Eli

"Hey, do you want a blind cat?" I looked up from getting the mail.

There stood a man, who currently did not have a home, who found a stray kitten in another homeless person's belongings. Both men shared a goal: to save the little one's life.

Out of confusion, I walked over before answering. What I saw was heartbreaking. Not only did the kitten not have his sight, but he did not have his eyes, at all. They were gooey and infected. He was thin, dehydrated, and injured, on top of it all.

We were renting a small house and already had several animals, but I figured that the least I could do was to transport him to a no-kill shelter. I thanked the man for his compassion and rushed the kitten inside. He wouldn't eat or drink; I knew he needed help, soon.

We drove 40 minutes to the closest no-kill animal shelter, where staff members could not believe the kitten's terrible state. They truthfully told me that if he stayed there, he probably wouldn't make it. They had the compassion but not the resources. I couldn't leave him there after hearing that.

After thanking them for their time, honesty, and tips, we drove back home. I was already attached. I was already crying and praying and apologizing to the little guy on behalf of his situation. On the way, I made contact with Fallbrook Animal Hospital. Amazingly, they were able to squeeze us in for a next-day appointment. This gave me some hope.

The staff members at the vet shared in my sadness for the kitten. The vet let me know that he had swelling in his head and body from an injury and may not make it. If he did make it, he would need regular eye drops and cleanings around the infected areas. The news hurt, and it seemed to hurt them as much as it did me. I assured them that I would foster him until he healed. We were willing to give him a chance, despite his odds.

Weeks past by, and the kitten kept surviving, kept growing stronger. I was absolutely terrified for his next check-up. He wouldn't be in the clear until his swelling went down. I was too emotionally invested to lose this one, not after he had come so far.

Our names were called in the waiting room. They weighed him, checked his eyes and his body, and even took him out of the room for a few minutes. My mind raced. Not a moment too soon, the vet came back. . .

Our miracle kitten was going to be okay.

Staff members rejoiced with me and followed his journey. As a young student with several unexpected vet bills, they showed grace on me by charging fair prices and communicating about the kitten's needs.

When it came time to find a home for him, my husband and I decided that our home would be his permanent home. We named him Eli, as an allusion to The Book of Eli and the Biblical, blind priest in the books of Samuel.

Years later, Eli is thriving. He has no sign of injury and is filled out (he rubs against my feet and shows me his belly every morning to ask for breakfast). If his water bowl needs to be refilled, he communicates his needs by sitting inside of it. He's best friends with our Australian Shepherds; he tries to sneak up on them, without realizing they can see him, and pounces. If a box is anywhere in the house, he'll find it and play in it like a conquered kitty castle. He catches mice. He moves about the house with ease- I honestly forget that he cannot see.

Saving Eli took a village -or, more specifically- the small town of Fallbrook. The first homeless man probably kept Eli warm and safe until the second man could transport him to me. The staff at Fallbrook Animal Hospital went above and beyond to give him the best care.

Thanks to them, Eli can live to feel, taste, smell, and hear, all while the world watches in awe.

Eli, with his doggo friends, watching over the chicks outside.