do believe that the goodness and love that pets express are mirrors that of the Divine in presence and in pure love. Fred made this impression, which is why I'm taking the time to share a few aspects of this incredible cat's life. Fred was a runt with an incredibly docile presence. I will miss her one snaggle-tooth (since all other teeth had been extracted over the years) digging into the crux of my arm as she would rest and dream. I will miss her "kneading dough to make bread" pats on my chest in effort to make her bedding more comfortable while waking me from deep slumber. And towards her elder years, I will miss her nightly random cries for attention and for alerting the household that bedtime was nigh. She lived a long, healthy, and spoiled life and gave even more back than she received, especially from her tiny 4-pound frame. I'm not a cat-person, but Fred certainly taught me to not be biased since not all cats are created equal - some are exceptionally superior, like Fred.
Again, these moments of not being able to be present for family and friends and furbabies present the daunting reality of how prison challenges my inner core. A grave lesson learned much too late. I appreciate your patience as I take this opportunity to share some incredible highlights of Fred, and her astounding 22 years of lifegiving love. Please continue to look for little miracles in your daily life! 🙂