The Limp Kitten

I saw the limp little kitten body and realized it had been drowned; what a shitty thing for any animal lover to encounter. I picked him up and cradled the tiny spotted feline in my hands, caressing his little head and large pointed ears.

I thought I was hallucinating when his tail twitched, and I almost didn't dare to hope that he'd survived his trip into the muddy creek. Having watched way too many shows on Animal Planet I held his mouth closed and blew intermittently into his nose, gently inflating his lungs before rubbing warmth into his body.

I carried on this way for a full minute, breathe and rub, and when he sneezed water out of his nose and then promptly began to mewl I laughed through the tears of joy that had erupted from my eyes. His pitiful little cries were music to my ears, and I quickly bundled him into my sweatshirt and ran home; jumping into my car and high tailing it to the vet.

Several hours, and a few hundred dollars later, he was handed back to me along with medication and care instructions. He was much too young to be away from his mother so I had several weeks of round the clock nursing to look forward to.

That had been five years ago, and never before had there been a better companion than Shakir. He'd grown into a 32 pound adult Savannah, his silver coat was littered with black rosettes and no sound escaped his large ears, especially not the can opener.

He loved to play, attacking my legs as I walked down the hallway with a basket of laundry or leaping on my back as I slept, but he always kept his claws sheathed, careful not to hurt me.

Tucked snuggly under the blankets I drifted off to sleep with the sound of rain on the window and Shakir hogging half the bed. In the depths of my dreams I suddenly felt afraid, registering on a subconscious level that something smelled like smoke; had I left the biscuits in the oven?

I woke suddenly to find Shakir on the floor by the bed, his mouth full of my arm and pulling me out of the bed. I blinked my eyes into the acrid smoke I found myself enveloped in. It seared my lungs and I coughed, trying to catch my breath only to gulp in more smoke.

Shakir bit me harder, drawing blood as well as my attention, and at his insistence I rolled out of the bed, landing on the floor with a grunt. I could hear fire crackling but couldn’t determine where it was coming from, and I started to panic until something solid thumped my cheek.

Reaching out I took a hold of Shakir’s thick tail, crawling on my belly as he led me across the floor. My eyes watered and my throat was raw, but whenever I stopped moving he turned and yowled at me to keep moving.

Hitting the front door with my head I reached up and turned the knob, opening it enough for us to crawl out, and moment later I felt hands lifting me. After a few disoriented moments I found myself sitting on the lawn across the street with an oxygen mask on and a blanket around my shoulders.

The rain had let up and the light drizzle faceted my hair and eyelashes with tiny prism droplets. Under the blanket with me, leaning against my side with my arm wrapped around him sat Shakir, his bright topaz eyes shining up at me; he’d returned the kindness I’d once shown him.