One frigid Christmas, many years ago, the boys and I were returning home from spending the day at the in-laws. It was just before dusk and I made my way along an abandoned Canal Street. For those not familiar with Manchester, New Hampshire, Canal Street is a street that runs through the mill buildings along the Merrimack River. Elm Street is one block above and runs above the mill buildings. It is Manchester’s version of the quintessential Main Street found in any town. I preferred to take Canal over Elm in order to avoid traffic lights. As I made my way towards the Amoskeag Bridge, I was stopped at a red light. I think the cross street may have been Dow. I could see a cat to the left of me lying still in the intersection. I felt a pang of sadness as I contemplated the violent end, and on Christmas no less.
As I waited for the light to turn green, I couldn’t help but continue to watch and ruminate. Was this a stray? Was there a child waiting for their companion to come home? As I watched, almost imperceptibly, I saw the tail move. I initially thought the wind was catching it, but then a wave a realization washed over me as I registered it was an extremely still day. There was no wind, no breeze, and no external force moving the cat’s tail ever so slightly. The cat was still alive!
I pulled over on the cross street, told the boys to stay in the car in my best stern mommy voice, grabbed some plastic bags, a big quilt I kept in the car just in case we were ever stranded, and made my way across the intersection. I was already crying. I thought my actions were futile, but she was alone and injured in the middle of the road and the least I could do was make sure she died being embraced in a warm car. I discovered she was lying in a pool of frozen blood. I put my hands in the plastic bags and thought about how one shouldn’t move anyone who was injured and tried to be as gentle and steady as possible. I literally had to rip her from the tar because her fur was glued to it by the frozen blood. I couldn’t hear it, but I felt her growl. I wrapped her in the quilt, picked her up, and made my way back to my car. I felt her growl a couple more times, but the sound was not discernable. I put her in my oldest son’s lap in the back seat and I told him to hold her while I drove and figured out how to get her help.
Because this was many years ago, it was before the internet and I didn’t have a cell phone. My mind raced to think about where the nearest pay phone was in order to figure out where there was a veterinarian who was open on Christmas. I recalled seeing a payphone at Hannaford’s on Bicentennial Drive and I made my way to the deserted grocery store parking lot. I pulled my car up to the curb. picked up the heavy, clunky, and icy cold handset, and called information. I was in luck, there was a 24 hour emergency veterinarian on Brown Ave. It was across town, but it was close enough and we headed there.
I braced myself and the boys for the worst during the ride. I prepared their expectations through my tears. I explained we would do what we could. It didn’t look good, but we could give her a better death than the one she was destined for. I constantly checked in on how she was doing, expecting at any moment she would be gone. I was dreading the moment my young son was going to tell me she passed. As we pulled into the parking lot of the emergency veterinarian, he exclaimed, “Holy S*#%!!!” I was already on edge and he startled me. I needed to know, “What, what is it, did she die?” His answer, “She just sat up!” I pulled into a parking spot, turned around to look and there she was sitting up in the middle of the quilt on his lap.
I jumped out of the car, wrapped her back up, and went into the veterinarian’s, bloody quilt, cat, and my kids in tow. I am an ugly crier, I’m sure I was a sight to be seen. There were two women who received me and they took the cat out back straight away. We waited and I continued to try to keep my children’s expectations in check. After some time had passed, the women came out and told me the cat was a female and she was going to be ok. They asked me if I wanted to go back to see her. I was elated. Just a short time before, I thought she was a dead cat in the middle of the road, and instead I was meeting the gaze of an alert little being with lots of shaved spots. The women explained she needed surgery and it would cost $800 and asked me if I could pay for it. I didn’t have $800. Despair began to creep back in again and one of them said, “Hold on, let me see what I can do.”
I don’t know how she did it, maybe she called the animal shelter, but she found the cat’s owner. The cat had been missing for days and the owner had been posting flyers looking for her. The owner arrived and went back to identify her. She confirmed the cat was hers and we hugged and we cried. She wanted to know where I found her, and she was amazed she was found so far away on the other side of town. They lived just around the corner from the veterinarian’s office. The veterinary staff gave me my bloody quilt back and advised me to wash it with hydrogen peroxide. It was amazing, I saved a cat, the veterinarians found the owner, the owner agreed to pay for the surgery, and we all have an indelible Christmas memory.
This is where my story veers from the past into the present. Decades ago, we didn’t have cell phones, social media, or crowd-funding. I have always had a question circulating in the back of my mind: what would have happened if the veterinarian’s office didn’t locate the owner?
Recently, a dog affectionately named “Elvis” was brought to the Littleton Area Veterinary Emergency Service (LAVES) under similar circumstances. We have some wonderful animal advocacy groups in New Hampshire and the search for Elvis’ family was quickly under way. Generous souls began to donate funds to help defray the costs of his medical care. Unfortunately, Elvis’ family was not found and Elvis did not survive. Because the donations accepted exceeded the cost of Elvis’ care, LAVES used the excess funds to start the Elvis’ Hope Fund to help future stray animals who are in need of medical care. This is what we need more of – an infrastructure to help animals who need medical care. I have seen great strides have been made in animal welfare and I hope that trend continues. For Elvis’ Hope Fund, I hope it flourishes and strays in the Littleton, New Hampshire, area are always able to to receive the care they need.