Rusty

The leaves are so dense on the trees in the backyard that you can barely see the sun and the squirrels running and leaping from one limb to another are almost invisible. They are given away by their excited chattering and they chase each other playfully through the trees, over the fence, to the roof and back again. The temperature will climb to the high 80's today and the birds will be out in force, singing sweet spring songs and bathing in the mud puddle behind the house.

Spring was my favorite season in New England. Warm days and cool nights were perfect for climbing out my bedroom window and sitting on the roof. I counted stars and listened to the neighborhood noises in the darkness, far away from whatever was going on inside. I imagined myself to have run away to another world where God would actually listen, where there was no war, where all children and animals were loved and safe. Our old orange tomcat, Rusty, often sat with me and I would whisper secrets in his battered ears and stroke his scars. He was a veteran and won most of his battles with the other neighborhood cats and I envied him - he was tough, streetwise, and independent. He had scrapped with other toms, and a dog or two, twice his size at that but Rusty
prevailed in those battles and returned a little bloody but not beaten. My daddy would patch him up and offer him the sanctuary of inside, but the old cat preferred the front steps or the roof. He was a prowler, a stalker, a fierce
fighter and except for really cold, snowy nights when he would sleep in front of the fire, he liked the wide, open spaces of his outside territory. He valued his freedom and while my daddy often fretted and worried about him, he also respected the old cat's determination and will. Rusty remained an outside cat all his life. He had traded
security, safety, and an easy life to live on his own terms, in his own way, and he never gave in. So we would sit on the roof together and watch for shooting stars, this old ruffian and I, both fighting our own battles on different fronts, both resolved not to give up.

Rusty was a wanderer, a free spirit, a survivor. You can learn a lot from a cat.