Ever the erudite cat--you even kept a blog for a while--you were named for two old dead white men: Erasmus and Galileo: Desiderius Erasmus of Rotterdam (1466-1536), who is said to have been the last person to know everything there was to know [in Europe], and Galileo Galilei (1564-1642), who supposedly conducted gravitational experiments by dropping objects off the Leaning Tower of Pisa. Only your experiments involved drinking glasses and the edges of counters and tables. I only recently learned that "Erasmus" means "beloved" in Latin. It is a fitting name, for you were--are--dearly loved.
Raz
Raz-ma-tazz
Fur-Face
Our furry child
Walnut-Brain
Die Katze
The Inspector
Lil Buddy
Pretty Kitty
Kitty Cat
Tiger
Now that you are not here anymore, I feel like I will have to change the way I do...everything now. No one greets me (or trips me) at the bedroom door when I get up in the morning. I can leave the bathroom door open, because you're not there to whine for a drink from the tap. I don't have to change your water before getting down on the floor to brush you while listening to the morning news on the radio. I can't tell you to "be good while I'm gone" or "watch the house for us" when we leave, and I won't have to step over where you have flopped on the floor for a belly rub when we return. I can leave a glass of water on the floor by my chair and not worry you'll stick your face in it or knock it over. Heck, we can even leave cups and mugs by the edge of the counter, and they will be right where we left them. I can sit on any chair in the house I want, because you are not laying claim to any of them anymore. I can actually work with my laptop on my lap, because you're not trying to sit there. When it's hot out, I can wear shorts without a second thought about how you can't stand to sit on bare human skin. When it's cold out, I can round the corner into the hall without worrying about tripping over you, curled up against the wall next to the furnace. It was clever of you to find the warmest spot in the house! I can have flowers on the table instead of up on a shelf, out of your reach. I can bring my spider plants inside over the winter without having to lock you out of the study, lest you nibble on the "salad bar" and promptly throw up. (It's raining while I type this, and I have to stop myself from wondering whether the ambient noise includes you smacking your lips...or retching. The heavens cried when your great-grandmother died, too.) I can close the blinds on the front windows in the evening without having to leave one up for you to watch "cat tv." Heck, I don't have to shut the bedroom door at night, because you will not be serenading me at 4 am. Anymore. No more litter box, no more orange spit-up staining the carpet, no more cat hair covering the couch. Anymore. No more warm heft in my lap or chirp when you wake up from an afternoon nap or soft fur under my fingers. Anymore. You were beautiful in life and still beautiful in death. I am sorry your body gave out before your spirit did. You are beloved, you magnificent creature.
~Signed, "Mom"
Pretty Kitty
Kitty Cat
Tiger
I was a complete sucker for the "paw over the eyes" position.
Daddy took this one. He thought you were so funny trying to chew up the Christmas tree.
Hold still for a family portrait--oop!
So much for a photo Christmas card.
So much for a photo Christmas card.
I think we are studying French for Reading here. Yeah, that's it.
The older/dirtier the water in your dish, the farther out into the walkway
it would move, until I couldn't help but trip over it (literally).
it would move, until I couldn't help but trip over it (literally).
With the way you nested in clothes, the paper recycling, or Daddy's coat thrown on the couch,
I sometimes wondered whether you were part bird. (Don't take that the wrong way.)
I sometimes wondered whether you were part bird. (Don't take that the wrong way.)
Tabby Cat as Conch Shell. That paw, though!
A squirrel was feasting on the innards of my jack-o-lantern.
Little did it know that a great predator was watching from above...
Typical Sunday afternoon at our place: I'm working, the boys are napping.
Now that you are not here anymore, I feel like I will have to change the way I do...everything now. No one greets me (or trips me) at the bedroom door when I get up in the morning. I can leave the bathroom door open, because you're not there to whine for a drink from the tap. I don't have to change your water before getting down on the floor to brush you while listening to the morning news on the radio. I can't tell you to "be good while I'm gone" or "watch the house for us" when we leave, and I won't have to step over where you have flopped on the floor for a belly rub when we return. I can leave a glass of water on the floor by my chair and not worry you'll stick your face in it or knock it over. Heck, we can even leave cups and mugs by the edge of the counter, and they will be right where we left them. I can sit on any chair in the house I want, because you are not laying claim to any of them anymore. I can actually work with my laptop on my lap, because you're not trying to sit there. When it's hot out, I can wear shorts without a second thought about how you can't stand to sit on bare human skin. When it's cold out, I can round the corner into the hall without worrying about tripping over you, curled up against the wall next to the furnace. It was clever of you to find the warmest spot in the house! I can have flowers on the table instead of up on a shelf, out of your reach. I can bring my spider plants inside over the winter without having to lock you out of the study, lest you nibble on the "salad bar" and promptly throw up. (It's raining while I type this, and I have to stop myself from wondering whether the ambient noise includes you smacking your lips...or retching. The heavens cried when your great-grandmother died, too.) I can close the blinds on the front windows in the evening without having to leave one up for you to watch "cat tv." Heck, I don't have to shut the bedroom door at night, because you will not be serenading me at 4 am. Anymore. No more litter box, no more orange spit-up staining the carpet, no more cat hair covering the couch. Anymore. No more warm heft in my lap or chirp when you wake up from an afternoon nap or soft fur under my fingers. Anymore. You were beautiful in life and still beautiful in death. I am sorry your body gave out before your spirit did. You are beloved, you magnificent creature.
~Signed, "Mom"
No comments:
Post a Comment
Your comments let me know that I am not just releasing these thoughts into the Ether...