I have a cat, he's a very sweet cat Henry is his name. He never causes trouble, he never even meows. Just a teeny, tiny "Eh!" is all he ever says. That is, unless he's on his way to the vet, and then the yowling comes deep from his soul, and cuts through my heart. But, this is not about his yowl, this is about his teeny, tiny "Eh!" When caught in an everyday moment of distress. I have another cat, he's a very...different cat Rooney is his name. He was found outdoors, malnourished and alone. We took him in but, he's not used to cats. He doesn't know how to BE a cat. He's learning to play, and even to cuddle, but he just doesn't GET that other cats are his friends. Especially Henry. Henry loves everyone. But Rooney does not love everyone. Nearly every day, Rooney chases Henry, and not in the fun way, and then Rooney gets in trouble. I say his name, and he looks sheepish, "I've done it again." This last time, I was fixing dinner, and I heard that teeny, tiny, "Eh!" and I spun around. Rooney was ready to pounce. I said his name (with LOTS of authority) and he ran off. Henry looked at me, grateful. Then I realized, Henry hadn't shouted, he hadn't yowled, or panicked, he just quietly said, "Eh!" and trusted that I would hear him, and fix the problem. And I did. And then I realized - This applies to me, too. It doesn't take shouting, it doesn't take panic, It just takes trusting that the One who can solve my problems is always, ALWAYS, listening. May we all have the faith of Henry.
The best time of day
is not day at all.
It is when the house settles
with a sigh and final creak.
The lamp has been switched off,
and I burrow into the flannel sheets
and a pillow the size of my head.
It is then,
in the darkness,
that the cat slowly crawls over the pillow.
I lift the blanket
and extend my right arm.
He arranges himself in the nook,
draping his paws over my arm,
and resting his head.
He may or may not purr-
But it is in that moment
that I feel pure happiness
and what it must be like
to be loved…
Three and a half years ago, my beloved black cat Sammy passed away from kidney failure. He was only three years old himself. The day after his traumatic death, I walked into the Humane Society and said simply, “I need to hold a black cat.”
The women there were very kind and accommodating to this grief-stricken girl and her strange request. Soon after, I began a years long friendship with them, and the rest of the furry residents of the Kitty Kottage.
A couple months after I began coming by regularly, an adult male black cat was dropped on their porch. The women arrived at work in the morning only to find him in a pet carrier with a note.
“Friendly neighborhood cat. Keep the carrier.”
Whether he was truly just a “neighborhood cat” or not, we’ll never know, but he was christened “Cruiser” by the staff, since he was allegedly found “cruising” around the neighborhood.
Shortly after his arrival, as I sat in their floor playing with some of the kittens, he sauntered in. He sized me up, climbed into my lap, flipped over on his back like a baby, and began to purr.
“It looks like you’ve been picked!” one of the staff members exclaimed. Indeed, it did.
Every visit would see the same behavior. The staff informed me that as an adult male black cat his chances of being adopted were slim to none. I slowly began to realize that I needed to take this enchanting creature home. That while he could never replace Sammy, he might be able to help heal the hurt, and the gaping hole left by Sammy’s death.
I brought him home in July of 2013, along with a few other cats, whose story I will tell another day. I renamed him Simon, for the character Simon Birch in the movie of the same name. He was small, but mighty.
From that day forward, our only separation was when I left the house for work. If I exercised, he walked with me. One of our favorite spots was a grove of trees out front of the house, where he would show off by sprinting up one of the trees and then posing dramatically before jumping down again. If he got tired of walking, I picked him up and carried him.
When I worked from home, he slept on top of a brown pillow I had out for him. When I showered, he stayed in the bathroom to make sure no boogeymen were there to attack me. He slept next to me, sat in my lap when I watched tv, kept me company when I was sick (which lately, had been often), posed for numerous Instagram photos, always came running when I called him, and when he heard the garage door open, I would walk in to find him waiting for me outside the door. And if, by some odd chance, he hadn’t heard the garage, I’d find him on my side of the bed, curled up next to my pillow.
His antics were so adorable to me (as any cat lover would say of their own furry child) that I created a hashtag called #SimonSays to more easily access all of his photos and the memories we had created.
He never judged, never said I looked fat, never called me stupid, never minded my moods, and most important; loved me fiercely and exclusively. Despite his semi-permanent frown, he allowed me to cradle him like a baby, and would purr contentedly.
He was also one of the smartest cats I’ve ever known. His words may have been silent, but we talked all the time, and understood each other perfectly. He healed my heart in ways I couldn’t imagine, and the only thing he deprived me of was more time.
I wanted years and years with him. I wanted more cuddle time, more adventures, more companionship. More of everything. More of him.
I didn’t get it.
Simon was in my life for approximately three years and six months. This morning, Christmas Eve morning, I found him where he loved to be most in the world, just outside our grove of trees. There were no marks on him, no signs of struggle, no blood. Just my sweet, sweet friend lying in the grass.
I still have no idea what happened, but I think I know when it did. I getting ready for the day in my bathroom when I heard a noise of distress that sounded exactly like Simon’s “voice.” It sounded like he was right under my window. I was so alarmed, that I ran and looked outside to make sure he was okay. I didn’t see him. He was hidden by the hill of grass. I found him about 20 minutes later.
Today was the day Simon says Goodbye. And my heart, while twisted with pain and inconsolable with grief, is so, so grateful that I knew him. Today and tomorrow are supposed to be days filled with family, happiness, love, and joy. Why did I lose my best friend on Christmas Eve? Why him? Why now?
It’s not fair.
But. That’s the one thing Life always promised. Never to be fair.
Goodbye, my sweet, feisty, adventurous companion. Thank you for coming into my life at the perfect time, and bringing me such love and joy. You knew me and chose to love me, and every day you let me know how much.
I miss you more than I can possibly express.
The cover design and upload went so well it was alarming. So when the power surged and my computer shut itself off in the middle of my work (despite being backed up by a surge protector whose sole job it is to prevent such a thing) I actually sighed in relief. “Okay. Whew…there’s the screw-up for today.” However, Murphy’s Law is late today, because the upload had completed prior to shutting down.
Once I finished uploading the material, I began filling out the Create Space Amazon store requirements. I had to choose a price, fill out the description, write a bio and choose my publishing category and key search words.
If you think that didn’t cause some anxiety, then you haven’t been reading this blog on the regular, have you? 😉
In possibly my most boring blog post yet, I will update you on the book accomplishments for today. For today, all I did was book.
I finished two of the four items on my to do list from yesterday. Originally, I wanted all of the photos in the book to be in color, but upon investigation on CreateSpace (our likely venue for publishing) I learned just how expensive that luxury would be. So, I had to take my Mom’s adorable, brightly colored dinosaurs and turn their green scales grey. It felt criminal to do so. It’s just not the same. 😦
She proposed I name him Arthur (or Author.) I like Veloci. Or Obby, for Obstacle, which is what he represents in the book. He is the illustration of the obstacles we had to overcome when completing our film.
What do you think? Any other ideas? Better ones?
I have a confession.
Once a week, every week, I sneak off and visit Mike. I meet up with him and kiss his face and tell him how handsome he is and how much I love him. And then I go into another room and find Wiley and tell him the same thing.
Then I try to make time to give Gigi, Dolly, Bob, Sabrina and many, many others a brief hug or kiss. I tell each of them how special they are, and how good they are, and how loved they are.
This gallery contains 22 photos.
One of my very best friends passed away one year ago today. She shared a name with one of my favorite singers, Dean Martin. When Dean sings, I feel like I’m in the company of an old friend. He’s relaxed and comfortable. Deana was the same. She was quiet, demure, and for the most part, […]
If you’ve ever wondered about the power of positive words, allow me to reintroduce Simon. For those of you who haven’t yet met him, look no further than the article entitled, “Simon Sees A Murder.” It’s two below this one. I’ll wait while you catch up.
Great. Now that you know how he feels about bath time, let me tell you a little bit more about his origin story. When I would visit him at the Humane Society before adopting him, he would run to me, leap into my lap, flip over on his back and purr. I was assured that he had ‘chosen’ me for his owner, and it seemed that was true.
However, when I took him home, something strange happened. He got tiny bumps all over his little body, and whenever I would try to pet him, he would purr furiously and LOUDLY, but immediately begin to choke and run away. I took him to the vet, got some medicine, and his bumps cleared up, but not the purr/choke issue.
I finally figured out that when I tried to pet him, he became so overwhelmed with happiness, that his purr motor was ‘overheating’ and choking him, thus causing him to run away.
He was literally becoming allergic to love.
My cat was the only witness to a murder in a bathroom. Henceforth, he feels it is his loving animal duty to prevent that same kind of murder from happening to me. I don’t mean to be macabre, but that is really the only explanation that makes sense.
Simon is one of my beautiful adult black cats adopted from the Humane Society last year. He had been left on their front porch in a carrier with a note that read: “Friendly neighborhood cat. Keep carrier.”
Simon is many things, and he is friendly, to a degree, but there is no way he was just some ‘friendly’ neighborhood cat. He’s very skittish, and frightens at the least little noise. I don’t think this is the kind of cat that would just wander up to strangers. Actually, this is the kind of cat that hides until he’s certain it’s me that’s calling for him.
This was written shortly after I found Cat. It had been years since I had a feline as a pet. Happily living with two dogs, I didn’t know what I was missing until that day in December. Cat stayed with me for several months, and was the best mouser I ever had the privilege to know.
She took walks with me, slept with me, and just generally improved my life. After I moved, she ran away after some fireworks and a run in with another family member’s dog. She had started living in the wild, and she went back to the wild. One of her ears was grown together at the tip and was her only identifying mark. I searched for weeks, months, and then a year. I still miss her.
For those of you who don’t yet know the story, “Cat Ballou” is one of my very favorite movies. It is one that I watched over and over again as a kid, and actually never gets old. It’s a comedy western and stars Jane Fonda, Lee Marvin, Dwayne Hickman and Michael Callan. Lee Marvin won the best supporting Oscar that year as the drunken “Kid Shaleen.” He famously said that half of his Oscar belonged to “a horse somewhere in the valley.” Watch the movie. You’ll see what he means.
Anyway, on December 12th, I was coming home from running some errands when I saw a cat dart across the road. Since I live on a road that is a popular “drop off zone” (a place where cats and dogs are dumped by owners who know the schmucks on this street will more than likely take them in) I stopped the car. I got out and did the ‘test.’