Maybe she is ok. Maybe not. The orange feral mama cat Who visited us regularly for months. Sometimes stepping through our front door just to see what it is like To be an indoor cat. But she preferred her freedom With her orange siblings? Children? Best friends? Three of them visiting daily. Ollie – probably Olivia we called her. And her friends Stanley and Junior. All orange. All hungry. All willing to be petted however briefly By my cat-whisperer husband. And then last week She wasn’t there. She may come back. The others have come But not her. Not yet. It’s been cold and rainy Outside and in my heart. How I loved this gentle wildling. How I pray to see her again. Perhaps she has found A warmer place Or better food. Who knows what is in the mind of a cat? The cat-whisperer says. But still I mourn for her. For the surprise of her visits. A little brightness in days Filled with pandemic And polarization. Something to remind me of goodness And gentleness And sweetness. Even if but for a moment. A lovely orange feral Bringing joy And love. And oh, the vulnerability Of loving something wild. Something that doesn’t want To be tamed. Something uncertain In an uncertain time. But now that she isn’t around I miss her. I weep for her. Knowing that God cares About sparrows and Feral cats More than even I do.
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