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Kimba – the white furry healer

When I was a little girl I pleaded and pleaded with my mum for a cat.  I tried everything to get myself a cuddly ball of fur.  I cried, pleaded, begged, sulked and even threatened to run away but to no avail.  The reply was always the same ‘cats are dirty flea carrying creatures, your grandmother hates them, we will get you a budgie instead’.

So my replacement for a furry animal was a feathered one and although I made the most out of my feathered friends my deep yearning for a cat never went away.    I must have a radar for attracting strays, over the years they came to me but mum never let me keep them.

Then things changed, I was old enough to have earned a piece of the power pie in the house.  One freezing winter night I was in my car ready to go out, I waited as the heater worked its magic on my cold hands.  I noticed a white little feline hanging out in the bushes and went out to investigate the arrival of this new visitor.  The creature looked up at me with tired eyes and crusty sun-burnt ears.  The bond was instant and from that day Kimba was mine and I was hers and my mum and grandmother did not have a say in the matter.

With lots of care and veterinary visits Kimba slowly healed, the skin cancer was cut out of her ears and they were cut and shaped like a teddy bear, she put weight on and her eyes became shiny again.  Kimba was the kind of animal that sensed things about people.  When I was upset she would sleep closer to my head at night, when I was angry she would jump up on my lap and purr to calm me, she would often come along for walks with me wagging her tail behind her just like a dog without a lead.

Kimba bought out a side in my mum and grandmother that I had never seen before.  Neither had ever shared the joy of bonding with a pet.  In their culture pets were never given love and affection or kept indoors.  Both my mum and grandmother suffered stress and loneliness and Kimba could sense this.  My grandmother pretended she didn’t like Kimba but I would often catch her speaking softly and stroking her.  Mum would sneak her little snacks of fresh fish or milk and sometimes let her sleep on her bed.    Mum is a germaphobe so this was a really big thing.  The transformation was incredible more laughter and happiness – less stress.

Kimba came into my life when I needed her most and she needed me most.  She was a passing friend never to be forgotten.  When Kimba died two years later she left an important yet simple message.  An animal has the ability to inspire and change people without the spoken word.

The time for another cat has not come.  I will wait for a long time if need be.  I know that another cat will cross my path when I need her and she needs me.

Written by Katherine

1 Comment

1 response so far ↓

  • 1 Soula // Nov 16, 2011 at 10:17 am

    How can I forget our Kimba. It was really the first pet in my life, and I loved Kimba so much, when it was time for her to go, I cried and cried for days!!!!!
    Maybe one day, I will get a little cat,what do you think Kath????

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