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I tend to keep my distance when it comes to people. I do love them, in certain places, certain spaces, but my household is not necessarily one of them. I'm European in my ways; they are American. There's a difference in everything, from the way the towels are folded to my demands that the animals have frsh, clean water every day. So my best companions have been my cats.
Fifteen years ago, Miss Midnight arrived at my door and after asking permission, went in. She bade farewell and returned, after dark with something in her mouth. I said to my companions "I hope she's not bringing me a mouse." No, it wasn't. She dropped the cutest little pointed kitten at my feet; spoke one word, and disapeared. Shortly she returned, bringing me another one. She picked each one up and put them at the farthest part of my abide, behind my water bed. Out of reach and sight of all but her and me. But they didn't get to stay. Suddenly, all the neighbors claimed her and them. Someone found homes for these precious little ones and once again, Midnight was on her own. She would show up at my door at Midnight punctually and very vociferously echoed through the hallways that she had arrived.
She was gone for a couple of days and I asked around; no one had seen her. On the fourth day, she came to my door again and I let her in. She did not do her usual things, but went to the bathroom and curled up under the sink. OK, I said, it's OK. If that's where you want to be....I let it go til morning. She hadn't moved. I squatted down to pet her, seeif she was alright. She looked at me and caused me to jump back and hit the wall. It looked like there were three cats in one head. I must have shrieked. Oh my God! I told her I had to get her to the vet. I called and took her to the one who would see her immediately. He came in outside of hours. I was grateful as could be. Something had caused a major abcess over her right eye, so grossly swollen her eye could not shut. He told me she would have gone blind in that eye if she had survived at all. I said, "Sh's not exactly really my cat." He replied "She is yours now." So it was a number of weeks of oral antibiotics, cleaning and dressing the abcess, and ointment in her eye 5 times a day. She healed, but lost some tissue around her eye, so it never again closed right. It has some clouding in the vision but she is good at allowing me to put the ointment across her eye if I dispense it from my finger. She has no fear of me usually.
She rewarded me a few weeks later when the expected batch of her offspring arrived. I'd cleared out the floor of my closet so she could feel safe. I woke up and looked for her; she was in the closet and beside her were twopairs of little white rolled up socks and two pairs of black ones. Surprising, since she's black with a little white bikini and bib only. I was able to keep two of them. One looked like a little fuzzy caterpillar, the other had normal fur. One had lilac points, the other chocolate. They were the joy of my days for 12 years.
One crazy week and all the love of them was gone, only hours apart. My Dusty cat had in the course of one week lost 10 pounds in weight, half easily of normal. He had kidney cancer, which had wrapped around a major blood vessel, he would not recover. I let the vet give him peace, but it began immediately to destroy me. Four hours later, the same Hospital, other veterinarian, called to say my Pretty cat had succumed to some kind of infection he contracted when I was not quick enough to keep him from going out onto the unclean balcony.
I know I screamed. I know I was sobbbing out loud, trying to muffle my cries with my pillow. My heart was torn out and I thought for sure my soul would leave me; why couldn't I at least pass out and escape a pain so great I don't know how I survived. I had devoted my life to making sure they had what they needed. Not so easy, considering Pretty had diabetes with occassional seizures and emergencies. Dusty primarily needed at least an hour daily grooming and four hours on the weekend because of his long hair. The, as was their mother, my "Velcro kitty", were always with me, always waiting for me. And now, only emptiness. Not that often I have not reached down to pet their forms or to lift one up. I would see their image and reach for them only to realize they were gone. I would drive toward home happy that I would see them there and then realize it would be emptiness. My Midnight cat went through the same hell. She had the help of some Valium.
There cames some months where I could not get my feet on the ground well enough to leave the house. My friend brough my food and helped with the paperwork. The only things I could deal with were my Dad's recurring life & death emergencies. And then I would go into that cloud of dizziness again. My Midnight cat would sit at the bottom of the stairs and cry for me til I came home and sit beside me the rest of the time.
Eventually, we added Kawasaki. I don't know where he/she came from; either fell out of someone else's window or escaped the fire which had demolished and entire section of the apartments. But every time she heard my voice, I'd see her running across "the marsh", and sit below the downstairs window crying it's little head off. I began giving food, and asking around the neighborhood. One night, despite food and water, it just kept crying-not repeatedly, but just a long, long, long wail of despair. I invited it in. Exactly the remedy. How she knew where the food and litter box were, I have no idea, but that was directly where she went. Midnight wanted to be friends, even share her food, but I was afraid there might be disease, so kept them a bit seperate, which I regret. I hadn't planned on keeping her, but since the shelter didn't come pick up cats and I hadn't planned on keeping her, I put ads all over the internet. No takers. So I kept her. She is very sweet and also extremely protective, never more than three feet away from Midnight or me.
Up til then, from the time of my birth, there was nothing that could interfere with me and my need to sing. I was not living if there was not music in my life. It kept me from dropping out of school, it took me through the deaths of loved ones, took me through multiple relationship endings, made me forget how sick I really am. A friend once described it. "You are sitting here drooping, like you're nearly dead; you get up on the stage and sing and you're alive again, and then you stop and I feel like I'm going to have to carry you to your car and home." This time, the carry me to the car and home part was all that was left. Since the baby cats died, I'd sung only twice-once, sara McLaoughlin's "Angel" and Patty Smythe "Sometimes Love Just Ain't Enough" and I disappeared into my abode and rendering medical care for my Dad.
The other day I was beginning to transition back to me again. I have not recovered from the loss; despite the addition of Kawasaki, neither had my Midnight cat. I decided if I was ever going to sing again, it was at the "use it or lose it" point. So, due to the stupid way this place is wired, I sat on the floor in my dining room where my audio things are and did a couple of sides of CD's; German and English. My voice tired quickly. It cracked and creaked and struggled and failed. But my Midnight came and listened to me. Then I remembered. There had never been a day when I didn't sing to my cats, never a time when I left that I didn't leave music on for them. They loved it. Sometimes my Dusty cat would just jump into my arms on some songs. So my voice exhausted from the try, I returned to tv and shortly to bed.
I'd been asleep for about three hours when I heard my Midnight cat emit a series of continuing cat sounds. For a little cat, she's a Bombay, they are extraordianrily loud and I was certain she was in distress. I jumped out of bed and raced down the hall to the living room. I didn't see her there. I heard her though. I thought she was stuck some place, so turned on the dining room lights. There she was, between the two speakers where I had been earlier in the evening, giving me a look most quizzical and inncocent. My Midnight cat had decided to sing.
Pegi
I tend to keep my distance when it comes to people. I do love them, in certain places, certain spaces, but my household is not necessarily one of them. I'm European in my ways; they are American. There's a difference in everything, from the way the towels are folded to my demands that the animals have frsh, clean water every day. So my best companions have been my cats.
Fifteen years ago, Miss Midnight arrived at my door and after asking permission, went in. She bade farewell and returned, after dark with something in her mouth. I said to my companions "I hope she's not bringing me a mouse." No, it wasn't. She dropped the cutest little pointed kitten at my feet; spoke one word, and disapeared. Shortly she returned, bringing me another one. She picked each one up and put them at the farthest part of my abide, behind my water bed. Out of reach and sight of all but her and me. But they didn't get to stay. Suddenly, all the neighbors claimed her and them. Someone found homes for these precious little ones and once again, Midnight was on her own. She would show up at my door at Midnight punctually and very vociferously echoed through the hallways that she had arrived.
She was gone for a couple of days and I asked around; no one had seen her. On the fourth day, she came to my door again and I let her in. She did not do her usual things, but went to the bathroom and curled up under the sink. OK, I said, it's OK. If that's where you want to be....I let it go til morning. She hadn't moved. I squatted down to pet her, seeif she was alright. She looked at me and caused me to jump back and hit the wall. It looked like there were three cats in one head. I must have shrieked. Oh my God! I told her I had to get her to the vet. I called and took her to the one who would see her immediately. He came in outside of hours. I was grateful as could be. Something had caused a major abcess over her right eye, so grossly swollen her eye could not shut. He told me she would have gone blind in that eye if she had survived at all. I said, "Sh's not exactly really my cat." He replied "She is yours now." So it was a number of weeks of oral antibiotics, cleaning and dressing the abcess, and ointment in her eye 5 times a day. She healed, but lost some tissue around her eye, so it never again closed right. It has some clouding in the vision but she is good at allowing me to put the ointment across her eye if I dispense it from my finger. She has no fear of me usually.
She rewarded me a few weeks later when the expected batch of her offspring arrived. I'd cleared out the floor of my closet so she could feel safe. I woke up and looked for her; she was in the closet and beside her were twopairs of little white rolled up socks and two pairs of black ones. Surprising, since she's black with a little white bikini and bib only. I was able to keep two of them. One looked like a little fuzzy caterpillar, the other had normal fur. One had lilac points, the other chocolate. They were the joy of my days for 12 years.
One crazy week and all the love of them was gone, only hours apart. My Dusty cat had in the course of one week lost 10 pounds in weight, half easily of normal. He had kidney cancer, which had wrapped around a major blood vessel, he would not recover. I let the vet give him peace, but it began immediately to destroy me. Four hours later, the same Hospital, other veterinarian, called to say my Pretty cat had succumed to some kind of infection he contracted when I was not quick enough to keep him from going out onto the unclean balcony.
I know I screamed. I know I was sobbbing out loud, trying to muffle my cries with my pillow. My heart was torn out and I thought for sure my soul would leave me; why couldn't I at least pass out and escape a pain so great I don't know how I survived. I had devoted my life to making sure they had what they needed. Not so easy, considering Pretty had diabetes with occassional seizures and emergencies. Dusty primarily needed at least an hour daily grooming and four hours on the weekend because of his long hair. The, as was their mother, my "Velcro kitty", were always with me, always waiting for me. And now, only emptiness. Not that often I have not reached down to pet their forms or to lift one up. I would see their image and reach for them only to realize they were gone. I would drive toward home happy that I would see them there and then realize it would be emptiness. My Midnight cat went through the same hell. She had the help of some Valium.
There cames some months where I could not get my feet on the ground well enough to leave the house. My friend brough my food and helped with the paperwork. The only things I could deal with were my Dad's recurring life & death emergencies. And then I would go into that cloud of dizziness again. My Midnight cat would sit at the bottom of the stairs and cry for me til I came home and sit beside me the rest of the time.
Eventually, we added Kawasaki. I don't know where he/she came from; either fell out of someone else's window or escaped the fire which had demolished and entire section of the apartments. But every time she heard my voice, I'd see her running across "the marsh", and sit below the downstairs window crying it's little head off. I began giving food, and asking around the neighborhood. One night, despite food and water, it just kept crying-not repeatedly, but just a long, long, long wail of despair. I invited it in. Exactly the remedy. How she knew where the food and litter box were, I have no idea, but that was directly where she went. Midnight wanted to be friends, even share her food, but I was afraid there might be disease, so kept them a bit seperate, which I regret. I hadn't planned on keeping her, but since the shelter didn't come pick up cats and I hadn't planned on keeping her, I put ads all over the internet. No takers. So I kept her. She is very sweet and also extremely protective, never more than three feet away from Midnight or me.
Up til then, from the time of my birth, there was nothing that could interfere with me and my need to sing. I was not living if there was not music in my life. It kept me from dropping out of school, it took me through the deaths of loved ones, took me through multiple relationship endings, made me forget how sick I really am. A friend once described it. "You are sitting here drooping, like you're nearly dead; you get up on the stage and sing and you're alive again, and then you stop and I feel like I'm going to have to carry you to your car and home." This time, the carry me to the car and home part was all that was left. Since the baby cats died, I'd sung only twice-once, sara McLaoughlin's "Angel" and Patty Smythe "Sometimes Love Just Ain't Enough" and I disappeared into my abode and rendering medical care for my Dad.
The other day I was beginning to transition back to me again. I have not recovered from the loss; despite the addition of Kawasaki, neither had my Midnight cat. I decided if I was ever going to sing again, it was at the "use it or lose it" point. So, due to the stupid way this place is wired, I sat on the floor in my dining room where my audio things are and did a couple of sides of CD's; German and English. My voice tired quickly. It cracked and creaked and struggled and failed. But my Midnight came and listened to me. Then I remembered. There had never been a day when I didn't sing to my cats, never a time when I left that I didn't leave music on for them. They loved it. Sometimes my Dusty cat would just jump into my arms on some songs. So my voice exhausted from the try, I returned to tv and shortly to bed.
I'd been asleep for about three hours when I heard my Midnight cat emit a series of continuing cat sounds. For a little cat, she's a Bombay, they are extraordianrily loud and I was certain she was in distress. I jumped out of bed and raced down the hall to the living room. I didn't see her there. I heard her though. I thought she was stuck some place, so turned on the dining room lights. There she was, between the two speakers where I had been earlier in the evening, giving me a look most quizzical and inncocent. My Midnight cat had decided to sing.
Pegi
