From Hiding Under the Bed to Cuddles
By Susan Rosser
A little over two years ago, my adult daughter, Zoe, adopted a two-year-old cat. She named her Momo. To say this cat was timid and afraid doesn’t do justice to the situation. You would have thought she’d been dropped into Jurassic Park, not a cute Washington, D.C. apartment. For Momo, danger was everywhere: a lamp, an afghan, a throw pillow — everything was a risk. For the first three days, Momo hid under the bed. She didn’t eat or drink. The veterinarian said she could go three days without food or water. And right on schedule, Momo emerged for a quick bite. Then it was straight back under the bed. Clearly, this cat had her own timeline and possibly some issues. Eventually, at about the one-month mark, she ventured forth into Zoe’s apartment. At first, Zoe assumed this meant Momo would finally become the cuddly cat she had envisioned. Wrong. Zoe could barely get close enough to pet her. It seemed as if this cat had been deeply traumatized. Yet if Zoe was frustrated by Momo’s standoffishness, she never showed it. Instead, she kept showing up — offering patience and love, and letting Momo call the shots on her own feline timeline. Momo had been feral in rural Virginia. An elderly woman had fed and loved her, but then had to move in with her adult children. And of course, she made them promise that Momo would go to a good home. That’s how Zoe found her. In the beginning, though, no matter what Zoe tried, Momo had her own ideas. No one could pick her up. If Zoe wanted to pet her, she had to hold out her hand and so the cat could sniff her first. Perhaps Momo had been a TSA agent in a past life. There were no shortcuts. Just day-in, day-out patience. We all like to believe love can be immediately transformative, but sometimes love moves slowly. In Momo’s case, love moved at a glacial pace — especially if it was a glacier with an irrational fear of humans. And then one day, as I was FaceTiming with Zoe, Momo jumped into her lap. I screamed, “What?! She lets you hold her now?” Momo even lets Zoe pick her up, and she proudly demonstrated this once-unthinkable feat. I honestly never thought it would happen. But in hindsight, I should have seen the breakthrough coming. The tiniest, almost imperceptible changes had been adding up all along. All that love finally worked. In a world obsessed with instant gratification, it turns out some situations — and some cats — have their own schedule, especially when it comes to love. Seeing Momo curled up in Zoe’s lap, I couldn’t help but feel a small pang of envy. As a mother, I’ve often wished I could simply love away all the hurt my children have faced — and will inevitably face in the future. I know that wish has limits. But I can take a page out of my daughter’s playbook, and I can be that steady presence. Love can’t fix everything, but it can change what feels possible — slowly, imperfectly, and sometimes it surprises you and slinks out from under the bed and sits in your lap.