Mysterious Ways: The Kitten Who Was Destined to Be His

 A widower finds comfort and healing by many coincidences linked to his new furry friend.

Posted in , Jun 23, 2022

A kitten with a wedding ring; photo by Getty Images

“When I die, I want to come back as a cat,” my wife, Sue, always joked. “And if I could choose, I’d come here!” True, there was no better place to be a cat than our house. We had spoiled all of ours rotten.

Boomie, our old Maine Coon, was the current king of the castle. Sue doted on him. It was a love he returned, especially on the days Sue wasn’t feeling her best.

For the past decade, Sue had been battling cancer. Through chemo, radiation and surgeries, Boomie was there. He joined Sue on the sofa while she napped, drained from the latest treatment. He’d lie with his bushy tail across her chest, protective and watchful. His antics could bring a smile to Sue’s face when the pain was at its worst.

Boomie even comforted her after she lost her wedding ring. The cancer had caused Sue to drop a lot of weight. That must have been how her ring had slipped off her finger. I searched the house high and low for the ring—even taking apart the sinks. No luck.

On March 22, 2020, Sue passed away. The weeks that followed were a blur of grief. Then Boomie started acting strange, refusing to eat. My son, a vet, came over to examine him. There was nothing we could do. Boomie had to be put down. He couldn’t go on without Sue, I thought. I knew how he felt.

A few weeks later, a friend called. Her sister’s cat had had a litter of kittens. “You can have your pick,” she said. I didn’t know if I was ready yet, but she was persistent. “I think it would be good for you, Warren.”

“Okay,” I finally said. “How old are the kittens?”

“They were born on March 22.”

The same day Sue died.

I named my new kitten Belle Dame—French for “beautiful lady.” She kept me entertained, playing with everything and anything she could get her little paws on.

One morning, I heard some noise coming from the dining room. A metallic ting, ting. Like coins being pushed off the table, one by one, and onto the floor. What was Belle up to now? I went to check.

Sure enough, Belle was crouched on the dining room floor, batting at something shiny. I bent down to pick it up. Only it wasn’t a coin—it was Sue’s wedding ring.

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