When a Rescue Animal Chooses You

I’m a firm believer that rescue animals make the best companions animals.

There’s some debate as to how much cognition cats and dogs actually have. However, rescue animals seem to realize how awful their lives once were versus how good their lives are once they’ve found a loving home.

I would even go as far to say that they seem appreciative of their life in their new home.

And sometimes, rescue animals choose us more than we choose them.

My cat, Zoey, is a rescue cat in the truest sense of the term.

The first two years of her life, she was neglected and abused.

For the most part, she was thrown out in the backyard without food or water, left to fend and forage for herself. She also had to compete with other animals for whatever food and water was inconsistently made available.

Zoey had no veterinary care, no socialization, and no love and attention.

The people who had her initially got her as a pet for a teenage girl who wasn’t ready for the responsibility of owning and caring for an animal. Moreover, this girl’s father, Ralph, was losing a long, brutal battle with cancer. At the time, he had been in the hospital for two months. She was dealing with her sadness and anger by taking it out on anyone and anything around her.

Sadly, one of her main targets was Zoey. My sister was visiting this girl and doing her best to help her family, as Ralph was like a father to my sister as well. She was witness to the abuses Zoey suffered at the hands of this angry, grieving girl, who constantly threw things at her and kicked her.

When my sister reproached her for doing so, this girl’s response was, “I don’t care.”

If this wasn’t bad enough, the people who had Zoey were planning on moving out of state.

They did not plan to take Zoey with them. Rather, they were going to dump her at the pound.

“You know they’ll give her 48 hours to be adopted, and if no one gives her a home, she’ll be put down, right?” my sister told these people.

Their response?

“Oh well.”

Shortly after that conversation, my sister went over to their house one day, grabbed Zoey, and brought her home to our Mom’s house.

By then, Zoey was dangerously underweight, had mange, was covered in fleas, had a cough, and one of her front legs was swollen just above the paw. My sister took her to the vet who told her Zoey had a sprained wrist joint and an upper respiratory infection. And, given the environment from which my sister had rescued her, Zoey was lucky to be alive.

Despite finally getting care, attention, and regular feedings, Zoey still spent most of her first several days at my mom’s house hiding under beds and the couch, and refusing to let my mom or sister pet her.

Meanwhile, I was halfway through graduate school and had just come home for spring break. What’s more, my birthday that year coincided with my break.

As I was settling into my room, my sister told me the story of rescuing Zoey. As she was doing so, Zoey cautiously entered my room. I was afraid to move as I didn’t want to do anything to startle her.

What happened next, I never saw coming.

She walked up, sniffed my wheelchair, and jumped up into my lap. Cautiously, I began petting her, expecting her to bolt any second.

Instead, she laid down across my lap, purring. She seemed content to lie there and let me pet her.

My sister shrugged and chuckled. “Well, I guess she’s your cat now. Happy birthday.”

Zoey was the best birthday present I’ve ever received.

Mind you, it wasn’t easy at first. She had a lot of trauma from which to recover.

For the first several months she was in our home, she would close her eyes and pin her ears back when I’d go to pet her as though she was expecting to get hit.

It also took her a long time to warm up to my mom and sister, even though they only ever showed her love and affection.

She would cry incessantly at her food bowl as each mealtime approached as though she was afraid we were going to stop feeding her.

That was six years ago.

Since then, Zoey has become my little grey and white shadow.

My sister often jokes about how she was the one that rescued Zoey from the horrible environment she was in and brought her to a loving home, but somehow she chose me as her person.

She seems to want to spend most of her time where I am, regardless of what I’m doing.

And since the pandemic, I’ve spent a lot of my time working from home.

Zoey is a strong candidate for Empawee of the Month.

She helps me prepare lectures and grade papers.

She helps with the laundry.

She helps me with my writing.

And when she’s not helping, she loves to ride around on my lap and lie on my computer bag, which seems to be her way of offering encouragement and support. And when I’m exhausted and stressed out, she does this more frequently.

If I’m taking a break to watch TV, read, or play video games, she takes a break with me. And by that, I mean she sleeps on the foot of my bed next to me...

...or finds a place to bask in the sun.

And when I go to bed, she sleeps on the seat of my wheelchair.

She has gone from being scared of everything to being a cat who welcomes visitors, often demanding they pet her once they sit down.

She’s the sweetest cat.

It breaks my heart to pieces that she was almost put down because she was uncared for, unwanted, and unloved by the people who initially had her.

I would urge you, if you can, to adopt a rescue pet. Moreover, I would encourage you to adopt an adult animal.

So many adult animals go un-adopted, as many people seek out puppies and kittens. Older animals need loving homes, too, and they make for amazing pets.

Zoey was a little over two years old when I got her, and she’s the best pet I’ve ever had.

And, by adopting a fully grown pet, you, too, might find your favorite co-worker, your best-ever birthday present, and your best friend.

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