February 2007

Dear Friends,

I am looking outside my window that frames a 21-degree morning and I still can’t reconcile that with the fact that less than 24 hours ago I woke up to the gentle sound of early rain sliding hurriedly down the greenery in my parent’s backyard that, by the time I “officially” got up, had dissipated under the canopy of an almost painfully crisp blue sky sprinkled with perfectly bleached clouds! Those are the contrasts and blessings you deal with on the island of Puerto Rico!

During my previous visit to the island, I encountered a situation that could have easily come straight out of a movie, particularly those that involve the rescue of unwanted animals. Puerto Rico is my homeland but it has a serious problem with satos (stray animals) and even though there is a huge number of Puerto Ricans who are aware of the problem and are doing their best to solve it, there are those that still feel it is acceptable to abandon a helpless animal in front of a supermarket (apparently they assume that since it’s a place where food is, someone will feed the animal). But even this is more “humane” than abandoning them on isolated stretches of roads where they will certainly end up starving to death or being hit by a vehicle.

Two years ago, I attempted a rescue mission that was like a scene out of “Indiana Jones.” It left me filled with regret and painful memories. I had offered to help my aunt Juanita find suitable homes for a family of cats (mother and babies) that had taken up residency in her outdoor closet as well as the group of adult cats whose numbers were spreading like wildfire. My trips to the Humane Society shelter were heartbreaking (it was overcrowded and chaotic) but nothing compared to the anxiety of rescuing these kittens. Thanks to a gentle soul, my dearest friend Carmen, they found a sheltering home. Still the trauma of the experience left me deeply hurt.

Fast forward to the end of 2006 on my first return to the island since these events. I am sitting on the porch talking with my mother, doing my laundry, when across the yard I see this wiry, almost starving kitten coming in my direction. My heart sank. “DO NOT GET INVOLVED!” screams my common sense. My conscience, on the other hand, dictates that I at least offer it something to eat (that way if I don’t see him again at least it will last him until his next meal). I had nothing to offer but I noticed he made a beeline for the dog’s food (“So, he’s not picky,” I think). What happened next was a hint of anxiety began to permeate the rest of my vacation. My unconscious was beginning to warn me that a decision would be REQUIRED within the next few weeks…I went upstairs and the small wiry kitten ran past me and…WAITED for me. A thin line of sweat broke out at the top of my forehead as I began to realize the implications. Later the kitten disappeared and I felt relieved. The next morning, I decided to look for him “just in case,” “only to see if he looks hungry,” “It’s not like I’m going to keep him…after all, I have two cats already.” I looked over the fence and I spied him sleeping on the red clay ground. He took one look at me and meowed with melancholy eyes. I could tell he had spent the night on the cold, wet grass. The next round of mornings were spent watching him entertain himself, chasing butterflies, small lizards, and batting pebbles and twigs from side to side. He seemed to especially enjoy jumping out of a shrub “ambush” style, landing right in front of my feet.

“PAST THE POINT OF NO RETURN” should have been burnt onto my forehead. Thereafter, every trip I took away from my parent’s home for more than an hour was followed with a call, “Hi, mother, how are you? By the way, how’s Chelo?” (I forgot to mention that I named the kitten after a Puerto Rican reggaeton singer who is very skinny too!) Everyone chuckled over his name, leading me to believe it was appropriate! To make a long story short, I decided that I had been doomed from the very beginning. An adoption at some point was inevitable. I had fallen in love with Chelo and was determined to protect him. Any cat who jumps on me at 4 in the morning scaring me to death and later wakes me up by nibbling on my toes, deserves my love and attention!

So now after a four-hour flight back to Virginia, Chelo has joined Ricky and Bola for a life every cat deserves. Somewhere from a corner of heaven, my titi Juana is smiling, relieved that the kitten she put in my way reached his destination!

Happy New Year to all of you.

Edwin