Scrappy's Big Adventure

He sits by the patio door looking out at the farm cats on the porch. Once in a while he scratches his paw on the window, trying to catch their attention. His ears perk up as he hears them bickering with each other outside.

Scrappy wonders what it would be like to be out there with the farm cats.

After all, he used to be one.

Separated from his mother as she coyly moved her litter from the back of the barn to the front of the house, he spent the cold, dark November night crying in desperation. Longing to find the warmth and comfort his mother’s thick fur coat offered, he scrunched his body tightly into the corner of the window well, slightly protected from the impaling winter wind. Disoriented and literally lost, his cries went on into the night.

Until I tucked myself into bed for the night, pulled the warm quilt up over my chin and reached over to flick off the lamp.

It was at that precise moment of silence, in a house that had went to sleep for the night, that Scrappy’s cries could finally be heard.

I crawled out of bed and grabbed the flashlight from the drawer. Slipping my feet into my boots and throwing on my winter coat over my robe, I headed out the door. As I rounded the corner of the house, a gust of wind blew a swarm of leaves into my face. I pulled my hood up and held it tightly around my neck. Holding the flashlight in the other hand, I pointed it into the well below my bedroom window.

Picking up the little kitten and tucking him inside my jacket, I quickly ran back to the house.

This little yellow and white ball of fur quickly became my Scrappy little cat, the cat who I rescued from the throws of another impending Wisconsin winter.

With the snow gone and the sun shining brightly, yesterday Scrappy wanted to go outside. He wanted to explore. He wanted to check out those cool farm cats he was always gazing at through the patio door all winter long.

So I let him out.

Eight hours later, as the sun began to set and the cold March air returned for the evening, I began to call for him. And call for him.

There was no sign of Scrappy.

Not that I was worried, after all – he was just a cat.

And cats love to be outside. And explore.

But it was a little chilly for a cat with no winter coat.

It wasn’t long and the morning sun was peeking in my bedroom window. I got up to make myself a cup of coffee. As I walked past the patio door, who do you think was there?

Scrappy.

I opened the door to greet him, but he dashed right past me to his dish. Lily, our veteran house cat, immediately bounded into the kitchen to see what the ruckus was all about. Right away, Lily put her nose into gear, checking out something different about Scrappy.

He smelled different.

Like outside.

She looked at Scrappy as if to ask, “What was it like out there?” She wanted to know, “Did you have fun?” Still uncertain, she pressed him for more answers, “Were you scared?” “What did you do?” “Are you going back outside?”

Scrappy, truly exhausted from his big adventure and subsequently all the questions Lily was bugging him with, jumped onto my bed and slept the rest of the day.

Yesterday Scrappy had a big adventure. But today he didn’t want to go back out.

He just wanted to sleep.