Orange is the New Cat
By Lloyd Austin, M.D.O.C. Kinross Facility
When the scruffy orange cat showed up in the prison yard, I was one of the first to go out there and pet it. I hadn’t touched a cat or dog in years. I spent at least twenty minutes crouched down by the dumpster behind the kitchen as the cat rolled around and luxuriated beneath my attention. What he was expressing outwardly I was feeling inwardly. It was an amazing bit of grace to feel him under my hand and know that I was enriching the life of another creature with something so simple as my care. I believe that caring for something or someone in need is what make us human. Over the next few days, I watched as other prisoners responded to the cat.
Every yard period a group of prisoners would gather there. They would stand around talking and taking turns petting the cat. These were guys you wouldn’t usually find talking to each other. Several times I saw an officer standing in the group. Not chasing people away, but just watching and seeming to enjoy it along with the prisoners. Bowls of water appeared along with bread placed wisely under the edge of the dumpster to keep the seagulls from getting it. The cat was obviously a stray and in bad shape. One of the prisoners brought out his small, blunt nosed scissors and trimmed burrs and matted fur off him.
People said, “That cat sure came to the right place, he’s being treated link a king!” This was true, but as I watched I was thinking about what the cat was doing for us. There’s a lot of talk about what’s wrong with prisons in America. We need more programs; we need more psychologists or treatments of various kinds. Some even talk about making prisons more kind, but I think what we really need is a chance to practice kindness ourselves. Not receive it but give it.
After many years here I know that kindness is not a value that’s encouraged. For me to survive here I’ve had to learn to mind my own business, keep my head down and never let myself be vulnerable. For a few days a raggedy orange cat disrupted the code of our prison culture. They’ve taken him away now, hopefully to a decent home. It did my heart good to see the effect he had on me and the men here. He didn’t have a PhD; wasn’t a criminologist nor a psychologist. But by simply saying, “I need help here” he did something for us that none of the experts seem capable of doing. He needed us, and we needed to be needed. I believe we all do!