Cat Tales

"I got cat class and I got cat style."

A Tale Told in Two Parts

Love Letter to Grey No.1

It was an afternoon in April when we met. I had been up all night so that I could be in line for an exclusive Tori Amos concert at The Avalon in Boston. I wasn't sure which I was more excited about: being one of the two hundred to get a ticket or meeting my potential kitten later that day. I'd left messages with all the shelters looking for a cat like you after my landlord had reluctantly given me permission (I'd cried - and promised to adopt a declawed cat). "We don't get many declawed cats," I was told, but just a few days later a place in Arlington called me.

You'd been dropped off that morning by a couple who was having a baby; they didn't want you anymore. You were only 11 months. You were full grown, but never big. When the cage door swung open you stepped halfway out and gazed at me with your green eyes. I said, "Ohhh, that's him! He's the one!" and you walked over to me. That's when I saw that the tip of your tail was pure white, like it had been dipped in paint. I signed all the papers, got on the bus, and took you to Harvard Square. You seemed very timid and afraid, so instead of getting on the subway I walked down Mass Ave to Central Square with you. You weighed a ton in your big carrier, but I was so thrilled. I didn't want to be away from you, but I gave you some time alone in my room to adjust. My friend and I came back from dinner and had a glass of wine when you came out to meet us.

That was back in 1998. You came with the name of Fog, and since you responded I didn't feel right about changing it. Over the years people would say, "Ohhh, like the Carl Sandburg poem?" Yeah, sure, like that :) If I could have chosen your name it would have been shadow for your grey coloring and because you never left my side. It was annoying sometimes, like when I'd get up in the night to use the bathroom and you wouldn't just wait for me. You had to come, too. You followed me everywhere...you slept at night by my side instead of running about like the nocturnal thing you were supposed to be.

We saw each other grow up. You moved around the country with me. We were never apart for more than a few days.

You loved to be held, but only in a certain way. I remember how you'd feel in my arms and your deep rumble that translated to a purr.

I remember how much you loved to play fetch with foam balls. I remember you bringing me your toys while I slept and piling them on top of me. I remember your fascination with pipe cleaners and how you'd steal them when you could and then leave them for me in your food dish.

You didn't care for other cats, but one day you decided you liked a cat named Clover so we kept her. She got very sick after a year and died a block from the hospital. We were both heartbroken. A few months pass when a couple asked if we'd like to adopt one of their rescues - "only if you have a little grey girl," I replied. And they did. I named her Lily after the flower that means "dare to love again." And we did.

At first you didn't understand what that one pound, formula eating, gremlin was, but she sure loved you! She'd follow you around wanting to cuddle...but she was messy and you didn't want anything to do with her. You hated messes. Finally you took her under your wing and would lick her clean. You taught her to groom, and not to use her claws. Your constant grooming led to her needing her fur cut short - otherwise you would have choked on the furball that was Lily.

The years went by. You never left my side. Even on our last night together you slept next to me. It was your favorite place to be. You'd nestle there as I relaxed and either typed on my laptop or watched something. My body was so achy from the pregnancy that we spent a lot of time there surrounded by pillows. You'd started to lose your mind - dementia - and Brandon and I were worried. We talked about how much time was fair for you - we worried about how comfortable you were. You had all sorts of other symptoms but I'll let you keep your dignity and not mention them. Even so you still had your same goofy spirit. On Thanksgiving you decided you loved gnawing on corncobs - Brandon, my dad and I just laughed.

You were a loyal cat - devoted until the end. That last morning when I dashed out the door, late. I said, "Goodbye kittens! See you later!"

But I wouldn't.

That was it.

I cry every day, especially at night. I wonder if you're out there, lost, confused, and frightened...but I don't think you are. When I saw the apartment...the fire that had been at both doors, and rained from the ceiling...I still called your name. I called and I called. I still call as I walk alone through the neighborhood. Whenever I see a good kitten-hiding-spot I call for you both, but your names fall heavy, with a thud.

Nighttime is the worst. I wonder what your last moments were like. I hope you know that I loved you with more than my whole heart - I loved you with my soul. You were my favorite boy-cat. I wish I could have you back. I never, ever, ever dreamed your life would end that way. I thought you'd die in my arms with Brandon nearby. He loved you, too. He gave you treats and played wild games with you. You seemed grumpy, but I knew by the way you'd perk up and run to the door before I could even hear him that Brandon was home and you were excited.

I hope you felt loved. I hope you didn't feel abandoned. I hope it was quick and painless.

I wish this wasn't real.
Rest, sweet Fog.
I don't know when I'll stop hurting.
I don't know when the tears will calm.
But...
You'll live on forever in my memory.
I'm so sorry it happened this way.
<3

Love Letter To Grey No. 2

My dearest Lily AKA Lilah, Bean, Koala Bear, Screamapillar, and Squirrel-girl,

It is hard to think of you as being gone...you were so full of life! You were born on Thanksgiving in a trailer park in Marlboro, Mass. You were part of a get-rich-scheme where the family had invested in a purebred Himalayan cat to breed with other Himalayans and make millions. However, they weren't too bright, and let your mama be an un-spayed outdoor cat. She met your dad, a grey from around the way. Some people I knew were keeping track of the situation and encouraging the owners to have their lady spayed and meanwhile find homes for the kittens. You lived in a bathtub with your brothers, but the local children had become rough so you were taken from your mama early and rode into the city on the shoulder of a woman named Heather, just after new years.

You didn't even weigh a pound and weren't fully weened.

I'd spent the day buying you girlie kitten toys at the pet shop because you were coming early and I wasn't prepared. But you were so tiny! Your whole body filled the palm of my hand. You didn't look real - mostly like a mogwai. Back then your eyes were as grey as your fur. The toys I'd gotten were bigger than you and I had to convert a shoebox lid into a litter box - but even that was almost too high for you to climb in and out of. You fell on your face a lot. You played with dustbunnies and you looked like one, too! Your favorite toy was the balled up receipt for your pretty things. Your meow was high pitched and I could hear it from far away...you found yourself a surrogate, and that was me. I'd make you dishes of formula goo in the morning and in the evening. You'd play in hard bursts, then find a way up to my chest, lay on my heart, and either fall asleep there or another cozy spot...but you always checked in.

Fog wasn't allowed in the room yet because you were so small, but he was anxious to meet you. He thought you were an alien and needed to investigate. You thought he was THE COOLEST and that the white tip of his tail was a built in toy for you. He was unamused. He'd sit just out of your reach and you'd jump and jump. One day you'd grown enough to jump onto his neck - he was so alarmed! He didn't know what to think, but mostly he didn't like you. That didn't stop you from thinking he was your hero. You wanted to be just like him, and since he was declawed you didn't think to turn on your claws often; lucky for me. You were so cute it was unreal.

I started you on a harness and leash right away. Technically they were a gift from my brother because he'd given me money for my birthday and I thought what's the girliest thing I can get with this? Oh, a pink and silver kitten leash set! Oh, yes. You marched around with your harness on until you were comfy and then I took you out into the great big world. You LOVED it! You loved to roll around on the ground - on the hot concrete, soft grass, and dirty dirt. You chased moths, leaping into the air! My heart soared with yours - you were so happy! When autumn came and the New England leaves fell, you didn't want to hear them crunch, nor did you want to frolic in the snowflakes. Together we hibernated.

As you got bigger you also got fluffier. There was no end to the poofy. When we moved to Virginia something had to be done: you got your first lion cut. You looked so sassy - I have some amazing photographs of you, little show off. Hopefully they can be recovered, but if not I can still see you. I remember how you looked on the silver chair, how you blended in. I remember you watching TV - a show about rats, while standing on your hindlegs, paws on the television screen. I remember when I adopted my first set of rats and the look on your face. I remember when you tested those rats and were put in your place. Years later I remember you and Holly playing chase all over my tiny Philadelphia apartment.

Your eyes had turned from grey to orange. You always looked shocked. You allowed Karin and I to put a Miss April t-shirt on you over New Year's Eve and we also fed you and Fog kitty ice cream bars (who knew they made those!). You only liked fish flavored things. You continued to get your furcuts and delighted in wearing snuggly things for days - you had your favorite outfits and the ones you'd wear for a few to amuse me. You liked to stick your head under lamps to warm your ears in the winter, and in the summer you were the matrix of catching flying insects. You also cuddled under blankets. The only human food you liked were delicate bites of toast or pastries and occasionally whipped cream. You took each bite gently and timidly - the opposite of Fog - and so I made sure you had room to be you and enjoy your treat.

You were noisy. You sounded like a Mario-character when you'd jump up onto things. ...and you'd shriek - SCREAM! You were never more than seven pounds, but your voice was like a locomotive. Around new people you were very shy, but you liked boys. You knew who my family was and always ran to spend time with them. You were painfully sweet, and you made my heart ache with love.

Since our difficult move to Philadelphia you didn't like to be far from me when I was home, and you always greeted me at the door. We'd been especially close this past fall and winter. You'd come to bed at the same time as me, climb under the covers, and lay against my back or my belly. You warmed the aches of pregnancy and used my belly as your perch when I'd be up crocheting and watching shows on my laptop. I wondered when you'd figure out that there was someone in my belly - I wondered how you'd react when the baby came. You knew something was up, and one night when I pulled out the baby clothes to take inventory on what we had/still needed you rolled around on everything...not typical cat-rolls, but a possessive curl-scoot, and then snoozed on your head in the middle of Tristan's things. ...and that was that. You were the princess. We all knew that. Fog had learned to bow to you from the moment he decided you were worth grooming and I was head over heels when you'd shower me with attention.

Our last night together you sat on Brandon's lap for the first time. You played with him all the time, and even resurrected your old game of fetch with the plastic ring from bottles to show off for him. That night, though, you laid on his leg, flipped your tail, and looked at home. Later we went into the bedroom and you sat on my baby bump while I crocheted the blanket for Tristan. I'd cover you with the blanket since you liked to be cozy and that's how I could measure it.

That night I picked you up and held you, your front paws on my shoulder and I snuggled my face against your fur. You smelled like cookies. You smelled like warm, delicious cookies, and I almost called Brandon because you were usually such a stinky cat and he'd never believe me that you smelled so sweet...but I didn't want to disturb the moment. I held you, expecting you to jump away, but you didn't. I thought, this is one of those moments I want to remember the rest of my life, long after you're gone. I put it deep in my heart; buried treasure.

You hung out with me as I brushed my teeth, slept at my feet, then greeted me in the morning with chirps. I fed you both, then got ready for my day out.

"Goodbye, kittennnnnnnns!"

Goodbye, Lilah.

I'm left with the warmth of your body against my right cheek and the scent of cookies. That isn't the only moment that I remember, but it's certainly the most vivid. It's really hard to let go of the hope - the hope that you're still out there and we'll find each other.

You were perfect.
I named you after a flower that means, "dare to love again."
I dared...but you broke my heart.
In the wake of your death I understand that to love you for the seven lucky years that I had you was the biggest gift of all. You made me smile countless smiles. You filled my heart with laughter and joy. You soothed my anxiety, comforted my soul. You helped me through so many hard times.

I'm sorry I wasn't there to help you get out of the apartment.
I'm so sorry, pretty.

My only comfort in this is that you had Fog with you and that it was quick...
but that comfort is cold. It isn't really comforting at all.

Sometimes I wake up and see your big, fluppy head staring at me while I sleep...
but then I wake up for real, and you're gone.

I want you back.
I miss you.

You're gone...
but I can't let go.
I don't know how to let go.
It can't be over.
Losing you...
is
so
sad.
<3

Why are you the hardest?
Love,
me