It was love at first sight.  I knew that she would be mine, to love and to cherish.

Knew that she felt the same way about me.

I'd lost my wife two years ago -- cancer.  It was a slow, painful, horrible way to die.  Rose suffered and it was a blessing when she passed away.

I didn't think I could ever love again.  That was until Pumpkin came into my life.

Pumpkin:  the sweetest, most beautiful Maine Coon you'd ever want to see.

Huge orange eyes.  A tiny, inquisitive nose.  Ears that stood up like flags, tufted with long fur.  A shiny orange coat.  A massive tail which communicated better than the high-pitched squeaks she usually uttered.

She wrapped her paws around my heart.

I'd gone to the shelter at the request of my son.  He said I had turned into a bitter old man and was tired of me moping.

My world ended when Rose passed.  I didn't want to do anything.  I didn't care if I lived or died.

'Come on, Dad,' Wyatt said.  'A pet will do you good.'

I emphatically told Wyatt I didn't need no danged animal.  They'd get underfoot.  They were too much bother.  They were too expensive.

'I'll pay for the pet if you're worried about finances,' Wyatt said.

And that was that.  He shot me a look that told me there would be no further discussion.

Muttering under my breath, Wyatt and I walked into the animal shelter.  And that's when Pumpkin chose me as hers.

She stood up in her cage, a magnificent specimen of feline beauty.  She rubbed her face against the bars, trilling a happy greeting.  She began purring.  Loudly.

I noticed on the card attached to her cage that she was thirteen weeks old.  Fixed.  Current on shots.  She'd been found running the streets.  Surprisingly, she was healthy.   

No one claimed her.

Don't know why:  the card said her disposition was friendly.  The caretaker said she didn't know a stranger.

The caretaker picked her up and placed her in my arms.  She settled into them as if she'd been born there.

Tears poured down my face, dampening her fur.  She licked them, as if she understood loss.

I tried to give her back, but nothing doing.  She wasn't having it.  Pumpkin chose me.

So, I left with a kitty, along with a carrier, treats, toys, and a lighter heart.

I've had her for six months now.  She and I do everything together.  We take walks -- she's leash trained.  She loves to go for rides in the car.  She'll sit in my lap and purr as we watch the evening news.  She loves it when I read.  When I open a book, she has to know what it's about, and I gladly tell her.

I swear she understands every word.

And next week, she starts training as a therapy cat.  We're going to visit patients at the hospital or nursing home.

She's already on her way -- she's been good medicine for me.

© 2012, Karla Dorman (5/10)