FEATURED PET:

SCRUFFY/KUWAITIE THE WAR KITTY

Loved by Marta Daniel

Written by Glory Wade for Marta Daniel

Bombs exploding and the rat-a-tat of AR47’s marked the birth of Scruffy in an American military camp on the Iraq/Kuwait border. Tuffy licked her newborn kittens, their taste mingling with the cordite of the smoke that permeated the air in acrid gray clouds. Amid the mortar shells and shrapnel littering the burning desert, the other babies died.

Tuffy had recently been transported, pregnant, from the war-torn streets of Baghdad, thanks to the kindness of two American soldiers. Mother and daughter now shared a shack and the surrounding desert of the medical unit compound with revolving military personnel, many of whom shared their rations with them. They purred and rubbed against the khakis of their barracks mates, giving and receiving a special kind of love. One of the soldiers gifted Scruffy with a little stuffed mouse. She took turns laying it at the stocking or booted feet of whichever soldier was available, cocking her head or meowing at him to throw the toy. Her tail swished from side to side until it was tossed, then she bounded after it and returned with her prize for it to be thrown again. The military mascots amused the troops until the command came down that they had to go. A camp major contacted a stateside organization to give them sanctuary and place them in forever homes, using her own money to pay for the flight. At barely one year of age, with Iraqi passport in paw (so to speak), mother and daughter flew on a Blackhawk then a B52 bomber to the United States.

In Las Vegas, fate cast a smiling face upon Scruffy again in the form of Marta. On Mother’s Day, this lady went to Pet Smart to buy a fish but Scruffy’s mother meowed at her from behind the bars of the cage. Returning the next day to adopt the orphan, she was told that she had already found a home. The adoption lady told her about Tuffy’s daughter, explaining that the young feline was being socialized. She didn’t like her mother or other cats. Marta said she wanted her, sight unseen. Two weeks later on the floor of the adoption room, Scruffy, with kohl rimmed eyes and big ears, walked over to Marta sitting cross-legged on the floor and curled up in her lap. She was home at last.

Postscript: Marta re-named her Kuwaitie. The war kitten still hides when people come to visit but she jumps less at loud noises. Marta singing “I Wish I were an Oscar Meyer Weiner” calms her down. She is well loved and life is good.

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