Page 77 of Big Island Sunrise
The pile of food was taller than the tiny kitten and probably ten times heavier, and the dog was big enough to eat him in one bite. But he approached that pile of food with the confidence of a full-grown tiger, growling as he bit off huge mouthfuls.
Dio would back off and stare down at him in shock, then look to the nearest humans for guidance. Receiving none, he would let out a little whine and settle down to wait until Zuko had eaten his fill.
Finally the kitten would wander off, find the nearest pair of human feet, and scream until someone picked him up – at which point he would promptly fall asleep.
He was a spindly little thing, all skin and bones with a distended belly. But his striped orange fur was copper bright, and his eyes were an astonishing color - bright teal, like tropical water.
Aside from getting down for a few minutes a day to play or eat, he wanted to be in contact with some member of his human family at all times. And the humans obliged.
Between pity for the little guy and her terror at finding him dead the next morning, Emma couldn’t leave him alone in a box to cry. So she let him sleep with her. His favorite spot to curl up was right against her neck, and she found that tiny ball of warmth surprisingly comforting.
Zuko’s will to live astounded her. She herself hadn’t really had the will to live for months. Deeply, truly, she had wanted to quit. To follow her husband into the ether. All that had kept her here was a stubborn refusal to orphan her son.
And then along came Zuko. No mother, no siblings. A tiny scrap of orange in a world full of giants. And yet he was so fully, fiercely alive.
The first time that Emma had tried to touch him, he had hissed and spat with all the ferocity of a Tasmanian devil. A wild thing.
Now, every time she picked him up, he purred so loud that his whole body vibrated with it. Such a low, deep sound that she couldn’t understand where it came from. He was still small enough to sit comfortably on her outstretched hand, and more fully alive than she had been in a long time.
She wondered if he knew how close he had come to dying. If he had watched his siblings fail one by one and decided in his fierce little soul that he would not go gentle into that dark night.
Emma had never been a big animal person, never understood how people could get as attached to a dog or a cat as she was to her own flesh-and-blood family. But she was in awe of this little cat. And she knew that losing him now, after seeing him fight so hard to live, would be as gut wrenching as losing an old friend.
And so they doted on him. He was always warm, always fed, never alone.
This one. This kitten would survive.
Belly distended with what would have been less than a bite of food for Diogee, he scrambled over to Emma’s feet and stood on top of them, screaming to be lifted up off of the cold kitchen floor. She picked him up and tucked him into the hood of her sweatshirt, which she now always wore backwards for the benefit of the tiny orange tabby.
He purred against her chest as he fell asleep, setting the tone for the day. The vibration moved through her, pushing back the weight of the grief that still weighed heavy on her soul.
It was as if he was recalibrating her whole body to a new frequency set to healing and growth. Pure life.
It was still early, but everyone was already outside. Lani sat out on the back porch with a cup of tea, Kai was on his morning egg hunt, and Rory was picking flowers.
There was an effortless balance of day and night here. She fell into bed just after sunset, deliciously exhausted by a day of labor, and woke at first light.
The sun rose over the water in Pualena, but she’d yet to get down to the cliffs for an unobstructed view of the sunrise. She did make it out to the back porch first thing most mornings, watching the sky over the trees turn pink and orange with the rising sun as hundreds of birds greeted the day.
By the time she got the second goat onto the milking stand, Zuko woke up from his deep sleep and fought his way out of his makeshift sling. She let him down onto the platform where the goat stood, and he opened his mouth to catch streams of fresh milk.
Emma was proud of herself. Just a couple of months ago, she had never milked a goat. Now she was practiced enough to hit that tiny target. And if she missed the first time and got some warm milk in his nose or eyes, well. It was medicinal.
His dangerous respiratory infection was finally gone, and she wondered if the raw milk had helped him to recover when his siblings hadn’t. It hurt her heart to think that there might have been one extra thing that made the difference for the other kittens, but she had done her best. They had been so terribly ill when they found them. It felt like a miracle that even one of them had survived.
Once the milk was in the fridge, she handed Zuko off to Kai and headed out to secure the fenceline. Pigs had come through again, rooting up established taro plants and eating young banana trees.
She couldn’t hate them, these capable mothers who pushed through the bottoms of fences to find bountiful food for their babies, each of them as adorable as a puppy. Still, they were a menace. If she was going to get any food out of that garden plot, she needed to keep the pigs out.
Eventually, the whole fence would need to be replaced. They would have to take it down a section at a time, put in extra fence posts, stretch the metal fencing tight, and reinforce the bottom with barbed wire. It was exhausting to even consider.
For today, she settled for carting heavy rocks across the property in a wheelbarrow and dumping them at the most vulnerable spots, places where the pigs had already pushed through or it looked like they easily could.
She’d also replaced the screen door with a magnetic screen that Diogee could push through in the hopes that he would still be able to sleep with Kai but run outside if he heard porcine intruders. It meant a whole lot of mud on the kitchen floor and Kai’s blankets, but she would tackle that extra bit of cleaning if it meant the dual benefit of her son’s comfort and garden security.
She was still hauling rocks when an unfamiliar man showed up at the front gate. Her first response was a gut-kick of fear, wondering if Lani’s ex had found them. But this man was older, with silver hair, and his face was pleasant.
“Hello,” she said as she approached the gate. “Can I help you?”
