Spartacus Jones Part One

 It was April 29th, when we met Spartacus Jones. My husband and I were having drinks with our friend Darci when we discovered a cigarette shortage. There was a PetroCanada just a couple of blocks over and Dan and Darci decided to go for smokes. I didn't come because it was raining and snowing that night. No way I was going out in that! Stupid Alberta weather...

Darci sent me a text-- "I just met Tom Jones." I responded with-- "Yeah...Does he have a collar?" I knew her. I was absolutely sure that 'Tom Jones' was a cat. 

I was right. They came home, and all Darci could talk about was this cute little cat that they'd befriended at the Petro-Canada 7-11. In fact, he'd followed them home. 

The weather was weird...the house was too warm. The precipitation was a rain and snow mix. I could hear him crying through an open window. It was piteous. As she gushed, I interrupted and said, "And you didn't invite him in?" 

I remember how irritated I was with her. Did she encourage him? I knew she couldn't keep him, why would she lead him here? And if she did, why did she leave him outside? I later learned that she DID encourage him, hoping we would at least feed him, but she didn't say so because she was unsure of just bringing a stray cat into the house. It had to be MY decision.  

I couldn't help myself. I went outside to find a gray and white tuxedo kitten perched on the fence., crying his heart out. I asked, "Would you like to come in, cutie?" I have this habit of humanizing cats, but I swear he looked like, "Are you sure? May I?"

Yes, baby. Come inside. It's icky out. 

He headed straight for the water, then for the kibble. He looked so hungry, I dished up some wet food, while Freya and Sully kept distance as he gobbled it all down like a starving little beast. The kitten wandered a little further in, until he found a heat vent. 

I took a picture of him lying there, for posters. It's the one at the top. He was safe with us, but where did he belong? We already had two cats. He couldn't stay. I remember that photo so well. He looked terrified as he lay. My sister still comments sometimes about how she originally thought he was striped, but no....those were his ribs showing. 

We already had two cats, we didn't need another. I determined that we would send the boy to the Humane Society. Despite my wishes, Dan named him 'Spartacus' to make him feel like a warrior.. Darci wanted to name him  'Tom Jones'. NO WAY! Even as I write this, I have "What's New Pussycat" dancing in my head. " Jones" was tacked on as a tribute to Darci's silliness. 

Darci spent the most time with him, cuddling and loving him as the night wore on. He ended up sleeping with her in the basement that night. 

The next morning, Darci and Dan had to leave. We opened the door, and the kitty looked at the outside with wide eyes. I told him,  "You don't have to. No one is going to make you leave right now." So he ran back downstairs. I had decided that I would take him to the Humane Society when I wasn't so damned hungover. Dan and Darci had to go to work, poor suckers! 

I was slobbing on the couch when Spartacus finally came upstairs in the afternoon. He inched his way closer and closer until he felt brave enough to jump up on the couch. Closer...closer. He put his head in my lap, and charmed me. 

I remember thinking, "Poor baby. When was the last time anyone loved you?" So I reached down, and pet him. 

He rolled over onto his back, and grabbed my hand with both front paws. I looked into his eyes, and found him pleading. I saw all the scars on his tummy, old and new. I stroked his face with my thumb, and he wouldn't let me go. It was like he was begging me to let him stay. So thin...so scarred. He broke my heart. Poor, sweet, baby boy....

My phone rang. Dan said, "I get what you said. We already have two cats, but--"

" I've changed my mind." I told him, "We're keeping him. ."

"Wait. What? I thought you said--"

"I know what I said." Sometimes, when I think of him, those words echo in my head, and the tears well up in my eyes. What if my heart remained hardened? What if we'd given him up like I planned? It still hurts to think about it. I swear Spartacus understood me, because he relaxed and began to purr, and I felt absolutely sure of my impulsive decision. "Spartacus wants to stay with us."

"Oh? Okay... Well, great!." It only occurs to me now that Dan called me from work. He never does that unless something is important. Even then, Spartacus Jones meant enough to him that Dan interrupted his day to state his case for a cat he met overnight. 

The call ended, and I gave Spartacus Jones some wet food. I went back to the couch, and he followed, placing his head in my lap again and purring his way into a deep sleep. It felt so good to make this boy feel so safe. I told him often. You are safe and loved. Safe and loved. It's a mantra I would often repeat to him. 

He became the love of my life that day, and Dan's best friend. This blog is hard to write, just because we loved him so much and letting him go was one of the most painful things we've ever done. 

But we'd do it again in a heartbeat. In part two, I will tell you precisely what made him such an awesome cat.