And now my last living reminder of my Texas home is gone too with Gracie departing this world Saturday. I haven't been without at least one cat since 1991, when Sydney and Maalea entered my life.
Yesterday I started packing up Grace's stuff - some goes to the landfill, most goes to the storage unit for the next lucky kitten to enter my life. Gone are the litterboxes. Gone is the saline solution I used to have to give Grace to stave off her kidney disease. Saved are the steps to the bed, the cat cave that Grace never once used, and the play toy that she used a couple of times.
'Cuz you know there will be at least one new cat. But not for a few months yet, since I will be living temporarily with family until my house is done.
Bedtime is the hardest, followed by early morning. Grace would sleep usually next to my ear, where I could roll over and bury my face in her soft fur. Sometimes she'd reach out for me with one paw, bringing my hand to her. And in the mornings she'd be so happy to see me that no matter how well I slept the night before or what faced me during the day, I'd have to smile.
This morning I smiled too. I smiled because I remembered something special about each of the Texas cats that spent time with me. Sydney the original, who mellowed from a hyper kitty to a sage old man (he lived to be almost 20). Maalea, my sweet affectionate girl, the twin to Sydney, who died just before Grace moved in. I sometimes think that Maalea's spirit lived in Grace; I called her Gracie Maalea for that reason.
Blue Bell Cappuccino Chocolate Chunk (shortened to Blue); the baby born in my arms while I was sleeping with Grace. His favorite sport was licking my beer bottle every time I took a sip (and for you germaphobes out there - I was fine).
Scottie Sunshine, my long haired tuxedo cat, also born to Grace, who would be the first to greet me at the door with his tail held high. When I had a cat tree in the bedroom, he'd use it dive bomb me in the middle of the night.
Little Mouse, my gray cat, who never got above 4 pounds soaking wet, and lived most of her life under the bed. If mental illness exists for cats, she had it.
Sammy, probably my most affectionate cat, was a tabby born with one eye stuck shut with some sort of infection. I spent the rest of his life wiping the corner of that eye out. Sam and Grace spent a few years as my onlys, and so made the trek to Minnesota in the summer with me. After I fed them in the morning, they would both crawl in my lap while I worked at my desk, purring contentately. Sam would crawl into the space between my chest and arm at night, hugging me at the same time I was hugging him.
And of course Gracie, who I still hear sometimes during the day, chirping peacefully at my side, I feel the spirits of all my friends gathered around me when I think of them. And if they choose to, I believe that they can come back to me. Just like Maalea did with Grace.
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| Sydney |
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| Blue |
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| Grace and Sydney |
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| The elusive Mouse |
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| Sam |
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| Scottie Sunshine |
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| My sweet Maalea |
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