by Anne Cosgrove Wimberly
Photos courtesy of Jydonne Bynum
Jydonne Bynum first noticed the little gray cat during her routine walk through Norman’s Old Silk Stocking Neighborhood in January 2020. The kitty popped out of a storm drain and ran down the street. Bynum, a Norman native and medical contractor for Optum, observed how the gray cat ran away from people. She asked the local businesses if anyone intended to care for the kitty during the remaining winter months. No one committed. Bynum filled her pockets with treats for the kitty during her daily walks. She told the shop owners that she might take the kitty home.
“I hadn’t owned a cat or any pet in over a decade,” Bynum said. “I took extra blankets and toys from friends. I went to Walmart to buy litter. I slowly collected stuff from sale racks at stores.” She dumped the kitty litter into a cardboard box. She placed blankets and pillows around her house, near windows, and in nooks she thought the little gray cat would enjoy.
But time was running out. The temperatures were dropping. The COVID pandemic was blooming. Soon the streets of Norman, like many places, would be deserted. Bynum had to act quickly.
“I remember it was around Martin Luther King Day,” Bynum said. “I didn’t want her to die. She needed to be out of the cold.” She grabbed a can of cat food, got in her car, and drove to the storm drain the little kitty called home. “I sat down on the sidewalk, opened the can of food, put it my lap, and waited.”
Bynum’s plan of patience worked. The kitty came out of the storm drain, cautiously approached Bynum’s lap, stepped in, and ate the food. The kitty let Bynum pet her for about 10 minutes. Bynum didn’t want to lose her opportunity, so she lifted the little cat and placed her in the car. The short ride back to Bynum’s house was yet another test of trust.
“She jumped at the window. She could see out. I didn’t have a bin for her.” Bynum realized that the scared cat had probably never been in a car. She drove home slowly, maintaining a speed of maybe five miles an hour, which seemed to reduce the number of times the kitty jumped into the window. “The walk would have been shorter and easier,” Bynum joked.
Once home, she carried the kitten inside. She set her in a nest of blankets, but the furball found a cubbyhole to hide in. “She took to the litter box right away, though, as if she were an indoor cat,” Bynum said.
A few days later, Bynum took the cat to a veterinarian. “The vet said she’s a year old, healthy, just a really small cat.” The little gray furball with leopardlike stripes and spots weighed less than six pounds.
The vet also confirmed what Bynum had assumed was true — the cat had been feral. The telltale sign is her clipped left ear. Organizations across the United States trap, neuter or spay, vaccinate, and return (TNR) feral cats to the places where they were found. Once the cat is treated, one ear is clipped.
Getting Acquainted
Because of the COVID pandemic, Bynum had time to bond and learn about her new ward. First, the cat needed a name. “I like gems. The name Pearl came into my head.”
Bynum also studied Pearl’s unique symmetrical markings. “She’s silver with spots on her fur and skin. These are the signature markings of the Egyptian Mau.” The Egyptian Mau is a small cat, weighing six to 14 pounds. Most females weigh on the lower end, six to 10 pounds. Pearl, who is now six years old, still weighs only six pounds. “I’m sure she also has some tabby genes,” Bynum added.
Bynum initially didn’t want to confine Pearl to the house. She wondered if it would be too much stress. “We see foxes in the creek. One day, after seeing the foxes, I decided it was a good time to make her a house cat.”
Then Pearl slipped out the door. “She disappeared for a week. I looked and looked for her and couldn’t find her. I was so worried. Turns out she was under the neighbor’s house with her leg through her collar.”
Pearl wasn’t physically injured, but her ego was bruised enough that she spent the next several days hiding under the sofa. Now she spends her time in Bynum’s lap or in one of her pillowy beds watching
Bird TV (the birdfeeder) or Kitty Fox TV (the foxes and deer near the creek).
Sharing Happiness
Pearl’s petiteness filled a large gap in Bynum’s life. “She saved me from COVID, and I saved her life,” Bynum said. “I know that was a hard time for everybody. I felt less isolated because of this little furball. It’s important to have a responsibility, to take care of something else.”
Bynum changed her dinner schedule to match Pearl’s. She sings to Pearl. She talks to her. She takes photographs of her. “I take a lot of pictures in general. She’s just so adorable and does cute things.” Each year, Pearl poses in front of the Christmas tree. She’ll stand on her back end like a meerkat. She’ll cross her legs elegantly while lying on her fluffy pillows. She even runs up the stairs each evening, ready to call it a day, anticipating snuggles with Bynum.
“She makes me so happy,” Bynum said.
This Pearl definitely is a woman’s best friend.
