Counting the steps to the door of your heart

Malcolm is the newest member of our tiny family. He is much like his namesake: a strong Black man, betrayed by his peers, but loving and full of hopeful redemption. He lived on the streets for an unknown period, and even though my gut tells me that it wasn’t long, it was nevertheless too much time. When he arrived at the shelter, his neck had a large battle wound, which had abscessed, shaped like an X. It has healed well on its own after he was treated by the vet, and I give it another month before the hair has grown back over the scar. Despite his ordeal, he’s quite open to people, though he’s selective about which laps he chooses to sit on. His previous owners did not chip or tattoo him, so his origin and history is completely unknown.

click for malcolm video

At around ten years old, Malcolm was a hard sell for most people. Kittens are always much more popular in shelters, especially when families with little children show up to find a playful family pet. As anyone who knows me/us could tell you, we’re happily child-free and into elderly cats. It does cause a lot of heartache; I’ve spent the better part of this year mourning the very sudden loss of Cloe last spring. Until now, I’ve had a lot of anxiety about adopting a new friend after losing two in a row under very tragic circumstances that were at least somewhat related to their double-digit ages.

But we were fortunate to visit a local shelter yesterday and meet Malcolm, who was introduced to us immediately once I explained our history and preferences. We offered to take pairs, cats with medical needs, loud cats - really, just about anyone - but luckily, the intuitive shelter staff could sense where the mutual love would develop the quickest. Malcolm instantly climbed all over us, though we later found out he’d batted other prospects away. And after the staff saw us all together, they asked me to write an article for their association magazine about the joys of adopting elderly cats, something people tend to overlook. Most shelters in Copenhagen don’t even take older cats, and those with FIV are routinely euthanized as well (which is another topic I’d love to write about as FIV cats are adopted out with success in other countries). I do get that it can be hard to come together and know you could soon be parted, but that isn’t necessarily what will happen - it just happened that way for me and my kids in the past. In those cases, my suffering was protracted and painful after they’d gone, but why make decisions based on fear of the worst? Our lives were better because we had each other. People and animals who have been around the block tend to have the most character, the most to share from their travels, and even cats who need quarantine from others because of age or illness may have incredible years ahead of them. Would you rather both end up alone or have the best years of your shared lives? I may end up devastated when we part, but I never regret sharing my life or the privilege of caring for someone who needs me.