"Just" a Cat? No way...

Today, we had a very sad loss. Baby Kitty (a lovely cat, gorgeous, with at least three "official" names -- Coffee Badger, Snotspot, and Crema) was hit by a car on the street outside out house, and was killed immediately. I still cannot believe she isn't here, on the sofa, curled up in her spot, loving being close to her humans.

I know some will say, "Well, it was just a cat"... Baby Kitty was so far from being "just" a cat, I can't tell you. It's amazing to me that a little cat -- probably only about nine months old, and weighing maybe five pounds -- could leave such a hole in our lives.

Baby Kitty was a stray, as far as we know. She attached herself to a friend of my son's, in the parking lot of the local community college. As I understand it, she followed the friend to class, and that was it... He had to adopt her... Unfortunately, the friend couldn't keep Baby Kitty, so my son volunteered to adopt her.

When the spouse and I came back from Hawaii last month, we opened the door to our house, and there was this gorgeous little cat. Mostly Siamese, with the most incredible blue eyes I have EVER seen on a cat. She was small, but elegant. Her coat was cream and brown, and she had a black spot by her nose... Leading her to be named "Snotspot" by my son. I objected, because this gorgeous feline could NOT be saddled with such an embarrassing name... I called her "Crema" . . . not anyone's favorite name, but I had to put something down on the vet's paperwork. I could have called her "Latte" or "Frappaccino"... But, she was always just "Baby Kitty" to us...

This cat was extraordinarily attached to her humans. She loved to climb up on your shoulders, and curl herself around your neck, purring madly. If you were sitting in a chair, working on your laptop or whatever, it didn't bother her a bit to leap up on your back, navigate across your shoulders (sometimes right over your head), down your chest, across your lap, and then either keep on going or (as cats will do) lay right down on whatever it is you were working on. She would follow me, or The Spouse, on our daily rounds around the house and in the driveway and elsewhere on the property. She had to be RIGHT THERE with you... preferably, right under your feet...

She was a wonderful guard cat -- constantly on the alert for new folks who were coming into her territory. If she heard the contractors show up in the morning (we're having our kitchen redone), she'd alert us, her ears would go up, and she needed to fly out the door to inspect them, and whatever goodies they might have in their truck...

When I would wash the dishes, she'd run into the room, and flop down by my feet, or get up on the sink -- who knew what exciting things might happen, involving soap and water! When I'd water the plants in the garden, with my watering can (with the sprinkler attachment on the end), she'd be right there, trying to figure out what was going on, and liking the wet leaves... When I got into the bathtub, she'd get up on the rim, sit on the rim like the majestic feline she was, a dead ringer for some ancient Egyptian god-cat, and try to figure out what that mysterious thing was that stood between her and the ledge inside the tub (hint: it was water)... And, at dinner time, when I banged on the can of wet food, she'd come flying in from whatever adventure she'd been on, howling like a starved demon... After scarfing down her dinner (as well as the portion of wet food I'd put in the other cat's bowl), she'd jump up on the sofa with The Spouse and me, and curl up in "her corner", to lick herself, and finally just curl up for a blissful sleep. In the morning, if she was not allowed into the master bathroom (to wrestle the bath mat into submission and try and figure out why we were standing under a falling water stream), she'd cry and howl... And, if there were clean clothes folded on the bed, that was the best thing of all... a ready-made nesting place!

She recently discovered lizards -- small ones -- and was enchanted to find out how much more fun they were than fake fabric catnip-stuffed mice! She'd hunt bugs, too, and was starting to eye the birds that flock in the trees around our house. I don't know if she had yet discovered the deer that come down the creek each day...

Baby Kitty was pretty much all Siamese, as best as I can figure. She was sleek and elegant, and had the most beautiful blue eyes I have ever, ever seen on a cat. She was, all in all, gorgeous. I've had beautiful cats before, and Miss Pudge (our older cat) is pretty darn sleek herself (if a tad large), but Baby Kitty was . . . well, not sure . . . a stunner... She was a loving cat... I'd say she was almost dog-like in her attitudes, but that would surely piss off either the cat lover contingent or the dog lover contingent... She was the most mellow cat I've ever held... she'd just lay in your arms, not try to wiggle out, and let you futz with her to your heart's content... I shall miss her terribly...

So, "just a cat"? Hmmm, I think not. That's like saying, "just a best friend", or "just a husband", or "just a piece of my heart"... She livened up this house like a force of nature. She got Miss Pudge to move around again, after our really really old cat wandered off to a better place a few months ago... She wiggled her way into The Spouse's heart... She even got me to be a gibbering, cat-talking-to slave...

I sat with her in my lap for a while, before she was buried, stroking her, and telling her she was the best little cat ever, and the sweetest girl, and the prettiest kitten... She was still warm... I think she would have liked it, laying in my lap, in the gentle sun, under the trees, with a slight breeze... She is buried, wrapped in a beautiful blue towel that matches her eyes, in the corner of our garden, under the Japanese maple, behind the camellia bushes, close to the new azalea bushes that she was busily investigating just yesterday. There are dragonflies, and birds, and lizards to chase... I hope her soul (I'm sure cats have souls) (at least this one did/does) is enjoying her eternal play there... She'll always be in my mind and my heart, leaping through the vinca plants in the back of the house, pouncing on the bugs in the azaleas, and helping me dead-head the rhododendrons...

So, no, she was most definitely NOT just a cat. Like any beloved person in one's life, there will never be another like her. We miss her.

Mother's Day and Me...

I was going to title this post "Ruminations on Mother's Day", but I used that big word on the last entry... Can't keep doing that...

So, today, I was thinking about being a mom. You know, when I was little, I never, ever thought about growing up, getting married and having kids myself... No doubt a result of my really miserable mother-child interactions as a kid. I did have a fantasy about being a kindergarten teacher, however... I really liked little kids, even when I was a young thing... (Maybe that was some deeply-hidden and disguised maternal instinct...) Anyway, I grew up, led an aimless (but exciting) life, and finally got married, again, at the ancient age of 32... Then, boom! The breeding instinct kicked in with a vengence! My husband and I never really discussed having children (at least as I recall), so it's unclear to me, sitting here right now, years later, how it was that I ended up getting pregnant. (Don't make any smart-alec replies, please, I'm not talking about the physical aspects of it...) But, I do remember checking the pregnancy test strip and feeling very weird when it showed "pregnant" ... Weird... Totally... Like, this can't really be happening... I don't think I was sick with my first pregnancy; in fact, I recall feeling wildly, hugely sexy, powerful and energetic! (I have photos of me, pregnant, and I think I looked a lot like a whale in drag...) I could only eat pizza -- and lots of it -- and drink Coca-Cola... Everything else made me queasy... I don't think I thought, a lot, about the whole transition that was to come, but I can't tell you why. The spouse and I went to all the childbirth prep class, but I thought it was all nothing to do with me.

And then, labor... Holy moley, talk about an eye-opening experience. Enough about that. Long story short, a day later, there I am, with this little thing squealing (quietly) in my arms. I don't think it hit me for a few years what I had done! Really! It just seemed pretty natural and non-dramatic. My son was the dream baby -- I thought all babies were like this, so I got pregnant, AGAIN. My daughter was a TOTALLY different experience from day one. And, it continues to be wildly different with each kid, to this day. If I wasn't totally conscious at both births, it would not seem conceivable that they came from the same set of parents.

Anyway where did I start with this post... Oh, yeah, Mother's Day... I still, sometimes, can't fathom what being a mother is all about. I keep thinking that, at some point, I'll wake up and I'll have a second chance to really be a mom. It has all gone by so fast... One day, they're little neonates, the next day they're all big and graduating college... What's up with that?

I think I've done a good job being a mom, all things considered. I didn't have a great role model, and my husband didn't have a great role model either, in terms of parenting... But, how many people do, really? I wonder about that... There are days I think everyone should go through some sort of (mandatory) parenting class(es)... But, how realistic is that... And, anyway, you never know how good a job you've done, really... I mean, the results last as long as your kids (and their kids) (if any) live... Usually, you're not there to know what's occurred. Or, even if you're alive, you'll never really know... It's kind of like tossing a message in a bottle into the ocean... you just don't know where it'll go, who'll find it, and where and/or when, and what impact (if any) that message will have. Or the message can be destroyed or eaten by a sea creature or whatever... Talk about a cosmic crap shoot...

Am I glad I went ahead and had children? Yes, I am. (Not that it would do me much good if I weren't glad... talk about barn doors and horses...) My children are fascinating to me. They have broken my heart and filled me with such love and joy, I can't even explain it. I don't consider them reflections on me, nor part of me. I think of myself as a vessel, through which they came into the world. They have no obligations to me, other than to be the best that they can be. Their failures are their own, their successes are their own. They are their own people. Individuals, whole and separate. I am thrilled that they seem to love me, and want to talk with me. (Believe me, given my history and my husband's history with our respective parents, that's HUGE...) I hope that they have good lives, find love, and have children if that's what they want to do...

So, yes, Mother's Day... I don't need brunch or flowers or something special. In fact, I cleaned up the tool room at our rental house, and shlepped pipe and wood and generally worked my butt off. It was fine. I cooked a great dinner, and had a nice glass of wine. I'm healthy, my hair looks good, my sense of humor is (basically) intact, and I have relatively full possession of my faculties... All in all, not too bad... Did I call my mom? Nope. Do I feel bad about that? Nope. Never even occurred to me... A shame, really, but that's the hand that was dealt to me. I wonder, sometimes, what cosmic lesson I'm meant to learn from all that...

I hope all of you are doing well, and enjoying the day (well, at this point, the evening)...

Cheers!