Paw Prints in the Moonlight Read Online Free PDF Page A

kitten still lying precisely where I’d placed him the night before in the cardboard box. As I lifted him out and cradled him in my hand, he felt just like a tiny bag of bones and I despaired at my lack of common sense in hoping that I could nurse him back to health. Feeding him from the pen tube proved a messy business and I doubted whether he got much into his stomach. It was like holding a lifeless sack and several times I thought he had died, only to be reassured by a cough and what passed for a whimper.
    There was no apparent progress that day and the kitten just lay in the box, dormant, in a curved foetal position. I really believed that he was dying but I stubbornly persisted in taking him out every few hours to force some of the milky mixture into him. At times I felt like giving up in frustration and I sensed hopelessness in what I was attempting to do. Sometimes I thought about taking him back to the vet so that he could die in peace. But I didn’t and I kept thinking, ‘I’ll give it one more try,’ followed by another and yet another until the whole day passed in a succession of
depressing attempts to achieve the impossible, I concluded that nothing short of a miracle was needed, but then miracles sometimes happen.
    I felt very much the same on the Monday morning when I had to shake off all of these feelings in order to go back to work. After feeding and washing him I left the kitten, a black lump of fur in the box near the fire, with the feeling that it had all been a waste of time. In fact, it was with immense relief that I sped off to college. I was finding caring extremely hard going. Once there, I didn’t tell any of my colleagues about my traumatic weekend because I couldn’t face the strong possibility that all my best efforts to save the kitten were doomed to failure. Now that I was away from the cottage and my patient, I was back in the real world in which the childish fantasy of rearing a sickly, half-dead kitten was farcical even to my mind. With a sinking heart I drove slowly home at the end of the day, afraid at what I might find, with a part of me hoping he had died and so released me from emotional torment.
    There had been another heavy snowfall during the afternoon and I had great difficulty negotiating the driveway to the garage. The cottage assumed a dark and gloomy aspect in keeping with my mood. I even wondered whether I should walk down the bank to the Northumberland Arms for a bite to eat and some alcohol to drown my sorrows at what might be waiting for me inside the cottage. I stood for
several moments outside, considering this option and staring up at the myriad of stars in the vastness of space above me. Normally, this night-time view of the universe served to raise my spirits but tonight it did nothing for me. Perhaps, I decided, it would be best to see what the situation was first and then go to the pub afterwards. Forcing myself to put the key in the lock, I went inside. I thought let’s do a quick check and then get out. I imagined that I’d find a stiff little body already in the throes of rigor mortis. Refusing to put on the lights, I shone a torch I’d taken from the boot of the car directly into the kitten’s box.
    The sight that greeted me was truly amazing. Instead of finding him lying dead the kitten must have heard me come in and was shuffling around, making what I assumed to be squeaks of hunger. Overcome with happiness at this development, I yanked off my coat and set to work with renewed optimism. I was filled with joy at finding him alive in spite of my worst fears. I never did get to the local pub that night. This creature was hanging in there with all the tenacity Mother Nature had endowed him with and it was truly wondrous to witness.
    Two days later a further crisis developed. When I returned from work I found the kitten convulsing with chesty coughs. His nose and mouth were covered in phlegm and there was more pus around his