Chosen

There is something special about being Chosen. You have been preferred above others. You have been selected.

Some months back a little orange boy began regularly visiting our home. He started out in the front, traipsing back and forth along the window ledges of the bay windows of our kitchen. The Foundling Clowder would sit on the table at that window and watch with apt interest. Some would interact with this little orange boy by patting at the window or calling out to him.

When I would go outside to refill the food and water bowls, Arthur, as we named him, would pop off the ledge and start to dash away. Over time, he began to stay to the point Arthur wouldn’t leave the ledges. He would just do his biscuit dance and talk with me, still never getting very close.

Things happen when cats are outside unaltered and having to figure out territory – where is safe, who is safe, etc. Arthur struggled with some of the bigger tom cats that randomly showed up on our property. But eventually Arthur seemed to have found his stride and his safe space in our backyard.

He would spend his evenings and often part of his mornings lounging on our catio roof, gazing in the window to greet the Foundling Clowder or watch me at my television-computer. He would spend his nights somewhere on our roof protected but always coming when I stepped outside calling for him.

“Arthur. Arthur my love. Come. Time to eat.”

I would hear two different thuds as he made his way from one section of the roof to another to the ground. That would be followed by his meows telling me he was on his way. And then at our designated time of 2:30 every early morning, Arthur and I would chat as I served his squeezy treat, some crunchy snacks, and his wet food. Always the squeezy treat first!

We had our routine. Arthur knew my voice. He knew my call. He knew I would come out. He knew there would be food. He knew there would be a squeezy treat. And I knew he would come.

As time progressed and routines settled in place, Arthur and I had an understanding – talk, no touch. He would show me belly while rolling on the ground. He would sniff my finger as I put his squeezy treat on its plate. He would come near but not really close enough to touch. But, oh, how he wanted to trust.

I chose to wait. I chose to allow Arthur to feel safe, to show me when he might be ready.

One wee early morning, I decided to try. Maybe now Arthur would choose to accept my touch.

As Arthur did his biscuit dance past me, I reached out my hand to let it ever so lightly brush his fur. He startled a bit, looked at me, but stayed. Another pass with his biscuit dance. Another light touch. Then, THEN, he leaned a little! I spent probably fifteen minutes letting Arthur control the pressure and touch of my hand. By the end of that time, he wanted lovin’s. He knew what it felt like to be chosen, to be loved, wholly. He was chosen, just as he was.

Now, each time I go out, whether in the wee hours or during the day when he stays, Arthur asks for loves, more petting. We share more talking, more biscuit dances. We share time together. We share trust. We have chosen love. Chosen each other.

Tonight, well tonight was something new. Not all of these wee hours are kind and sometimes I am just tired and wanting to go back to bed for a little more sleep. I love Arthur, but oh how I longed for sleep. Tonight, though, Arthur was not interested in his food or crunchy treats. The squeezy treat, well who can pass that up?! What Arthur really wanted tonight was some love, some attention, to know he was chosen.

As I headed to go back inside, something in me prompted me to stay. Stay I did. I sat on the steps leading back into the master bedroom. I stayed still, quiet, soaking in the South Carolina humidity and the stillness that wafts about in the wee hours. I turned off my flashlight and stayed in the light of a nearly full moon. And Arthur stayed too.

Arthur kept coming close. He wanted more time with me, but we had never touched before outside of the gazebo where his feeding station is. Now I was sitting nearly at his level. This was new, slightly scary, but, oh, how Arthur wanted more time, more loves.

He made several passes, coming closer each time. Arching his back, giving me tail hugs, leaning towards me, but never quite sure. I had to resist the urge to just reach out and start petting like we would at the gazebo. Arthur wasn’t ready for that. So I did what I have learned to do – reach out and wait.

There! I felt that! I am chosen! He chose me!

Now that Arthur knew me in a new place was just the same as me at his feeding station, he found his courage. He chose trust. He chose love. He chose me.

I sat on those concrete steps with thorny vines poking me in the rear for nearly a half hour. Just spending time with Arthur. Letting him know he was chosen. I chose to spend my time with him. I chose to lose a little more sleep because Arthur was important, that moment was important. I chose Arthur.

It broke my heart a little when I finally had to tell Arthur I was truly heading back in the house. But I knew I was chosen and Arthur knew he was chosen. We had chosen.

How special it is to be chosen. So much time of feeling unloved, not chosen, to have moments like this and know you are chosen.

You, dear reader, are chosen. You are chosen to be a part of our lives, our journey. You are chosen to share in our story. You are chosen.

And we would make that choice every time!

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#Arthur #OrangeCat #StrayCat #CommunityCat #CatLife #LifeWithCats

#CatBehavior #BuildingTrust #CatsChooseUs #Patience #CatFriendship #Trust #CatBehavior #HumanAnimalBond

#KeepUpCreations #FoundlingClowder #FromOurCornerOfTheWorld

Every cat has a story to tell if we're willing to slow down long enough to listen. Thank you for allowing us to share Arthur's with you.

Stray Cat Trust