Nobody with fur or feathers likes fireworks. Some of us with plain-old skin hate fireworks too. I haven’t checked in with any of the scaly creatures around here, but I’m gonna bet they’re not big firework fans either.
Yet for some reason I’ll never understand, many humans seem compelled to mark certain occasions by disturbing everyone else’s peace for hours on end. I’m sure these people know that the loud booms and flashing lights are terrifying for many animals and humans, but I guess everyone’s capacity for compassion is different.
Anyhow, this New Year’s Eve was particularly terrifying for our cat Blue Kitten (who isn’t blue, and isn’t a kitten). He was in the house when the fireworks started, hunkered down by the stairs and wishing for a better place to hide (because we wouldn’t let him hide under the bed).
Some of our cats don’t enjoy coming in the house, so they were hiding out in the yard. I left the door open so they could come in if they got too scared to stay outside. Unfortunately, Blue Kitten went outside during a lull in the fireworks, then got spooked by another round of explosions and ran off.
New Year’s Day, Blue Kitten was nowhere to be found. I connected with him telepathically many times that day. At first, all he could show me was how scared he was: Whenever I tapped into his energy, I felt swamped by a wave of heart-pounding anxiety. He so consumed by his fear, he wasn’t able to communicate anything that might help me to locate him.
I spent the day working in the yard, pausing often to call his name. Finally, around 3:00 that afternoon, I felt his energy become calmer. I connected in with him telepathically and asked if he could hear me calling him. He said he was too far away to hear me, but he showed me which direction he’d gone–across the street and through a neighbor’s unfenced yard to an adjacent property and beyond.
He told me he was hiding under a small building. He thought he’d run in a straight line, so he was pretty sure he knew the way home. But he didn’t want to show himself in daylight, so he would stay put until after dark, when the world felt quiet and safe again.
Around 6:00 p.m., I called out for Blue once more before coming inside. I knew he couldn’t hear me, but that’s when something cool happened. The neighborhood roosters across the street started crowing. Then the roosters on the next street joined in. Street by street–but only in the direction Blue had traveled–the roosters crowed along with my calls for Blue.
It sounded like a relay: I’d call Blue, and street by street, the roosters would follow suit. Then they’d get quiet until I called Blue again. I have no proof that the roosters were really helping me to show Blue the way home, but I felt strongly that when Blue left his hiding place in the wee hours, the roosters would sing him home, street by street, until he made it back safely. I went inside feeling confident that Blue would be home before morning.
Blue showed up at 1:30 a.m., yowling under my bedroom window. He wanted me to know he’d made it home safe, but also he was hungry! I took my flashlight and a can of cat food out to the Cat Palace in the backyard, and he was happy to follow me out there for a belated dinner and a little petting. No worse for his adventure, Blue let me check him over, proud that he’d arrived home safely without a scratch or a stray seed pod or a tangled hair in his well-groomed coat.
I didn’t ask Blue whether the roosters had helped him find his way. He was so proud of his accomplishment, and I didn’t want to take anything away from that. After all, it’s part of a rooster’s job description to spread the news of neighborhood happenings.
Singing up the sun is their main task, of course, because the sun wouldn’t know when to rise if the roosters didn’t keep track of the time and raise the alarm every morning at 4 a.m. Since roosters don’t demand credit for giving that important reminder, I’m sure they won’t mind letting Blue keep all the credit for returning home safely from his adventures abroad.
Sure, some roosters can be self-important jerks (and I’ve met a few of those) but I think most of them just want to help. I’m grateful for roosters everywhere who sing up the sun every morning, but I’m especially thankful for those extra-helpful roosters who volunteer in their off-time to sing the way home for errant cats and stray dogs. It takes a village to keep everyone safe, and I’m glad that our village has plenty of fabulous roosters who are happy to sing us all safely home.
