I love my cat, Spike. I carried him around in my jacket when he was a kitten, showing him off to friends and co-workers. I take him for car rides, and he puts his head out the window like a dog. I might be the crazy cat lady someday, but I don’t care — Spike’s worth it.
Spike has taught me more than how to love a small, furry creature, though, and the other day he gave me a lesson about Orono, the community in which I live.
As I left the house to go to school Tuesday morning, I let Spike out for his daily romp in the neighborhood. With his dog-like qualities, he followed me to the nearby bus stop, then climbed a tree and watched me board the BAT. I thought nothing of it, as he often follows me and always makes it home on his own.
A few hours later, I received a phone call from a man I didn’t know, who told me Spike had been hanging out in his yard all morning. The man saw my phone number on his collar and wanted to make sure he was all right and would make his way home.
Spike had not left the yard he saw me off at when I boarded the bus.
The loyalty of Spike and the kindness of a stranger made me think about the Orono community.
This semester has been a trying time for the UMaine community. We have dealt with undeserved violence, a natural disaster in a foreign country, a house fire and the death of our peer and friend. But we’ve also seen the University of Maine and Orono community gather in the abundant times of need these first few months of the new year.
These tragedies have certainly brought the community together, but it’s the everyday things that keep it close on a day-to-day basis: the stranger calling to make sure Spike will get home safe, the cashier at Big Apple who knows me by name, the mechanic who will listen to my car squeak at unannounced times of the day, the BAT Bus driver who makes jokes with his passengers.
Maybe I notice the small things that make Orono the close community I’m proud to be part of because I’m from Thorndike, Maine: population 712. Thorndike’s a place where Saturday night community dinners at the Grange still exist and the first car to see you pulled off on the side of the road will stop to make sure everything’s all right.
Orono is slightly larger, but I see those traits here too.
Maybe it’s because I’m a Sagittarius. I read a cheesy horoscope that said Sagittarii are blindly optimistic. Maybe that’s so, but I prefer to live in a world where my neighbors are my allies and I can depend on the strength of an entire town.
Bad things happen, but what results from those mishaps is what’s important. How we deal with tragedy, along with everyday trivialities, as a community says a lot about who we are.
Spike is like Orono. I can always depend on him to be there for me. When I returned home from school five hours after we parted ways, he was still waiting around by the bus stop and walked me home.
It doesn’t matter that when I let him out this morning, I was mad at him because he lost one of my rings in a fit of playfulness and left dirty cat prints on my white sheets. I was happy to see him and glad he curled up in a ball on the couch with me while I ate lunch. Most importantly, someone in my neighborhood in Orono cared enough to make sure I could have that experience at the end of the day.
Rhiannon Sawtelle is features editor for The Maine Campus.












