We ended up naming our first set of fosters Salzburg, Linz, Wels, Vienna and Austria and they’re all now on the next leg of their journey at the Best Friends Sugar House Adoption Center [now called the BF Lifesaving Center].
These kittens were an incredibly hard group. They were petrified at first which even actually seemed to get worse (for three of them) as the weeks wore on to where Julia confessed to having felt so depressed at the sight of kittens still in such fear of people who’ve spent weeks working hard to help them feel safe that she’d often have a difficult time going in their room to see them. It was discouraging to see the purity of love and devotion unable to even be seen for their trauma and fear, and I heard Julia in this sentiment; I had been surprised too.
And when I held Linz up yesterday to give her the blessing of the fosters—“we love you; if you need us, tell the universe to help you find us; may our love always serve to comfort you”—the tears started to flow. For it was early morning, I was exhausted and all the posts yesterday about the Parkland kids at the Tony’s performing that Rent song had nestled. Children singing to heal a world that has hurt them was almost too much.
And Linz’s hair is downy, her body solid and strong, and as I held her—then slowly retrieved the four others—reverberations of my soul seemed to call to thought undiscovered truths. That I sacrifice for love and measure my life by it, and for a second, I felt not myself and cascaded through something to where I could nearly feel the existence of All until suddenly my own actions of blessing these kittens were a comfort. In fact, were THE comfort, the singular source of peace I’ve always sought, as if my own voice was echoing back into me so that I could truly hear exactly what I was saying to them.
For almost as in answer to Julia’s discouragement and concern, the Universe had seemed to send her a message of perseverance the day after making her confession when Wels—the fluffy little man, most frightened of all, in almost constant flight of some fear—made the trek across the kitten room to get to her so as to rub his head against her fingers.
Five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes…
How do you measure a year in a life?
How about love?
Measure in love.
Remember the love.
I don’t have any answers to the mysteries of this world—why I had that experience as I was saying goodbye to them; why Wels suddenly did that—but that there are such experiences yet to behold may we all stand in loyalty to them, singing to heal a world that might hurt us.
Be well, babies. Remember the love and may it forever echo back to you over even galaxies of fear.