The Bus to Christmas

By Alice Rush Meiners

Driving to work on a typical Thursday morning that suddenly became not so typical a Thursday morning.

I left earlier than usual because I had to make a stop on the way, unaware that I would be making two stops before it was over. I was stopping at the local convenience store to pick up a breakfast pizza for a coworker, whose birthday it was.

Sidebar, this same coworker had been on my mind quite a bit in the last week or two because of a sad event. Living alone he truly enjoys his many and varied pets, and his cat had 5 kittens. In taking the entire family some distance away where they could be less expensively neutered and spayed, he lost one of those kittens when it escaped from its containment as he was traveling back home from the veterinary office. All of us at work who knew the story were sad for him and for the kitten - that we still truly hope was rescued and is living a good life somewhere. So, with childlike hope, I had been praying to God that this coworker might somehow find his kitten, that some miracle might occur.

I picked up the birthday breakfast pizza, and continued on my way, following a city bus. As it went past the local family restaurant, it slowed as though preparing to drop off passengers. I had seen it do this before, so I patiently waited. This time though, no stop. It slowly rolled, then took off again without dropping anyone off and as it moved onward, I saw a small tan colored shape tumble under it near the back. 

Initially I thought it was a plastic bag, but the bag only turned once before landing on feet and running to the side of the road where there was a car repair shop. I realized that I had just seen a small kitten. I quickly pulled into the entrance of the repair shop and leaped out of my car to find it, half afraid of what I would see, concerned that the bus had left it badly injured. Nothing, no kitten near any of the cars parked there. I looked back to the road, and there it was, crouching alone on the center yellow lines! 

With no traffic on my side of the road, but oncoming vehicles from the other side just being released from the stop light, I ran into the road waving my arms like a lunatic, yelling “NO”! (I think that “no” was what came to me because I had been so concerned that I might find an injured kitten among the cars for repair, and now it was seemingly uninjured, and I was not going to witness potential trauma or death again.) The traffic stopped, and I ran into the road. Then I carefully approached the kitten for fear he might run. He didn’t. I was able to scoop him up and tuck him into the side of my leather jacket, inside my sweater. I could feel him scrambling for the warmth under my arm. If there were going to be scratches, so be it, I was saving this kitten.

Getting back into my car and carefully attaching the seat belt so he wouldn’t be squished, I continued on to work. I had to because my task that day was simple but one only a few people were trained for, and that day was my day to do it. I voice-dialed another coworker as I drove, knowing that she happened to always have a cat carrier in the back of her car. 

When I arrived at work with the birthday pizza, I felt pretty awful about also coming in with a rescued kitten on our coworker’s birthday after he had lost one of his, but what could I do? The little fellow made quite a splash. Everyone was concerned for his raggedy state and wanted to help if they could. Arrangements were made to get him seen by my vet that afternoon. Even though I couldn’t take him myself, my coworker friend with the carrier took him for me. 

The vet did a preliminary exam and determined that all the usual ailments were present, ear mites, fleas and ticks, upper respiratory issues affecting eyes and nose, but no immediately apparent damage from the bus. He was estimated to be 6 weeks old, weighing only a pound and a half. The vet’s office gave him a dish soap bath because he was too little to be treated with the usual flea and tick bath. Then they sent him back with medicines, and my friend from work brought him back to go home with me. 

In the week that followed I made sure to get ointment in his eyes and antibiotic in his mouth. He was the happiest little purring fluffball. But his right eye was swelling. It was swelling quite badly, and I just kept applying the ointment, thinking it must be badly infected. It looked horrible. By the time the week had passed, that eye was a nightmare in spite of my best efforts. At the one week follow-up the vet determined that he would do better without a right eye at all. They could do the surgery that day. A scary thought, but also scary was the risk of further complications down the road in his adult life. The scariest was the vet bill for the enucleation. Ah well, in for a penny, in for a pound.

He wore a cone around his head for a full two weeks while the stitches healed over his eye socket. We had to assist him with eating because the cone was so large it pushed the food dishes away, and he couldn’t maneuver it easily around the dishes. Of course, there were further meds too. But little guy was on the mend, and in need of a name.

We tossed around so many nicknames. To this day we still call him different nicknames, but ultimately, given his adventure in confronting a city bus, we named him Da Bus. He’s still also Floof, and Buster, and Tough Guy, and Trouble, but he’s a purring, happy little puss, chasing multiple toys around the house with no concern for the fact that he only has one eye. He wrestles the big kitties, who are mostly patient with him, and everyone gets along remarkably well.

So, as they say, be careful what you wish for. They also say, “Man makes plans, God laughs”. I prayed for a miracle to ease my coworker’s loss, but the kitten came into my life instead. Christmas will be coming soon. Da Bus has found his place in the inn. Maybe that’s what God intended, to give hope that what was lost can also be found and rescued.