Remembering what Thanksgiving is really all about

Jennifer Vanderau
Cumberland Valley Animal Shelter

(11/2016) The humans here talk about something called Thanksgiving. I’ve heard them mention turkey and family and I’m not sure what they mean.

When the lights go out, I look through the bars of my cage to see if Old Man Smokey is still awake. He’s been here since March of 2015. He’ll probably know what all the fuss is about.

Smokey’s lying with his back to the bars of his cage, so it’s tough to tell if he’s sleeping or not. I let out a little meow, but he doesn’t move. I try getting a little louder and I see him heave a sigh. I know he hears me. I go for one more trilling sound and I find success.

"I hear you kid," Smokey says. "Whatcha want? Tryin’ to get my beauty sleep here."

I know Smokey has adapted this persona because he’s been here the longest. He tries to play it tough, like the fact that he’s lived in a cage for more than a year doesn’t bother him at all, but sometimes, just sometimes he lets go of that gruff exterior and shows me that big teddy bear heart of his.

I know he’s a softy so I ask him my question.

Then he starts talking about tradition and the harvest and tons of food and how it’s a time to be grateful for the bounty that people have been given.

I scoff. Grateful. Yeah, right. What do we have to be grateful for? We live in cages.

Myrna in the cage above me sneezes and sniffles. She’s been on medication practically since the day she arrived at the shelter and she says she knows it’s because she has to live with so many other cats. She’s not used to it. Says something about her immune system. She’s convinced the only way for her to get better is to get out of a cage.

But she has to wait for someone to pick her.

The kittens are still playing. The lights have been turned off, guys. How about some sleep? I don’t even bother saying anything. They’re young. They don’t yet understand where they are. Must be nice.

I sigh and realize Smokey is still talking and the rest of the cats around me seem to be listening.

He says gratitude is important for everyone and everything. Including us.

I hear Myrna sigh above me. She’s not buying it either.

He rolls over in his cage and seems to focus those gold eyes on me. I know he’s been through a lot in his life and when he gets serious like this, I know I’d better listen.

He says Thanksgiving is the one time all year that people stop and look around them. He says out on the streets humans are in constant motion. They always have somewhere to be and somewhere to go and they’re always looking for the next bargain or sale or purchase. He says when you’re out on the streets, it can be difficult to stay out of their way, especially if you don’t know what you’re doing.

Street wise, he calls it. You gotta be street wise.

He says some of them seem like they’re always trying to find something outside themselves. They gotta have the better car, the better house, the better job, the better income. Better than what, he doesn’t know, but there’s a real push to get that extra something. He thinks it’s supposed to make them happy.

"But see," he says, and he gets real quiet now and I swear you could hear a pin drop in this place because we’re all glued to Smokey’s words, "it never really does. All those things, everything they collect, that constant drive for something more, it doesn’t really make them happy. Not in here." He curls a paw near his chest.

He says for some humans Thanksgiving is the time to stop the bizarre race. It’s a chance to look beyond all the items in their lives and see what really counts – the people, the friends, the love.

"That’s what it’s about, you all," Smokey whispers. "Love."

Myrna coughs and it sounds a lot like a sarcastic, "yeah, right."

"Don’t discount the power of love or gratitude," Smokey warns. It sounds kind of funny coming from him, but you can hear the sincerity for sure.

He says we all have a lot to be grateful for and it’s like you can hear the eye rolls. Smokey asks if anyone in the room is hungry. Truly hungry. There’s no answer.

He asks if anyone is thirsty. Really thirsty, like you haven’t had a sip of water in days. Not a peep.

He wonders if anyone is cold. Actually, rattle-your-bones, I’m-never-getting-warm-again cold. None of us were.

"Living in a cage isn’t ideal," he says. "I’ll give you that. But the thing is, we don’t have it so bad. Believe me, there are plenty other animals out there way, way worse off than us. I’ve seen it. I’ve been there. The truth is when your basic survival needs are met, your natural state is contentment."

We’re all pretty quiet.

"Would we like a home? Sure. That’s what we’re all here for, after all. But don’t any one of you forget that we have people here who care a lot about us and we have bowls of food and water and a comfortable blanket to sleep on. We actually do have a lot to be grateful for and maybe while the humans celebrate Thanksgiving, it wouldn’t be a bad idea for us to think about it, too."

We all fall asleep that night with Smokey’s words whispering through our minds.

And the next day something incredible happens. A woman comes into the shelter looking for the cat who has been here the longest. The staff members take Smokey out of his cage and into the bonding room.

We’re all watching intently.

When they come out, the staff member still has Smokey in her arms. She squeezes him and says, "I knew it would happen for you. Great job, buddy!"

She’s taking him out of the adoption area and he’s draped over her shoulder. When I look up, he winks at me and that’s the last I see of him.

We all seem to sigh collectively and wish our longtime friend well.

As I fall asleep that night, Myrna sniffs above me and whispers, "Happy Thanksgiving," and the sentiment echoes throughout the room.

The power of love and gratitude. There may be something to it after all.

*****

Jennifer Vanderau is the Director of Communications for the Cumberland Valley Animal Shelter in Chambersburg, Pa., and can be reached at cvasoc@innernet.net. The shelter accepts both monetary and pet supply donations. For more information, call the shelter at (717) 263-5791 or visit the website www.cvas-pets.org.