Poop Under the Porch: The Day We Rescued Jezebel

Ericka and I fondly remember our early days together, especially the time we drove from Vermillion to Sioux Falls to see the movie, Pocahontas. It was one of those spontaneous moments that perfectly captured the excitement of a new relationship. The drive itself was filled with laughter, shared stories, and a growing sense of connection as we sped down the highway, enjoying the changing scenery between the two cities. Arriving at the theater, the vibrant colors and stirring soundtrack of Pocahontas seemed to mirror the emotions we were both feeling – hopeful, curious, and full of possibility. That outing not only sparked the beginning of something truly special but was also the day we rescued Jezebel.

On our drive home from the theater, something unexpected caught our attention – a stranded woman sitting anxiously in her car with a University of South Dakota parking permit hanging from the rearview mirror. Since we were both students at USD, we felt safe to stop and help. Approaching her, we learned that the engine had broken down, leaving her unsure of what to do next. Without hesitation, we offered her a ride to a nearby farm that was visible just beyond the fields. The farm’s rustic charm stood in stark contrast to the busy road with a tumble-down house that hopefully had a phone. Grateful, she climbed into the back seat, clutching her purse with hope. Once we arrived at the farm, nestled amidst tall crops and a few scattered outbuildings, she knocked on the farmhouse door and asked to use their phone.

As we waited outside, Ericka’s gaze was irresistibly drawn to the dozens of cats milling around the farmyard, their sleek bodies weaving gracefully between patches of sunlit grass and rustic wooden crates. Each feline seemed to possess its own unique personality – some lounged lazily in the warm afternoon sun, eyes half-closed in contentment, while others darted playfully after fluttering butterflies or engaged in spirited chases around weathered barrels. Ericka looked longingly at the cats, her expression softening with a mixture of admiration and quiet yearning, as if envious of their carefree existence amidst the gentle hum of rural life. Bending her knees and cooing softly, Ericka tried to coax a kitten into her waiting arms.

Only a few minutes passed before a tiny little calico cat pounced up to Ericka, her delicate back arched as she approached. Her once-beautiful fur now matted around her eyes, clumped and sticky from days of neglect, giving her a scruffy and weathered appearance. Despite her dirty and unkempt state, there was something undeniably endearing about her – perhaps it was the hopeful gleam in her eyes or the soft, tentative mew she let out as she brushed against Ericka's leg. It was clear this little feline had been through hardships, yet her spirit remained resilient, silently pleading for love, warmth, and a second chance. Ericka couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming urge to scoop her up to cuddle.

Ericka held the little calico close to her chest, her fingers gently tracing the soft patches of orange, black, and white fur as she murmured sweetly to the tiny kitten nestled in her arms. The farmyard around them buzzed with the quiet symphony of rustling leaves, distant clucks of hens, and the rhythmic lowing of cows, creating a serene backdrop for this tender moment. The kitten's eyes fluttered sleepily, soothed by Ericka’s warm voice and steady heartbeat, as if the world outside their small circle had momentarily paused. A cool breeze carried the faint scent of freshly mowed hay and blooming wildflowers, blending with the soft hum of life on the farm. In this tranquil pause, the bond between them felt palpable—a quiet testament to care, comfort, and the simple joys found in nature’s embrace.

After making the call for help, the girl stepped out of the weathered farmhouse along with the owner. Ericka hesitated, her fingers lingering around the tiny, fragile kitten she had just cradled. Reluctantly, with a gentle sigh and a twinge of reluctance in her heart, she lowered the kitten back onto the cool earth. The small creature blinked up at her with wide, trusting eyes, its soft fur ruffled by the gentle wind, before scampering under the porch to join her litter mates. Though a part of her wished she could keep the warm, comforting weight of the kitten in her arms a little longer, she knew that this innocent creature belonged to the rhythms of farm life.

With a knowing look, the farm wife casually asked, "Do you want one of the kittens?" Ericka's eyes immediately lit up with excitement, and she didn't hesitate to nod yes. I watched as her eyes search the yard for the little calico she had cuddled just moments before. The sun cast long shadows across the grass, and the gentle rustling of leaves was punctuated only by the distant clang of the feed bunks, while with a mix of hope and worry as she scanned every nook and cranny of the farmyard.

Eventually she gazed into the dim, dust-laden cavern beneath the porch, searching through the countless kittens concealed in the shadows. As she looked closer, she discovered her tiny companion nestled amidst the dusty wooden beams and gloom. Despite her attempts, the narrow crawlspace and scattered debris obstructed any direct approach, keeping the kitten just beyond her reach. Lowering herself gently, she whispered soothing words and extended her hands, trying to coax the fragile creature, which remained cautious and reluctant to trust. The surge of helplessness overwhelmed her, intensifying her resolve to overcome the barriers and save the vulnerable life hidden from view.

Desperate to prove my love and dedication, I found myself agreeing to what seemed like an impossible task: climbing under the cramped, dusty porch to flush out the litter of kittens and find the elusive calico who had stolen Ericka’s heart. The area was dark and pungent with the mingling scents of cat poop and urine blending with the faint sounds of tiny paws rustling in the dark. Each cautious motion beneath the porch combined thrill and trepidation as I gently encouraged each curious kitten to emerge into the light, their wide eyes filled with surprise. Amid the tender mewling, I finally spotted the calico and coaxed her out into Ericka’s waiting embrace. I hoped that completing the task despite discomfort and revulsion would convey just how deeply she mattered to me.

Expressing our gratitude to the farmer for her assistance, we climbed back into the car with the kitty in hand. I settled back into the driver’s seat of the vehicle, purposefully disregarding the persistent stench clinging to my clothes. Despite the odor, my attention remained fixed on the immediate goal: safely transporting the girl to her disabled car parked alongside the highway. Beside me in the passenger seat, Ericka was fully engrossed, tenderly holding her newly rescued kitten with a warm smile. The small cat purred quietly, peacefully held in Ericka’s arms, adding a soothing touch to the moment. As we traveled along the rural road, a feeling of satisfaction washed over me, knowing I had helped both the stranded college student and a vulnerable kitten.

Back home, I offered to bathe the kitten so she wouldn’t blame Ericka for the ordeal. After buying some supplies at Pamida, I ran some warm water in the bathroom sink. Picking up the filthy kitten, I placed her in the sink determined to get rid of the grime and crust that had accumulated around her eyes, as well as any pesky fleas and ticks that might have been hitching a ride. As soon as her body hit the water, the little furball hissed and clawed with surprising ferocity, transforming from an adorable ball of fluff into a fierce little warrior determined to escape the water at all costs. Despite her tiny size, those claws felt like razor-sharp needles against my skin, and I had to struggle hard not to lose my patience or—God forbid—strangle the little shit in sheer frustration. Slowly but surely, the dirt and crust began to dissolve, revealing the kitten’s bright, curious eyes underneath. I meticulously combed through matted fur with a fine-toothed flea comb, painstakingly removing each minuscule intruder while feeling a deep sense of satisfaction. By the end of the bath, the kitten was not only cleaner but also seemed noticeably more comfortable and livelier as she pranced around our apartment.

When it was time for bed, we decided it would be safest for her to sleep in the back room that first night rather than in our bed. Although it was tempting to snuggle up with her in our bed, we wanted to make sure she had her own cozy space where she wouldn’t accidentally get squished in the middle of the night. The back room was transformed into a little kitten sanctuary, complete with a warm bed, litter box, and some toys to keep her entertained. This careful decision gave her a calm, quiet environment to adjust to her new home while giving us peace of mind that she was safe and comfortable.

Once we were settled comfortably in bed, the peaceful silence of the basement apartment was shattered as the kitty began yowling and screeching with an intensity that was impossible to ignore. Her piercing cries echoed through every room, creating an atmosphere of chaos that left us both startled and exhausted. No matter how much we tried to soothe or distract the restless feline, her relentless vocalizations continued unabated, dragging us further away from any hope of rest or sleep.

As the hours ticked by, the kitty’s relentless symphony of sharp meows and plaintive yowls pushed me to my absolute limit. For what felt like hours, that tiny feline voice pierced the quiet night, demanding attention with an obstinate persistence that left me frazzled and wide awake. Unable to endure another moment of this ear-splitting serenade, I finally sat up in bed, my voice caught somewhere between exhaustion and exasperation, and blurted out, "Shut the hell up, you little jezebel!" The sudden outburst seemed to catch even the cat off guard, plunging the room into a stunned silence – or at least a temporary ceasefire in her vocal onslaught.

After inadvertently yelling at the caterwauling kitty, a wave of guilt and amusement washed over me simultaneously. Ericka and I found ourselves giggling quietly in the dim light of the room, our exhaustion making it impossible to fully settle into sleep. Despite the late hour, the shared moment sparked a gentle connection between us, and we whispered softly through the rest of the night, trading stories and secrets in hushed tones. The kitten, shocked into silence, curled up peacefully in her little nook and slept the rest of the night.

While dawn's first light filtered through the curtains, I retrieved the now quiet and content kitten from the back room, and brought her into our apartment. I placed her gently on the floor where she stretched delicately before hopping into Ericka’s lap, purring softly as if apologizing for the previous evening’s uproar. Watching the two of them together, I realized that this small, stubborn creature had already woven herself into the fabric of our lives – and so had the path she had led me down. The impossible task of crawling beneath that dusty porch had transformed into an unforgettable journey, one that deepened my bond with Ericka far beyond words. In that tender morning glow, I knew this was only the beginning of many more adventures, challenges, and shared laughter with little Jezebel and the woman who had stolen my heart.