naming the unnamed things
When we went to get tools out of the shed, a small weak meow whispered.
For my birthday, I asked for furniture. Not the shiny kind, but more the practical kitchen island from free diy Pinterest plans type furniture-just call me Mrs Fancy over here. When we went to get the tools out of the shed, a small weak meow whispered.
#notourkitten whispered hello and our hearts melted into mush.
We hunted trying to find his owners(of course its a boy), started feeding him, and ended up naming him. We gave him a strong name with strong meaning, our meager way of giving him a will to live. Pretty much, he was #nowourkitten.
The likelihood of him staying with us was low. We knew that going into it. He clearly had been on his own long term, and while timid, soaked up every bit of affection we offered, purred with delight at human presence. He was morbidly dehydrated, had been hip mauled at some point, limped ever unsteady and weak-yet, we couldn’t say no to leaning into helping every way we could. We hunted for his owners while syringe feeding, picking off families of fleas, and removing dirt so thick it was unmistakable he’d spent the summer walking through Carolina red clay.
Here’s the thing about naming things though. It calls them out into the open (even if it’s just a weak whisper), refusing to no longer be ignored. Once called and proclaimed, the named things can no longer be easily pushed aside or neglected. They are the catalyst to heal those named things.
Once we named this little tattered ball of fur, we knew two things. If he goes away and leaves, he goes healed and healthy. If he doesn’t heal and we have to say goodbye, he leaves having felt loved and cared for. While we were prepared for either outcome, Odin left having felt love and care.
Our diy Pinterest worthy kitchen island (that I thought was so practically important) is still in progress. That’s okay-it’ll still happen(picture me staring at my husband, because we all know it’s really him making it, yes?). If we hadn’t paused our day, we would’ve missed the opportunity to care for an animal in need of help. If we hadn’t paused, our mancubs would’ve missed the chance to see the importance of stopping their wants to help the needs of another. There were bigger lessons that needed to be learned.
