The soft mewling sound echoed through the phone, a high-pitched, insistent cry that sent a fresh wave of frustration through me. “Isn’t she just the sweetest thing, darling?” my mother-in-law, Eleanor, cooed, her voice bubbling with an almost childlike delight.
I clenched my jaw, trying to keep my voice even. “She sounds… energetic,” I managed, picturing the tiny ball of fur wreaking havoc on Eleanor’s pristine living room.
Eleanor, at 77, had decided to adopt a kitten. A tiny, ginger terror named Clementine. And I, frankly, thought it was a terrible idea.
It wasn’t that I didn’t like cats. I did. But Eleanor was living alone, her health was… delicate, and the thought of her chasing after a hyperactive kitten filled me with dread.
“She’ll keep me active!” Eleanor had declared when she’d announced her new companion. “And I’ve been so lonely since Arthur passed.”
I’d tried to be diplomatic. “That’s wonderful, Eleanor,” I’d said, “but maybe a fish would be a better choice? Something a little less… demanding?”
She’d waved my suggestion away with a dismissive flick of her wrist. “Nonsense! Clementine is perfect. She’s my little companion.”
“Companion” was one word for it. “Chaos” was another.
Kittens were a whirlwind of claws and teeth, demanding constant attention, requiring frequent vet visits, and possessing an uncanny ability to find trouble. I could already envision Eleanor, her frail frame struggling to keep up with the kitten’s boundless energy, the inevitable accidents, the scratched furniture, the sleepless nights.
And then, there was the inevitable. What would happen when Eleanor’s health deteriorated? What would happen when she could no longer care for Clementine?
I knew the answer. I’d be the one left to pick up the pieces, to find a new home for the kitten, to deal with Eleanor’s heartbreak.
My husband, Michael, was no help. “She’s happy,” he’d said, shrugging. “Let her have her fun.”
“Fun?” I’d retorted. “She’s going to break a hip chasing that thing!”
But I was the only one who seemed to see the impending disaster. My friends, my family, even Eleanor’s bridge club, all thought it was a wonderful idea. “It’s keeping her young!” they’d chirp. “It’s giving her a purpose!”
I felt like I was living in a bizarre alternate reality, where everyone had lost their minds.
Weeks turned into months. Clementine grew into a mischievous young cat, a ginger blur that terrorized Eleanor’s houseplants and shredded her curtains. Eleanor, surprisingly, seemed to be thriving. She’d developed a newfound energy, a spring in her step that I hadn’t seen in years.
She’d joined an online cat forum, sharing photos and videos of Clementine’s antics. She’d even started taking her to a local cat café, where she’d made new friends.
One afternoon, I visited Eleanor, expecting to find chaos. Instead, I found her sitting on the sofa, Clementine curled up in her lap, purring contentedly. Eleanor looked radiant, her eyes sparkling with happiness.
“She’s been so good today,” she said, stroking Clementine’s soft fur. “We’ve been having a lovely afternoon.”
I watched them, a strange mix of emotions swirling within me. I’d been so convinced that this was a terrible idea, a recipe for disaster. But I’d been wrong.
Eleanor wasn’t just keeping Clementine; Clementine was keeping Eleanor. She was giving her a reason to get out of bed in the morning, a source of companionship, a spark of joy in her life.
I realized then that my concern, while well-intentioned, had been misplaced. I’d been so focused on the potential problems that I’d overlooked the simple truth: Eleanor was happy. And that, in the end, was all that mattered.
As I left her house, I smiled. Maybe, just maybe, I’d been the one who needed to learn a lesson. Sometimes, the best things in life are the ones we least expect.
Tragic events bring orphan colt, mare together
An orphan colt whose mother died shortly after giving birth has a new mom – a mare that had tragically lost her foal – thanks to the generosity of strangers and Washington State University veterinarians playing matchmaker.
Pairing an orphan foal and a nursing mare is a challenging task and one that commonly ends with failure. In this case, the connection was instantaneous.
“The mare had only been without a foal for about 24 hours,” Dr. Lisbeth Matthews, an equine medicine and surgery intern, said. “We walked her into the Veterinary Teaching Hospital and past him. He made a noise, and she went, ‘oh, there’s my foal,’ and started making noises back at him.”
It was a surprise to everyone how quickly the mare, named Shelly but affectionally called Mama by her owners, Roy and Faye Lions, accepted the colt. Equine veterinarian Jenifer Gold, who was helping to care for the foal and to supervise its introduction to the mare, said nursing mares frequently reject orphan foals, and when they don’t, the pairing process often takes days.
“She walked in and started nickering at him like it was her own baby – it was unbelievable,” Gold said. “I’ve been doing this for 20 years, and I have never seen it happen that way.”
The foal, which has been named Laredo, was admitted to the teaching hospital by his owner, Spokane resident Rachel Williams, just days after he was born when he started showing troubling digestive issues. Shortly after the colt arrived in Pullman, Faye Lions placed a call to WSU to see if the equine team was aware of any orphan colts needing a nursing mare.
“Our foal was dead, and nothing was going to bring it back, so we were hoping we could help someone else,” Faye Lions said. “It just so happened there was a foal there.”
A day later, the colt and Shelly were introduced.
“For them to be so willing to basically hand over their animal to a complete stranger after experiencing their own tragedy was pretty phenomenal,” Williams said. “I feel like in this scenario it was the worst of the worst for everybody, but there was a little bit of silver lining to the story.”
Williams is also grateful for the care and treatment she and her foal received at WSU.
“I just can’t even find words to say how great the veterinarians at WSU were,” she said. “They went above and beyond. I am just happy I ended up at WSU. I am so glad we were able to match those two up – it is kind of a miracle.”
Shelly will live with Williams until the colt is ready to be weaned, likely in six months, before she will return to her home in Kamiah, Idaho.
“It will be tough to say goodbye because you just naturally start to bond with animals, and she has kind of been my lifesaver,” Williams said. “It will be bittersweet for sure, but I am sure her owners will be happy to have her back.”
During the spring, the equine team at WSU typically sees at least a handful of orphan foals. Equine medicine specialist Dr. Macarena Sanz said orphan foals can be fed a powdered milk formula designed for horses, but those raised by humans typically develop behavioral issues that can become problematic as the animal matures.
“They turn out to be socially weird, have no understanding of personal space, and they are more difficult to train,” WSU equine veterinarian Macarena Sanz said. “The fact that this orphan foal has a mare is really going to make a difference.”
Sanz strongly encourages owners to immediately call their veterinarian if a foal is orphaned, as early care is critical to the animal’s survival.
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