Ode to Molly — Presque Isle’s feline ambassador
To the editor:
I frequently walk on my breaks at work and one day decided to do the loop on University Street. Upon rounding a curve and walking up the hill I spotted this beautiful money cat. I could tell immediately this feline was well-cared for and loved. As I approached, my expectation was to see her retreat or just sit still, considering me with that smug attitude of tolerance you see very commonly in the species.
Much to my delight, however, Molly bounded — yes, she actually bounded — up to me rubbing herself on my legs and demanding I pick her up and give her the loving she knew she deserved. To Molly’s credit, she gave at least as good as she got, and I started to look forward to these interludes on a daily basis.
Before too long, I met Molly’s human companions. Not surprisingly, they too were totally taken with the love Molly showed everyone — and I do mean everyone. If you were anywhere in the vicinity of Molly’s turfdom, she’d come running, spreading a brand of joy that only she could inspire. It didn’t matter your mood before your reunion with Molly, her joy of living and just being was totally and wonderfully infectious.
On more than one occasion I expressed to Molly’s human companions that if anything were to happen that would cause them to have to give Molly up, I would be very happy to adopt her into my clan. They assured me on each of these occasions that they could think of no conditions wherein they’d voluntarily give her away, but if such a day came, they’d let me know. Even as they said this, I knew such a day would never come to pass.
My schedule changed at work and it became inconvenient to walk the loop on Molly’s turf. Still, I missed her so that, on my days off, I’d pop in for a surprise visit. If Molly wasn’t outside to greet me, I’d knock on the door and Molly’s human companions would drop everything to locate Molly inside and bring her out for her “ambassador duties.” My last visit was in April, this last spring, and I was relieved to see she had not only survived the winter, but she was looking very chipper and full of life. The last thing I said was, “If anything should happen and you have to find her a new home, I’ll be glad to have her.”
Two weeks ago, I swung down around University St., anticipating a great visit with Molly. What I saw — a totally burned-out shell of a house — made me sick to my stomach. On questioning a neighbor, I learned the house burned shortly after my visit and Molly never made it out. I know they say men aren’t supposed to cry, but this man shed many tears that day and has continued to shed them from time to time as I remember my Molly— our Molly — the little feline ambassador of Presque Isle. Heaven has gained a natural in public relations.
Clare Kierstead
Presque Isle
