Some Treasures Don’t Come from the Antique Shelf

The day a calico chose me

In 2012 I was in Eureka Springs, Arkansas, a small mountain town full of winding streets, Victorian houses and antique shops. One weekend there was a car show in town, and we went to enjoy it. At that time I was based on Bentonville, AR and working for Walmart.

While roaming around Eureka Spring we stopped at an antique store and bought a few pieces. We didn’t want to carry them around all afternoon, so we asked the store to hold them until we came back.

That is when I first noticed her: a small calico with a white chest and an opinion about everything. While we browsed, she followed us. When we came back for our things, she followed us again, as if she had already decided something we hadn’t.

The secret in the back room

The young woman at the counter saw what was happening and told us the whole story. The cat had shown up in front of the store a couple of days earlier. For the last two nights she had been quietly keeping her inside, without telling the owner.

She was worried. If the owner found out, the cat would be thrown out, and she might lose her job too. She had taken a real risk for a stray she barely knew, and now she was hoping someone would take over.

So she found a cardboard box, put the cat inside and handed her to me. That was it. No adoption papers and no plan, just a box, a small cat and a lot of trust.

I named her Mitti. From that day on, she has been with me wherever I go.

Fourteen years on the road

That cardboard box was the start of a long journey. My work has taken me from city to city and from one state to another, and Mitti has moved with me every time. New apartments, new houses and long drives have all been part of her life.

She was never the only animal at home. Our dogs, Harry and Stella, grew up alongside her. In this 2015 photo they are sitting at the door, waiting for Mitti, which says a lot about who really ran the house.

Wherever we land, Mitti finds her spots right away. A sunny windowsill, a stump in the backyard, or an open dresser drawer full of clean laundry all work for her.

Dr. Bleicher days, in Mitti’s own words

The only trip Mitti does not enjoy is her yearly visit to Dr. Bleicher, her vet.

Some of Mitti’s expression during her yearly vet’s visit…

It starts with flat refusal, Then comes the betrayal, And finally, relief:

Every year I promise. Every year we go back. That is what it means to take care of someone for the long run.

What Mitti taught me

I did not go to Eureka Springs looking for a cat. I went for a job, and on one weekend afternoon I went to look at old cars. Mitti chose me anyway.

I often think about the young woman at that antique store. She had very little power in that situation, but she used what she had. She kept a stray safe for two nights, risked her job, and made sure the cat ended up with someone who would care for her. Most acts of animal welfare look like that: small, quiet and personal.

More than fourteen years later, Mitti is still with me, still opinionated and still claiming the best spot in every room. If a stray ever follows you out of a shop, pay attention. It might be choosing you.

– Mo