Chicken Soup for the Soul

The Gentlest Need 
At least once a day our old black cat comes to one of us in a way that 
we've all come to see as a special request. It does not mean he wants to 
be fed or to be let out or anything of that sort. His need is for something 
very different. 
If you have a lap handy, he'll jump into it; if you don't, he's likely to 
stand there looking wistful until you make him one. Once in it, he 
begins to vibrate almost before you stroke his back, scratch his chin and 
tell him over and over what a good kitty he is. Then his motor really 
revs up; he squirms to get comfortable; he "makes big hands." Every 
once in a while one of his purrs gets out of control and turns into a 
snort. He looks at you with wide open eyes of adoration, and he gives 
you the cat's long slow blink of ultimate trust. 
After a while, little by little, he quiets down. If he senses that it's all 
right, he may stay in your lap for a cozy nap. But he is just as likely to 
hop down and stroll away about his business. Either way, he's all right. 
Our daughter puts it simply: "Blackie needs to be purred." 
In our household he isn't the only one who has that need: I share it and 
so does my wife. We know the need isn't exclusive to any one age 
group. Still, because I am a schoolman as well as a parent, I associate it 
especially with youngsters, with their quick, impulsive need for a hug, a 
warm lap, a hand held out, a coverlet tucked in, not because anything's 
wrong, not because anything needs doing, just because that's the way 
they are. 
There are a lot of things I'd like to do for all children. If I could do just 
one, it would be this: to guarantee every child, everywhere, at least one 
good purring every day. 
Kids, like cats, need time to purr. 
Fred T. Wilhelms 

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Bopsy 
The 26-year-old mother stared down at her son who was dying of 
terminal leukemia. Although her heart was filled with sadness, she also 
had a strong feeling of determination. Like any parent she wanted her 
son to grow up and fulfill all his dreams. Now that was no longer 
possible. The leukemia would see to that. But she still wanted her son's 
dreams to come true. 
She took her son's hand and asked, "Bopsy, did you ever think about 
what you wanted to be when you grew up? Did you ever dream and 
wish about what you would do with your life?" 
"Mommy, I always wanted to be a fireman when I grew up." 
Mom smiled back and said, "Let's see if we can make your wish come 
true." Later that day she went to her local fire department in Phoenix, 
Arizona, where she met Fireman Bob, who had a heart as big as 
Phoenix. She explained her son's final wish and asked if it might be 
possible to give her six-year-old son a ride around the block on a fire 
engine. 
Fireman Bob said, "Look, we can do better than that. If you'll have your 
son ready at seven o'clock Wednesday morning, we'll make him an 
honorary fireman for the whole day. He can come down to the fire 
station, eat with us, go out on all the fire calls, the whole nine yards! 
And, if you'll give us his sizes, we'll get a real fire uniform made for 
him, with a real fire hat—not a toy one—with the emblem of the 
Phoenix Fire Department on it, a yellow slicker like we wear and rubber 
boots. They're all manufactured right here in Phoenix, so we can get 
them fast." 
Three days later Fireman Bob picked up Bopsy, dressed him in his fire 
uniform and escorted him from his hospital bed to the waiting hook and 
ladder truck. Bopsy got to sit up on the back of the truck and help steer 
it back to the fire station. He was in heaven. 
There were three fire calls in Phoenix that day and Bopsy got to go out 
on all three calls. He rode in the different fire engines, the paramedics' 
van and even the fire chief's car. He was also videotaped for the local 
news program. 
Having his dream come true, with all the love and attention that was 
lavished upon him, so deeply touched Bopsy that he lived three months 
longer than any doctor thought possible. 

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One night all of his vital signs began to drop dramatically and the head 
nurse, who believed in the Hospice concept that no one should die 
alone, began to call the family members to the hospital. Then she 
remembered the day Bopsy had spent as a fireman, so she called the fire 
chief and asked if it would be possible to send a fireman in uniform to 
the hospital to be with Bopsy as he made his transition. The chief 
replied, "We can do better than that. We'll be there in five minutes. Will 
you please do me a favor? When you hear the sirens screaming and see 
the lights flashing, will you announce over the PA system that there is 
not a fire? It's just the fire department coming to see one of its finest 
members one more time. And will you open the window to his room? 
Thanks." 
About five minutes later a hook and ladder truck arrived at the hospital, 
extended its ladder up to Bopsy's third floor open window and 14 
firemen and two fire-women climbed up the ladder into Bopsy's room. 
With his mother's permission, they hugged him and held him and told 
him how much they loved him. 
With his dying breath, Bopsy looked up at the fire chief and said, 
"Chief, am I really a fireman now?" 
"Bopsy, you are," the chief said. 
With those words, Bopsy smiled and closed his eyes for the last time. 
Jack Canfield and Mark V. Hansen 

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