Pinball: The Stray I Needed

By Jackie Haines

During our lives, God often uses people who reach out in love and help to us during a difficult situation, as “Jesus with skin on.” This assures us that our heavenly Father still is with us, caring for us and holding us close. In other situations, the Lord can use pets and other animals to accomplish the same goals. In this memoir, a very special gift from God came into my life as a starving, thirsty, flea-and-ear-mite-infested stray kitten. He grew into a handsome, affectionate big cat who became my “Jesus wrapped in fur.”

This kitty whom my husband had named Pinball was always there when I needed an extra touch of God’s love and presence during the darkest moments of the most difficult and challenging decade of my life. Pinball seemed to understand and share my feelings; he seemed to feel my pain. He grieved along with me and then often gave me reasons to chuckle and welcome the sunshine and joy once again. I am absolutely convinced that God himself placed Pinball into my life at exactly this moment when I most needed to know for certain that God still loves me, is always holding me close, and can bring me triumphantly through life’s deepest valleys as I hang on to His promises.

A warm, soft, purring cat was a most comforting and healing medicine to soothe my broken heart and assure me that God is, indeed, good all the time, and I have grown stronger through all these experiences.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Covenant Books, Inc.
• Release date: Feb 24, 2022
• ISBN: 9781638858478

Book preview

Chapter 1

The Day We Met

A Saturday in Late October or Early November 2001

In the early afternoon, a tiny, malnourished kitten is sniffing hopefully around the dumpster beside a public library, searching for something to eat. His belly must be itching since tiny bugs crawl on the skin under his fur. He is thirsty and weak, swatting at his ears, where something even smaller was crawling around inside and biting. Barely weaned, he might have been tossed out of someone’s car, left all alone in the world. As any baby would do, he cries piteously.

Two little boys hear the weak, pathetic mewing and walk over to investigate. The taller one with bright red hair bends down and talks with the kitten while the smaller boy stands by, silently watching. As the kitten tries to nuzzle the boys’ ankles, another boy appears, holding a book in his hand. He is blond and the same size as the red-haired boy. He hears the kitten crying and recognizes the boys with him.

Hey, Will! Sam! What’s up? Whose kitten?

Dunno, Will replied. We were heading to the library and saw this kitten sniffing around and crying. Look how skinny he is. Poor thing!

You guys gonna take him home? He sure looks hungry!

No way, Nick! Again Will speaks for both. Our mama would have a fit. We already have two cats. He jerked his head at his brother and adds over his shoulder as they walk away, We need to get home. See ya! They glance back once or twice when they hear the kitten cry more loudly.

It’s okay that they’re going. They are not the ones who need you.

The boy they call Nick also turns and starts walking away. But he slows and stops, hesitating. He sighs and walks back over to the tiny kitten, squats down, and looks at him more closely.

You poor thing. You need some food, don’t you? You have a pretty little face. I don’t know what my mom and Dad would say… He sighs, stands up again, and walks slowly away.

Don’t let him go! It’s this boy and his family that need you.

The kitten stumbles after this boy, crying more pitifully, then purring even more loudly. Nick later tells his parents that he tried to shoo the kitten away, but these cries are so heartrending that he decided even if his parents won’t let him keep the kitten, his mother will at least give him food and water. The boy reaches down to pick the baby up gently, and the kitten snuggles under his chin, still purring.

Nick carries his furry find along the road, around a curve, and down the street to the third house on the right, a mint-green house with white windows, dark green shutters, and dark brown trim. As soon as he enters the open garage, he begins calling, Mom! Dad! Can you come out here? The kitten peers into his new friend’s gray-blue eyes with love and devotion. Again, he nestles against Nick’s neck, indicating he feels safe, convinced everything will be all right.

The door opens into the garage, and a very short lady with red hair and glasses steps out, wearing a colorful shirt and jeans. After a quick glance, hands on hips, she asks, "Nick, who is this?"

A moment later, a man with light-gray hair and glasses joins his family in the garage. He grins when he sees Nick’s friend, Oh, who have we here? A friend for Tabitha?

Nick explains his find and looks at the lady he calls Mom with eyes as sad and pleading as the kitten’s eyes were only minutes before.

"Mom, we can’t just let him die, can we?"

She sighs. Nick, you know this kitten may belong to someone. We’d have to check first. Besides, we have Ms. Tabitha, who is fifteen years old and set in her ways. What do you think she would say about this young whipper-snapper? But the lady is petting the kitten as she speaks. The kitten shows his joy by increasing the volume on his purring. This lady scoops him up from Nick’s arms, peeks under the tail, and announces, Well, it’s a boy, that’s for sure. She grimaces as the kitten suddenly shakes his head vigorously and rubs his ears with his paws.

"Something seems to be bothering his ears. I see bits of dirt and blood in there. And…Oh no, Nick, he has fleas—lots of them! We’d have to deal with that right away. Looks like he’s starving, and he needs to be checked for worms and anything contagious." She hands the kitten back to Nick, and the mewing begins again, this time loudly.

The man she calls Marion and Nick calls Dad laughs as he scratches the kitten’s head and chin. Uh-oh, it looks as though we may have a new kitten!

The lady the man calls Jackie sighs and opens the door. Don’t jump the gun, guys. First, I am getting this boy some of Ms. Tabitha’s food and some water. Nick, take him directly to the back porch. Do not stop inside this house. I don’t want those fleas to get into the carpet or furniture! I don’t want Tabitha near him until I check with our vet on Monday. Before we make any decision, we have to make sure he’s healthy. While he eats and drinks, you men make him a litter box. I’m going to the grocery store to pick up kitten food and flea killer. He needs the extra nutrients of kitten food.

Marion winks at Nick. As soon as Jackie returns, she sprinkles flea powder on the kitten’s fur and pours kitten food into a small bowl. The kitten eats and drinks ravenously, purring the entire time. Jackie strokes and pets the kitten, grimacing when she comes in contact with fleas.

Marion takes two photographs of the newcomer and designs posters announcing, Found, Male Kitten, Near Port St. John Library. Cute! Is He Yours? Call…That weekend, Jackie attaches the posters to every power pole on Carole Avenue and Monterey.

There will never be a response to these posters. Because this kitten is meant to be with these people!

Two days later, on Monday, Jackie puts the newcomer in a crate (he appears to be frightened of being trapped again, so he protests loudly) and takes him to the veterinarian, who smiles as he examines the kitten closely. Within a short time, he tells Jackie, This kitten has ear mites, so I’ll put medicine in his ears. Other than the fleas, for which you’ve been treating him, he is a strong, very healthy kitten. No worms, no contagious disease!

That settles the question. When he reaches home, the kitten spends hours exploring and acquainting himself with his people.

God works in mysterious ways!

Chapter 2

Meet Tabitha

What is so special about cats?

Let me count the ways.

Cats always seem to know their favorite person’s mood and thoughts. Cats are intuitive. They come to their friends ready to play when they sense that their owners are energetic or when they need a break from work or life. A cat is a communications expert. They proclaim that they need to play or when they need attention, depending on gradations of meowing. If still ignored, they will use the rubbing-up-against-their-people method to request attention. Cats also instinctively know when their owner is grieving, sad, or the recipient of bad news. They show up when we most need cuddling, holding, comforting, a chance to laugh, or a companion to cry with. They don’t mind if tears drop on their lovely fur. They will be there for their people, and they will listen. A cat’s purr has such a peaceful and soothing quality. A cat is nonjudgmental. A cat is wise. And, best of all, a cat knows how to keep a secret.

This kitty who is entering our home for the first time will have a profound effect on us—and on the current resident Queen Cat.

Ms. Tabitha was our first child. We waited to add to our family until we finished a screened back porch to our home in Port St. John. Tabitha was little and adorable when we adopted her. She groomed herself as carefully as a teenage girl. Although she enjoyed her first vet visit, the second time was unpleasant for us all. When the vet gave Tabitha her first shot in a muscle behind her shoulder, she whirled around with a yowl, sinking her fangs into the hand holding the needle. Dr. B grimaced but finished the vaccination, not pausing to yell until afterward. Marion and I apologized repeatedly as he washed blood from his hands, but he took the attack in stride. Believe it or not, Tabitha and Dr. B became best buddies—and she never bit anyone ever again.

We took her on road trips to visit Bryna Haines, Marion’s mother, who lived in Winston-Salem, North Carolina. Tabitha was curious but mellow. She loved to sit on a couch and gaze out the window, checking for unusual activity in the yard, especially the many birds in the oaks out front. The squirrels seemed to taunt her as she sat in the bay window. We could tell by the motion of Tabitha’s tail when they were close to the house or in a tree flitting their tails to annoy her. When that behavior grew wearying, Tabitha curled up in open suitcases, so we learned to check carefully before closing them and carrying them to the car.

Christmas was Tabitha’s favorite time of the year, not because of the gifts, but because of the empty boxes and wrapping paper. She could make a bed in almost any open box. I took a picture of Tabitha doing just that and submitted it to a Beautiful Pet fundraiser for our local SPCA. Tabitha’s photo won the contest. We were both very proud.

The first intruder in Tabitha’s life was a newborn named Nick, who appeared on her territory on a fateful day, April 30, 1990, when I was thirty-five and Marion, the proud father, was forty. Tabitha, now four, showed great curiosity over this creature who smelled so very different. We placed a sleeping nine-week-old Nick, still strapped in his baby car seat, on the dining room table while we carried in the things the adoption agency had given us that morning. In minutes, a hungry, disoriented Nick awoke just as Tabitha was sniffing close to his car seat. Nick let out a loud, frustrated cry, startling Tabitha so dramatically that she charged through the open back door onto the porch. She didn’t return for two days. But in less than eight months, she became good friends with Nick, and they remained good friends for the rest of her life.

At about eight years of age, our four-legged child, Tabitha came down with an infection and was given a new antibiotic called Baytril, which is just fine for dogs, but, unbeknownst to our vet, not intended for cats. Too late we learned that it can cause blindness. By the time Pinball appeared in our lives, Tabitha had to feel her way around the house. But she continued to live a full life.

From the day Tabitha first met Nick, a decade had passed before a new interloper arrived to disrupt her life.

Chapter 3

A Meeting of the Minds

After an exhaustive search around his new home, the adorable American short-hair kitten with a tabby coat pattern discovers our great room. A large La-Z-Boy sits beside a short wall, facing stereo speakers, the TV, and two tall entertainment cabinets. A small La-Z-Boy and a love seat also face the TV, and a couch rests under the triple window. Snoozing on a small blanket is a gray-and-white elderly cat named Tabitha.

The baby kitten slowly approaches the love seat, sniffing curiously. Tabitha lifts and turns her head toward the new smell, emitting a soft growl from her throat. She seems to understand that another cat is in her territory, but he isn’t a threat at that moment. This is just a warning growl. She relaxes and returns to sleep. Later, Tabitha gingerly hops off the small sofa, taking her familiar path toward food and water. Baby cat observes old Tabitha making her way slowly, once or twice bumping gently into obstacles. When she does, she turns slightly and keeps going.

The three humans in the home watch the introduction with interest. The miniature newcomer hides around the corner of the love seat, his entire hindquarters quivering with excitement as his tail flips gently from side to side. At just the right moment, he pounces on Ms. Tabitha, expecting her to play. Instead, Tabitha is caught by surprise, and it is obvious that she is not pleased! She hisses and spits, striking out with her paws to defend herself and teach this intruder a lesson. She never connects, however, and after the kitten recovers from the shock of Old Cat’s reaction, he scampers away. Tabitha doesn’t chase the kitten, as the newcomer apparently hopes. The three humans laugh, and I exclaim, Poor Tabitha! She can’t see the little pest that’s attacking her.

Marion picks up the little kitten, chuckling as he says, Little brat, you don’t understand that poor old Tabitha can’t play with you because she’s almost blind. But Tabitha gets around just fine as long as she stays on a familiar path. Sometimes she bumps into things, backs up, and goes a different way, just like in a pinball game. He looks at Nick and me. That would be a great name for our new family member: Pinball the Cat! Nick agrees immediately. I shake my head, smiling. Whatever… Our little kitten is Pinball from that moment.

Old Ms. Tabitha wants peace and quiet and a soft warm place to nap. She loves it when we talk to her and stroke her gently. Though she doesn’t greet the pouncing Pinball in a friendly manner, she always meows and purrs to communicate with her humans. She can smell Pinball when he approaches and will growl softly in her throat if the kitten gets too close. At the ripe old age of fifteen, Tabitha has apparently forgotten that kittens need to play, often jumping at anything that moves. Too often, as Tabitha rests in her favorite spot, her tail swaying slowing over the side of the couch, Pinball leaps to slap at or bite this moving object. Everything is a toy to him!

The startled old kitty spits and strikes out with her paws. Once, Tabitha connects and knocks Pinball backward. Tabitha growls in disgust until I pet her gently and soothe her injured spirits. Nick invents a game to keep Pinball from bothering Ms. Tabitha. He hides behind the couch where Tabitha is sleeping. When Pinball wanders over to see if Tabitha wants to play, Nick jumps out at the kitten with a boo! Then he races out of the room and down the hall.

The first few times Nick does this, Pinball jumps straight up into the air, with tail fluffed and fur sticking straight up along his spine. Soon enough, he realizes that Nick wants to play tag, and Pinball races down the hall in pursuit, never anticipating that Nick waits just inside a doorway, prepared to jump out at Pinball again, calling, Whew-whew! Nick gives Kitty a little slap on his backside, and the race is on once more.

Eventually, Pinball understands that Ms. Tabitha has been queen of this house for a long time and that should warrant his respect. He makes every effort to befriend her. He begins curbing his natural kitten behavior around the sweet old girl, I notice. Gradually, Pinball learns to give Tabitha the right-of-way when she walks by. At first, because she can still smell the kitten, she growls, but doesn’t spit or try to slap him. One quiet afternoon, I watch Pinball take his chance. He hops softly up on the opposite end of Tabitha’s favorite couch as she rests. He pauses and quietly observes the old lady. She raises her head and growls, but when Pinball comes no closer, Tabitha settles down and continues her nap in peace. Pinball lies down on the opposite end of the love seat and falls asleep. Peace prevails.

They start to become friends! Though Pinball needs kitten food and Tabitha has her own diet, she will occasionally taste Pinball’s, and he may nibble a few pieces of her food. Pinball watches quietly as she walks slowly and cautiously, sometimes bumping into furniture. Tabitha no longer growls when the little boy passes by. I watch one evening when Pinball is on the small couch, resting on Tabitha’s blanket while she eats her meal. Tabitha comes back to her spot and smells that pesky kitten on her blanket. She growls momentarily, but when Pinball stays very still, Tabitha curls up on the other end of that blanket and goes to sleep. She is only two feet away from The Pest.

I tiptoe out of the room, coming back with a camera and Marion, to record this milestone: two cats on the same blanket. Marion nods and smiles, patting Pinball on his head. The cats’ trust of one another grows to the point that when Tabitha becomes curious about Pinball’s whereabouts, she meows, and Pinball hops onto the couch and meows his answer. Satisfied that he hasn’t left her, Tabitha relaxes, grooms herself, and resumes her nap.

Chapter 4

Pinball Games

Long ago I learned that cats are easy to please. They find immense enjoyment with very simple objects and games they make up. Pinball’s favorite game with his three humans is tag: He waits under a chair, behind a door, around a corner, or under a table for the unsuspecting victim. When Pinball’s prey walks by, he leaps out, slapping their ankles. Then, he gleefully races away and dives under something. If the kitten is lucky, the person he attacks will chase him down the hall. Pinball’s way of hiding often makes us laugh; like a small child, he thinks that if he can’t see us, then we can’t see him. Pinball slips completely underneath a bed, apparently thinking he is perfectly concealed, but when we find his tail sticking out, we tap the bouncy feline on the head or gently tug at his tail, then race away. The game continues until someone tires of it—usually the human, never the cat.

Pinball adores large paper grocery bags, so we make sure to let a few lie on the floor after a shopping trip. First, he has to inspect this object. Once satisfied, Pinball walks away, looking bored. At a certain distance, he turns and crouches down, hindquarters quivering with excitement. Then he springs full-speed into the bag. The force of the cat crashing into the bag propels it forward, making quite a racket while achieving land speed records.

A similar game is played when a box is placed on the floor on its side. Pinball loves soft drink cartons that hold twelve cans. These are just large enough for a full-grown cat to hide inside and turn around. His favorite boxes have lids, holes, or both. Oh, boy! He slaps at people passing by, thrusting his paws through the holes; and if the lid can close down but not tightly seal, he’ll push up the top and slap at people, then let the lid fall shut. He’ll hide again until someone opens the lid enough to peek. Hours of fun, and he always seems to know when we need a laugh.

Marion goes in search of a small fishing rod and ties an extra-long shoe lace to the end. Curious, I watch him work and finally suggest, A toy for the cat?

He smiles and nods. Come on inside with me. I’m going fishing for a cat! He settles into his large recliner chair, holding the pole with the long string attached, then waits for Pinball to walk into the room. When Pinball glances in his direction, Marion casts his line near the cat, dragging it slowly across the carpet. I watch with great interest from the couch. Sure enough, the young cat crouches down, hindquarters quivering. Pinball’s gray striped tail flips slowly back and forth as he calculates the leap.

When the cat attacks, Marion jerks the string upward, and Pinball has to jump higher than planned. His grab is successful, however, so Marion rewards Pinball by letting him chew on the knot at the end of the string for a minute. Then Marion slowly drags it away from Pinball, who pursues it once more. This time, Marion jerks the string upward a bit higher than before. Pinball leaps high into the air. Both of us laugh out loud at this game. It becomes one of Pinball’s lifelong favorites. Nick comes in from kicking a soccer ball with a friend, and he joins this game.

This doesn’t mean Pinball ignores store-bought toys, particularly small stuffed mice filled with catnip or perhaps a bell. Some are attached to strings and shaped like little mice, with eyes, ears, whiskers, and a tail. He chases these around our big living room, slapping them with his front paws. Suddenly he’ll flip onto his back with the toy on his belly. He kicks both back paws at the same time and holds the toy tightly with his front paws. When he knocks a toy under a couch or somewhere else that he cannot reach, Pinball realizes he needs help from one of the humans who live here. Our kitten quickly discovers that crouching down or lying on his side and reaching under the furniture with a paw outstretched while meowing pleadingly attracts attention more quickly than merely waiting for us to discover that the toy is missing.

However, most of the kitty’s favorite toys are homemade. The cardboard tube from paper towels! The toilet paper tubes! They are sources of endless fun, as Pinball races around the house, slapping the light and flighty delights. He grabs the tubes and kicks them while on his belly, biting them when feeling especially aggressive. When they’ve been sufficiently shredded, I simply toss them into the recycling container.

Pinball loves to play with long shoelaces indiscriminately, not understanding which shoestrings are intended for play and which are meant to fasten shoes to human feet. Marion displays great creativity, keeping his laces tucked inside his shoes when he isn’t wearing them. A very perceptive Pinball is learning to stay away from shoes with laces tucked inside.

Chapter 5

Pinball’s Responsibilities as a Member of Our Family

Every weekday morning, Marion drives away in his red 1988 Thunderbird, heading to the Brevard County Governmental Center, where he is a networking specialist. Before kissing me goodbye, Marion reaches down and pats Pinball on his head. Several afternoons every week, I drive Nick to soccer practice. As we leave, I ask Pinball to guard our home and alert me to anything out of the ordinary when I return. Later, as I cook dinner, I make sure the front door is open, so the cat can stand on his back paws and peer through the storm door. He listens for