The Cat Who Came Back

This is a story of hope and despair. It’s my story, and it’s the story of my dearly loved cat Eowyn.

Our Eowyn is a shy indoor cat. She’s never been outdoors since we adopted her from the SPCA and promised them she’d remain indoors. But recently a workman left a door slightly open – and she disappeared. We called and called. We set food in the doorway, notified the neighbors, and called some more. We looked everywhere, but we knew she could easily be lost within the nearby cornfields. And then there were the eagles and vultures we sometimes saw swooping low. Would they carry her away?

We were desperate to recover her, especially when we had a fierce thunderstorm. Eowyn was terrified of storms even when safely indoors. Our remaining cat Arwen was lonely, meowing anxiously to us and seeming to look around for Eowyn. We reassured Arwen that we were searching, too, but we couldn’t find the lost one.

Days passed, and I kept searching and calling. A week passed, and I wondered why I kept on hoping and looking. If alive, she was likely far away and still terrified. Or perhaps she was injured and starving. I found myself praying that she would die quickly if she was suffering. After ten days, I knew it wasn’t sensible to hope she’d return. But still my eyes searched the corners of our garden, and I found myself calling softly for her as I picked the peas.

And then, twelve days after she disappeared, I heard a tiny meow as I put garden tools away in the basement. I looked up, and there was Eowyn! Still alive, and just across the room! When I approached, she ran away and hid, terrified even of me. It took a long time of gentle coaxing (and a dish of food) before she trusted me enough to come upstairs and into her familiar home.

She’s been home with us for a week now and has settled in well. Although thinner, she seems healthy and has agreed to only enjoy the outdoors from indoor window sills in the future. For me, Eowyn’s return is like a small miracle. It doesn’t make sense, and yet it happened. And I am so glad.

This entire experience of losing, desperately hoping, and continuing to search has made me wonder about the practice of hoping. I don’t believe Eowyn returned simply because I refused to give up. But perhaps the actions accompanying my hope kept her close by. I had continued to call for her even after she was missing more than a week.

Hope sometimes doesn’t make sense. My spirit kept on hoping even though my mind told me to give up. Living from a place of hope influences our actions. It may be a hope for a dear pet’s return — or it may be a hope for our country itself.

On this weekend, when this divided country of mine honors its 250 years of existence, I choose hope. My hope is that we will move toward the healing that we need, that there will be less division between us, and a true acceptance of all peoples who call this country home. My hope is that we will embrace and care for each other. My hope is that our country will follow peaceful paths in dealing with other countries, and also within our own borders.

My hoping needs to be more than words on a page. It needs to be an active verb. Just as my hope was expressed by calling for my lost cat, my hope for the country needs to be expressed with my actions. And I need the fuel of other people’s energy to join with me.

My dear cat Eowyn actually returned home on my birthday. What a birthday present that was! On this 250th birthday for the United States, may we who live here give each other the gift of our hope for the future. And may our hope be expressed through our actions.