My Cats: In Memoriam -- Beloved Companions for 13 Years |
In the morning after I got up, they would wait on this red corduroy quilt on my bed while I showered and got dressed. They relaxed like this until it was time to accompany me to the other part of the house, to be present while I ate breakfast and then sat down to my computer. After that, it was their day's aim to find a way into my lap. |
Here's a picture of my black cat on the back of the couch near the living room window. He liked to burrow, whether under a blanket, as shown here, or under a rug, or into a pile of laundry. Warm and cozy was his m.o. |
And this was my yellow cat. Vets told me it's rare for a female to have this coloring, so I guess she was a rare gem, like Peppermint Patty. She was more skittish than the other cat and would never entrust herself to an enclosed space such as under a blanket. She liked to lie couchant upon a pillow or cushion. |
A literary passage pertaining to cats From the Life of Johnson, by James Boswell Nor would it be just, under this head, to omit the fondness which he [Samuel Johnson] shewed for animals which he had taken under his protection. I never shall forget the indulgence with which he treated Hodge, his cat: for whom he himself used to go out and buy oysters, lest the servants having that trouble should take a dislike to the poor creature. . . . I recollect [Hodge] one day scrambling up Dr. Johnson's breast, apparently with much satisfaction, while my friend smiling and half-whistling, rubbed down his back, and pulled him by the tail; and when I observed he was a fine cat, saying 'why yes, Sir, but I have had cats whom I liked better than this;' and then as if perceiving Hodge to be out of countenance, adding, 'but he is a very fine cat, a very fine cat indeed.' This reminds me of the ludicrous account which he gave Mr. Langton, of the despicable state of a young Gentleman of good family. 'Sir, when I heard of him last, he was running about town shooting cats.' And then in a sort of kindly reverie, he bethought himself of his own favorite cat, and said, 'But Hodge shan't be shot; no, no, Hodge shall not be shot.' James Boswell, Life of Johnson, R.W. Chapman, editor (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1953, 1970), pp. 1216-1217. |
A brief history of my cats' lives My cats are brother and sister. They were born in 1991 under the porch of the snack bar at Sears Point Raceway, near Petaluma, CA. Although I am not a racecar enthusiast, I happened to go there for reasons related to the job I held at that time. While in line to buy some lunch, I was charmed by the sight of a mother calico cat emerging from under the porch with five or six kittens in tow. One was black, the others were yellow-striped. Except for the yellow cat that subsequently became mine, all the yellow ones had white blotches on their coats. Over the course of the next day or so, I negotiated with the young women who worked at the snack bar, who also wanted to take these kittens home, for the two I chose. When it was time for me to go home, I collected them in a large cardboard box and drove home with them to San Jose, where I then lived. They were feral kittens, hissing at me from the bottom of the box and flinching from my hands. When I got home and turned them loose in my apartment, they immediately hid behind a bookcase, and I hardly saw them for a couple days. I left out a litter box, a bowl of food, and a bowl of water, and when I returned home from work and errands, I knew they had taken advantage of these amenities. On about the third day, when I came home, they came prancing out to greet me, apparently having decided that I was their mother and that they loved me. I took them to a vet, who pronounced them healthy, estimated their age to be about six weeks, and gave them their shots. At the proper time, I had them "fixed," and got their booster shots and so on. After that we all three dwelled happily together for thirteen years. I was going to say harmoniously, but in fact the two cats sometimes squabbled and were prone to be jealous of each other. Part of the fallenness of creation, but yet grace was apparent in their beauty and their affection for me. Their lives were a gift from God who created them to me who cared for them. |
The cats who lived with me for from the age of about six weeks until 13 years both died in the winter of 2004-2005. My black, male cat developed cancer in his abdomen and died on December 2, 2004. My yellow-striped, female cat had kidney troubles and her health slowly degenerated until she too died on February 21, 2005. They gave me lots of love, affection, comfort, and companionship for the 13 years we spent together. I loved them, and I miss them now. I'm glad for the joy they added to my life during their lives. |
A Last Picture -- Summer 2004 |
During the warm months, when I kept my windows open, my cats liked to lie on the kitchen window sill and smell the western breeze. |
