| | Our 2022 Community Partner
While the challenges continue, so do the good works done by our neighbors, our teachers, our health care providers, our volunteers and so many others. This is their story. Ledyard National Bank is proud to support the 2022 Hometown Heroes, who were nominated by members of the community and selected by editors of the Concord Monitor. Nominate your Hometown Hero Today. |
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| | Hometown Heroes: Saving cats from the elements is Al Cilley’s mission
By RAY DUCKLER Monitor staff
Al Cilley’s heart is working at 20 percent capacity, but don’t try telling that to the cats he saves, or the people who later adopt them.
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| They see a man with a healthy, strong, compassionate heart. A heart that pumps joy into the lives of the people who have adopted one of the hundreds – thousands? – of the homeless, sometimes feral cats that Cilley has caught, saving them from the harshness of winter and the never-ending quest for food.
“Without Al,” wrote Lisa Shay Cameron of Concord, “I would not have been able to adopt Rupert, who I named Atticus. Those four years with Atticus were amazing and I owe that time with him to Al.”
That’s why Cameron nominated Cilley for the Monitor’s Hometown Hero series. In between paving jobs, in the early morning and then again around dinnertime, Cilley leaves food and water at his ‘shelters’ around the city.
These are makeshift homes, built with tote bins, straw, palates and a commitment that Cilley says pushes him to the spots every day, no matter the weather.
Every day?
“Every day,” Cilley insisted.
His route takes him from the woods behind the Manchester Street Sunoco to five other locations: below the Loudon Road bridge; the liquor enforcement building; the Department of Transportation; the Concord Center; and the Friendly Kitchen.
He’s built homes for the cats, plastic bins with holes cut out, allowing the cats to dine inside. He’s got the happiest stories to tell, like the one about the bond created between Cameron and Atticus, or discovering and saving six kittens.
There’s sadness, too. One of the kittens mentioned above, a seventh, died. A cat was rescued but later went blind. Some cats are skin and bones, their fur falling out gradually.
Meanwhile, nothing, it seems, can stop Cilley from caring for Concord’s cats. He’s suffered great hardships – including the death of a daughter from a Covid-related infection and four heart attacks – in recent years that have slowed him to a shuffle.
He keeps his philosophy simple, saying about his recent struggles, “One of them things, I guess.”
He still managed a smile and, in fact, smiled a lot. Whatever pain existed was buried somewhere, and Cilley, 75, has come to grips with his heart condition, fully aware that he doesn’t have nine lives.
“If I have another heart attack, I don’t think I’m going to make it,” Cilley said. “There’s too much damage to the heart right now.”
Cilley’s seeming indifference and refusal to slow down became a sore spot in the Cilley world. His wife and children hounded him, telling him to take better care of himself. His son, Al Cilley Jr., who owns a local property care business, said his father is stubborn.
“Everyone has told him to stop,” Cilley Jr. said. “He’s not going to listen. I’m sure he’ll die doing it. He’s had a pretty decent life and it’s nice if he goes out the way he wants.”
Wrote Cameron in her email to the Monitor: “The last (heart attack) was very serious. He may become unable to continue to help the cats that need him. He really needs a hand or many hands to give him the peace of mind so that he knows the cats are being cared for by others.”
But as long as the man can walk, no matter how slowly, Cilley Sr. said, he has no plans to stop caring for the cats. His passion to feed stray cats and, sometimes through local organizations, help them find new homes is too powerful.
That surfaced four years ago. According to Cilley, the heat was oppressive that day. He rescued a cat from a car at the Friendly Kitchen, peeling back plastic spread across the back window to cool the cat off before this turned into a catastrophe.
Six months later, the cops busted him for criminal trespassing and breaking and entering. He was cuffed, fingerprinted, photographed, the works. A judge imposed no fine and told Cilley there will be no punishment if he stays out of trouble for one year.
“I realize the police have a job to do,” Cilley said at the time. “But it was a 90-something degree day, and the only thing I was thinking about was the cat.”
Once in recent memory and only once, after his last heart attack, was Cilley unable to make his rounds. He spent three days in the hospital. His son and friends filled in, making the deliveries and changing the water.
Cilley Sr. said there was extra motivation for loved ones to help.
“They knew I wouldn’t stay in (the hospital) if they didn’t do it,” Cilley Sr. said. “They knew I’d be sneaking out of the place.”
He’s back, a month after his latest setback. Last Wednesday, he showed visitors the photo album he had in his van, and he clicked through tiny photos on his flip phone.
He identified each cat, adding a story where necessary. He showed a photo of Cameron’s late cat, Atticus, and she showed the six kittens who survived their ordeal out in the middle of nowhere.
He showed Bootsy, Checkers, No-Tail and Shorty. Bootsy lived in Cilley’s van, staying warm with a heater, until he scooted off into the woods a year ago.
Cilley said he hopes Bootsy found a home.
Before leaving the Sunoco parking lot and heading into the woods, he opened a fresh bag of Special Kitty, positioned on the passenger’s seat of his faded-white van.
He had another huge bag, this one Friskies, and dozens of wet canned food in the back. He ventured into the woods, hidden by two massive dump trucks, and along a narrow trail carrying two food-filled bowls, several cans of wet food and water in a plastic milk container.
The path featured some steep inclines, roots, unsure footing in dirt, and logs spread across the trail. Somehow, someway, Cilley says he clears the snow from all his shelters, creating a safe path for himself and his four-legged friends.
“Four hours a day,” Cilley said. “Sometimes in the morning, sometimes at night. I’m trying to get them all out of here before something happens to me and they’re stuck in here alone.”
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