Thomas, Jenny, Buttercup, Ember, and TC: (Stories)

1.

All our cats but one found us. Misty walked up the middle of our road yowling when I was a girl and he was about 6 mos. old. He was with us for eight years, despite a near-death experience with a poisoned rat. My mom brought Merlin home from a wedding, where she took him away from two boys playing ball with him--tossing him back and forth. We had him for nine or ten years, fairly surprising considering he was an unaltered male. We lost him to an abscess from a catfight. Jenny levitated onto our kitchen windowsill, pregnant and hungry; Buttercup and Ember were born to us. When we lost Ember to a car, I missed her so much the tortie in the pet store window reminded me of her, so I brought her home. By then Thomas had moved in on us from his benignly neglectful owners, our neighbors. The girls hadn't taken too well to the newcomer, but there was an armed truce--which did not include Cricket. Luckily Thomas, 18 lbs of long-haired grey tabby, fell immediately in love with the tiny tortie kitten, and adopted her as his own. So there was a balance of power, at least for awhile.

2.

They do all react so differently. We don't know about Jenny's life before she came to us around 8 mos. of age, but we suspect it wasn't pleasant, and it stunted her personality. She hardly ever did anything to be scolded for, and would slink and hide when we had to scold. Her daughters were born in our household and never knew hardship. Buttercup was bold and blithe and thoughtless, and was scolded often. She would smile smugly and blink at you, obviously ignoring the point of the scolding but accepting the attention as her due. Ember was selectively deaf. She simply hadn't time to listen to silly drivel, there were bugs to hunt and let me out now!

3.

We lost Cricket and Buttercup to cars, and Thomas simply disappeared one holiday weekend. We searched the roadsides and ditches, the woods and fields, and put up signs, but we never saw him again. Jenny was an only cat for 10 years, and she came into her own with no competition. Her personality bloomed, and we never had the heart to threaten her security by bringing another cat into the house.

Now TC has rather dramatically appeared, and we have to believe that the cats that find us are the spirits meant to share our lives.

4.

Quick story: Thomas was our 15-pounder, 18 in the winter. He was the only one of our four, at that time, who could make the leap from floor to the kitchen window above the counter. I watched him, a one-paw pushoff on the way up, a one-paw touchdown on the way down. All cats knew counters were forbidden. Until one day I walked in and surprised Thomas on the counter. I know he'd been distracted on the way down and forgotten (or ignored) The Rule. Oh, the look he gave me. Awareness of transgression, apology, embarrassment. I said nothing, he leapt down and made himself scarce, and as far as I know, never transgressed again, although after an absence of a day or two he continued to occupy the window. Thomas was a gentleman. He chased dogs out of the yard, protecting that ungrateful hoyden Buttercup. TC looks like Thomas, only a third his size.

5.

Buttercup caught an oriole once, saw me on the porch and came running with it screeching and cursing in her mouth. I didn't think, I just reached down and picked her up by the top jaw, reaching with my other hand for her lower jaw. Before I connected, her mouth opened in surprise and the bird flew out and off in a straight line, apparently unhurt, as s/he was hollering profanity as s/he flew.

Silly yellow cat blinked her green eyes at me, licked her jaws and started to wash. She rarely ate a catch, and mice bored her. She liked to catch birds, but only for the fun.

6.

LDV, we've lost so many. It always hurts, and it never really stops. But the stories about our beloveds are always there.

Friend of DDS’s was at the house and we got to talking about pets. One thing led to another and DS and I were soon telling Buttercup and Thomas stories, each embellishing, providing hazy details, and we were all giggling at how wonderful these beasties had been. How long ago, asked the friend, did you have these cats?

It took a minute before DS and I realized that Thomas had been gone 10 years and Buttercup 8. DS was a small boy when they were with us. The stories brought them back, as though we'd only stroked their fur and felt them purr the day before, but without the sharp pain and loss. It gets better. It does.