Sunday, January 31, 2016

Seeing Love and Feeling Comforted By A Very Old Cat



We are looking forward to celebrating Chango's eleventy-first birthday, April first. He was born sometime in early spring, in the year 2000. He had a brother, Bongo. Now he has us, and Mister Foo, and his choice of the comfiest places for napping. In the last six months he has become an old man. A dear, and darling, talkative, sometimes cantankerous sounding old man.

I've said all of this already. I am sure. It's even likely I have addressed the point that I have said all of this already, before. But for emphasis, because he is so endearing and adored, I will write it all down, again. How else to preserve these memories, to store up the happy and warm feelings he fosters in our hearts? I want to remember, viscerally, if possible, how keenly we enjoy who Chango is, how he behaves, our dotage and affection for this feline soul, this sleek being.

He sleeps all day, unless he is asking to go out the back door, so he can walk to the front door. He waits at the front door to be let in. He asks for a bowl of fresh food. He asks to be picked up and set at the slowly running tap of the bathroom sink. He asks to be followed, so that he can show us what he needs, what he wishes, where he's thinking of going. At night he is restless, waiting for everyone to get to their beds, for the lights to turn out, for the quiet time. He takes his spot on the second pillow above my head. I call him my crown. He rests a paw on my head, sweeps his tail across my shoulder. When I stir, he asks, "Meow?" Have I already said? I think he could learn to speak English, if he could live another decade. He's quite close, and we imagine we can make out some of his more emphatic statements.

{Grandmother, I'd bring Chango to you, if I could. Let's not consider any of the impractical details of this notion. It's just that I am certain that you and he would very much enjoy each others gentle company. And you remember him, homely little fellow, when we all lived together, and the boys wondered why anyone would even want a cat. All we had then was Nena... pretty kitty, but such a moody thing. We brought Chango and Bongo home, and the boys fell fast in love with the kitties. Do you remember the kitties up in the tree, and William, Alex, and Max standing below them, with pillows held high, in case the kitties fell, and calling them, imploring them to 'please come down?' We lived by the beach, then. And all I can remember are happy times, there. Nena napping on your porch fence, and your potted garden out there, too. Then our time together in our Rancho home; I think of it often. I miss the simplest pleasures of our days together. It may sound a bit odd, but when I see Chango resting, curled up in his nap, I think of you and wish we were with you... just doing whatever feels comfortable, being content to sleep, or chat, or do nothing at all. When I miss you, I turn to everything good in my day, in my life, and I think how happy I am for every day I have been in your company... that something essential about you has made me want to be a good person. Then I long, even more, to be by your side again, to bring little comforts and amusements to you. To brush your hair, and rub your shoulders, to bring you tea, tissues, funny things to laugh about, to hold your hand. I love you, Grandmother.}

3 comments:

  1. This post (among so many) deserves a "Love" button!

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  2. Beautiful and wonderful, and everything <3

    ReplyDelete

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