Bella

Cats. Pets. Animals in general… have been part of my life since my early childhood. My family had a small farm for a few years in my youth. We raised cows, chickens, ducks, geese, rabbits and horses. We also had dogs and when I was about 6 years old, I was given my first cat. Sassy was aptly named. As an 8 or 10 week old kitten she walked up to our Lab who was sleeping in front of a roaring fire. She placed herself between his fore legs and chest, kind of spun into positions as cats often do, and went to sleep. This caused the Lab great concern as he moved his head to look at what hairy object had made itself at home between him and the fire – but laying right up against him! If you have never seen a dog look concerned – or perhaps a look of consternation – you haven’t really known a dog. He alternately looked at the cat and then at us as if to say, “what do I do now?” But he didn’t move from that spot, almost afraid of what this little ball of fur would do.

Sassy had a sister – also aptly named – Cuddles. She wanted nothing more than a warm lap to sleep on and to be petted and scratched. She would lay there cuddling and purring as long as you would allow, and showed no grudge if you had to move her. She was simply the sweetest cat alive.

My mother probably did the most to instill a love of cats in me. She loved them. We had a number of them over the years. Sassy and Cuddles lived to ripe old age of 18 and 19, but in the interim we had Peanuts, Oscar and Caesar as well as visits from strays Lady and Sam (who deposited Peanuts and Oscar with us). Lady was perhaps the smallest cat I have ever seen. Being an abandoned cat has definite draw-backs in the food department. She was most likely severely malnourished as a kitten causing her slight stature. In the higher elevations of western New York food must have been hard to come by for cats. Sam was full grown but looked as if he were 100 years old. Mangy hair and cut ears – he looked like a prize fighter that had a dozen too many fights. Yet he was friendly and my mother (and us kids) took pity on him. We often wondered about how he lost the front end of his meow. His mouth would open and form the “me” part but all we heard was …oowww. One day he just didn’t show up. I like to think he moved on, but I had a feeling it was the cat equivalent of Inlé-rah from Watership Down. Likewise Lady moved on, leaving her precious offspring in our care.

Years later after my marriage my mother was living with us due to failing health. By this time all the cats of my youth had been called home and we were without a pet. I told myself we were too busy for pets but in reality the loss of each pet along the way was extremely difficult.

Then one day my wife came home from work with a kitten she had found in an armadillo hole. She had heard his faint meow and tracked it to the source. She bravely reached into the hole and grabbed the little fellow who wound up being our beautiful Indy; a Maine-coon mix with all the markings but not the size. When I came home from work the look in my wife’s eyes told me we were keeping him.

This bit of providence ended up being a wonderful blessing for my mother who was suffering terribly from numerous heath issues. Indy was a source of great joy for her. He greeted her every morning with a meow and spent a number of hours in her room. He was always fascinated when she filed her nails and would steal the emery board right from her hand if she let her guard down. Of course, like all cats, he had an obsession with small objects and we would continually find her belongings under the couch or kitchen table, basically anywhere something small would get caught up when a cat was batting it around. My mom loved Indy and I’m glad he came into our lives when he did because my mom passed away a little over a year later. He gave her untold joys in her time of suffering and I believe he was sent by God to us for just that reason.

The grief of her passing was mitigated by the picture in my mind of her being in heaven with all those cats that had gone before her. Some may argue with me about cats in heaven but I believe heaven is beyond anything we could think of or imagine – not the opposite of it. And I believe my mother would be surrounded by cats as well as her family in heaven. I picture her with Cuddles on her lap, Sassy and Peanuts on the couch next to her, Oscar and Caesar chasing some little thing around her. And Sam, old beat up Sam is there too, with a thick coat of shiny grey hair and his full meow. Lying next to him is Lady, that tiny sweetheart who enriched our lives when she gave us charge of Oscar and Peanuts.

All things are new. Mom is in perfect health as are the family members who preceded her there. Cuddles has no brain lesions and Caesar’s abscessed tooth is cured. Everyone is content and perfect and only awaiting our arrival to be with them in glory.
Since then we have added other cats to our lives – or I should say Providence has added them. But one more has gone to be with my mother.

Shortly after buying our present home – while we were renovating it – Clarisse showed up. She kept her distance but watched my work intently. My neighbors thought she had been abandoned by the previous owners but we can’t be sure. I would leave her scraps of food from time to time and eventually she repaid us by showing up with two kittens. We dubbed the white one Kimba and the black one Andre as a bit of a joke because he was so tiny – I had Andre the Giant in mind. At about eight weeks old they were very feral but after my wife trapped them in a screened in porch we were able to tame them (with time and snacks). But they continued to be very skittish about any odd or loud noises. One day after a particularly strong thunderstorm Kimba was meowing – more bellowing – and we knew something was wrong. We searched high and low for Andre, eventually finding he had wedged himself in behind a bed – suffocating himself. We were devastated and so was Kimba who walked around crying for his brother. It was terrible. Another cat for my mother. While the thought of my mother surrounded with all her cats was a comfort to me, the thought of sending ours to her was a little less comforting.

About a week went by and Kimba seemed completely inconsolable. I never thought I would see a cat that seemed depressed but Kimba was that cat. We decided to try and find him a new “brother” when we heard of a shelter that was overstocked in the cat department. One cat… good luck with that.

While my wife searched all the likely boy candidates I observed a little girl kitten hiding in the back of her cage with her body pressed down as low as she could against the floor. Was she waiting for just the right person – hiding herself from the little monsters that pull tails and hold cats when they don’t want to be held. I figured no one had given her a second look and asked the attendant if I could see her just to give her a little attention. She clawed and the cage floor as the attendant reached in and then handed her to me. To my surprise – and the attendant’s – she reached for my shoulder, curled herself around my neck – and started to purr. She was the sweetest kitten I believe I had ever seen and she took to me like I was her long lost father. How could I ever put her down? Just then my wife turned to show me the cat she had picked out and was amazed to see this cat clinging for dear life to me. She smiled and said, “I guess we’re going home with two kittens”.

We didn’t know it at the time, but we would end up in a fight for her life.

Too be continued…