LK and Me
I called him “LK”…short for Lucky. He was nearly drowned when I found him. I was running from the police….who would have most likely thrown me in jail supposedly to protect me from violence on the streets until they called my parents. As I ducked into the alley two dark figures one tall one very small ran out leaving behind the near dead kitten in a rusty bucket filled with dirty water. As they ran I heard one say, “Don’t cry…would you rather him starve, we can’t afford to feed him.”
As I pulled LK out of that old bucket he was barely moving. I immediately put him under my coat–wet body and all. I could feel his little body shivering as he lay on my skin. I said a prayer, and hoped God would hear me this time and breath life back into the small kitten. After a while he stopped shaking and his body was very still. I was afraid he was dead but then I felt a strange vibration from his body and realized he was softly purring. I unzipped my coat just enough to see his head and his eyes were barely opened but he was alive. For the first time in my life I felt a love inside my heart for this little kitten as if my life depended upon taking care of him. A feeling that I’d always wanted my mum to feel about me before she died.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out a can of potted meat that I’d taken from the cupboard before running away last night and opened it with the pocket knife I had taken from my father’s bed table. I scooped a small amount on my finger and put it to the kitten’s mouth. He was so young he didn’t even know how to eat, only to suck on my finger. But he figured it out quickly and within minutes he was eating on his own. Between LK and me we finish off that potted meat straight away that night.
For the next couple weeks I’d find the soup lines, always cautious not to get caught as a run away. I’d always share my food with LK and he’d always let me know he was happy by that wonderful purring sound he’d make and that made me happy. At night I’d crawl into church basement windows and sleep on the floor–always keeping LK in my sleeping bad with me. Because he was a kitten he didn’t know to leave the sleeping bag when he had to use the loo. I never got angry at him. I’d just clean it up and go back to sleep. After a while I didn’t even notice the smell.
Believe it or not when I look back on those days I see them as some of the best days of my life. I never went back home and LK and I had many adventures all over London.
When LK was about 8 months old he got sick and I was so afraid he’d die, I took him to an animal doctor. I didn’t tell the doctor I had no money until he took a look at LK and gave me some medicine for him. Fortunately for me, he was a kind man with a wife that was just as kind. They ended up taking both LK and me into their small home and nursed both of us back to health. Dr. Lovus said he knew he had to take us in if for no other reason to get me a new sleeping bag. He said the smell nearly knocked him over when I first brought LK to him.
LK learned to choose the cat box over the new sleeping bag; and I discovered how wonderful it was to sleep in a soft and clean bed each night. I was 13 years old the day I walked into the Lovus Animal Care Clinic. I had lived on the street for one year when I found LK and for nearly 3 years after that.
LK was my family, my best friend and we were inseparable. We had found a home at the Lovus house.
As I look at this picture of LK and me shortly after I found him in that dark alley; I remember saying that prayer asking God to save him, and then hoping that God would hear me. I’d prayed so much for God to save me from the abuse and twisted thinking of my father. When the abuse just kept continuing, I was angry at God and just thought he wasn’t listening to me. That night LK got better and I wasn’t mad at God anymore. After that I prayed and thanked Him every night.
Today I turned 60 and finding this picture while going through my storage chest brings back the memory of the strange man that took the picture. The man appeared it seemed out of nowhere –so fast it frightened me. He took a picture of me holding LK and was gone as fast as he had appeared. The next night he appeared just as mysteriously and gave me the picture he had taken, smiled and was gone without a word. I never saw him again. But I cherished that picture every day. I always thought the man was an angel that God sent to let me know he had always heard my prayers, and wanted to give me a sign to hold onto so I would know He loved me. I now know that LK was also a gift from God. A little piece of what true unconditional love felt like and how to give it back.
…….One day….I think I’ll write a story about this, I told my grand daughter.
“Grandmom, where is LK now?”
“God took him back to Heaven, dear, when he got too old to live here anymore.”
“Goodnight sweet one, we’ll talk more tomorrow. I love you.”
– Sue Gallion
February 19, 2012