"The animals have no voice but ours..."

A Moment with Nadine

February 8, 2008
Jennifer Vanderau

So I’ve been having a rough month. I’ll tell you 2008 hasn’t started out too terribly well. It’s been troublesome. I wonder and marvel at how human beings can be so different that value structures are so vastly contradictory from one to another.

It’s amazing, as well as upsetting.

Well one day last week we had a few staff members have some problems in the icy weather and I helped clean cats.

It’s actually fun for me to get “hands on” with the four-legged babies here. Some of these guys and gals are so happy for the attention they get, they’ll purr before you even open their cage doors. It’s pretty poignant and touching.

I talk to the squirts as I clean and I freely admit, I use “the voice.” Animal-lovers know the voice I mean. Our pets are never going to grow up to talk to us, so animal-lovers can and usually do feel free to baby talk their pets all day long.

I have this high-pitched, probably irritating to co-workers voice that comes out whenever I handle the four-legged souls in our cages and kennels. I’ll even make up goofy, nonsensical nicknames for them.

There’s a fellow I visit at one of the nursing homes who calls every animal I bring to see him “doodlebug.” Adorable. And I’ve actually picked up on the moniker.

So I’m running around doodlebug-ing all the cats – getting some pretty weird looks from my colleagues, I don’t mind saying, when I meet a little lady in our isolation kennels named Nadine.

Nadine is a black kitten, probably 8-weeks-old with big, green eyes and just a tiny smattering of white on her neck and chest – it’s barely there. She’s got a bit of a case of the sniffles, so she’s getting better in our back isolation kennels before she gets spayed and put out for adoption.

This little girl hooked me from the start. First of all, she has her own little bed that the staff give her every day where she curls up to sleep. It’s a good thing too because the little imp usually dumps her water and the bed gives her a dry place to snooze.

As soon as you open the door to clean Nadine’s cage (which as you can imagine has usually been thoroughly trashed) she jumps to your chest. I’m not kidding. At one point, she put one paw on my left shoulder and the other paw on my right and starting purring. It sounded a little wheezy ‘cause she’s still getting over her cold, but you can hear it.

Nadine’s also a sniffer. She puts her little wet nose against foreheads, hair, noses, cheeks, anywhere she thinks she kind find a new smell. Once she gets an adequate whiff, she then rubs her little schnoz against chins and noses and she bites and plays with earrings. She has the softest spot between her eye and ear that I love to kiss.

When you’re finished cleaning and go to close up her cage, she jumps back into your arms, which makes it so difficult to let her go. It’s almost as though she’s trying to say, “Just a few more minutes…”

Nadine is quite a treasure. She not only made me feel better in the moments I had to spend with her, but she also made me realize anew what a gift animals really are for us.

They’re pure. Their love is unconditional, their trust boundless and their devotion knows no limit.

They don’t know corruption. They don’t understand selfishness. They have no idea what evil is and they don’t know what it means to mistreat others.

They require food, water, checkups when necessary, a few naps, some cuddle time each day and a soft, kind touch.

Pure.

So when the world gets me down and I wonder about people and find myself shocked at what they’re capable of, I’ve decided I’m going to turn to our four-legged friends to find a little humanity.

Sometimes I think, like Nadine, they’re the best example we’ve got.   

*****

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