One Month

It is one month ago today that I entered my Mom’s bedroom to see her dead body lying on her bed, her sightless eyes starring at the ceiling, her mouth opened as it was when she was having trouble breathing. It is a sight that has haunted me ever since. I can banish the sight when it tries to force itself on my consciousness. What I can’t banish is the pain that seems to get progressively worse instead of better. I’ve learned a lot this last month though. Here are some of the lessons I’ve learned.

I’ve learned that even though my older brother and I will never, ever agree on politics we can be there for each other. He has even been careful not to criticize Obama in front of me. Now that is real progress. I learned long ago that being one of the two real liberals in a family (the other being my niece) of conservatives is not all that easy. My Dad was middle of the road and so is my middle brother. The others are dyed in the wool conservatives and as long as we keep off of politics we can talk to each other some times. Mike has been a tower of strength for me.

I’ve learned that sometimes you have to just pick up the phone and yell and cry and finally you can talk with family and they can understand. I learned that sometimes the old saying that there is a reason the word ass is in assume is true. If we had been given the chance my older brother and I could have explained the Memorial Mass was not something Mom was opposed to. I had talked to her a month before she died and specifically asked her if we could have Masses said in her memory. We knew she didn’t want a big fancy funeral Mass and procession to the cemetery. That wasn’t what was planned or what we did. Sometimes you have to let the others know the pain that was caused by their silence and refusal to even talk to us. I made the call and at least with one brother the healing has started. I emotionally can not do another call right now. I’ll let the one brother pass the message onto the other.

I have learned that people I have not met in person can still be some of the most loving and generous people around. I am very grateful to the people over at Daily Kos and Street Prophets for their help and love through this last month. I appreciate you putting up with all the diaries about Pixie and Merlin.

I especially appreciate just how much comfort two vastly different cats can be. Pixie is full of energy and love. She lets me know that I am now Mommy although the little brat has realized my brother is up and is down begging meat from him. Merlin is back to being his old grouchy, set in his ways, self although come thunderstorms and he is right there expecting Mommy to take care of him. I cherish their love and idiosyncrasies. Now if I can just get the two of them to stop fighting all the time. Boy do I sound like my Mom right at the moment.

I made it through the first month. I realize it will continue to be hard until we can get all the financial things taken care of. We have a house that we have to somehow get cleaned out from my pack-rat mother’s possessions. She was a Depression kid and saved every thing and bought every thing that was on sale. Right now we have enough toilet paper and paper towels to tepee the entire town twice. We have to somehow get everything fixed up and get the house sold and figure out where to live next. My brother wants to stay here. My niece wants me is North Carolina. My friend Colleen wants me to move in with them in California. I just want to be able to figure out how to make the rest of my life happen.

After six years of being a caregiver for Mom at her request I now need to figure out how to live my own life. It isn’t as easy as I thought it would be. It is hard to think about me when you have spent six years of thinking about someone else. Most of all I wish I could stop crying so much. I know that time heals but it is sure taking a long time. I sometimes feel like saying “God give me patience and I want it now!”

Small Things

On Wednesday of last week we laid my Mom to rest burying her ashes on Dad’s grave. It was hard to comprehend that the small urn was all that was left of Mother’s mortal remains. Mom wasn’t that big. When she died she was only 94 pounds. It has been an emotional roller coaster this last week and a half for me. I find myself in frequent tears. I have been reflecting on little things since then.

At 8½ pounds Pixie is probably a normal to medium size cat. Compared to Merlin who is 17½ pounds she is little. What isn’t surprising is that for someone that little she is big when it comes to her need for affection and the love that she returns. Pixie has been all over me since Mom died. She has decided that my brother is good for feeding her the deli meat treats but I am supposed to continue to give her the love and affection that Mom gave her. She always came to greet me when Mom was alive unless of course she was curled up on Mom’s lap. Lap time was sacred. For the first time she has gone back into Mom’s bedroom. I went in for the first time in a couple of weeks to get the jewelry and get it sorted out. Pixie joined me and then came upstairs to “help.” It was healing for both of us to go back into the room where Mom died.

For many people a computer is no big thing. We are so used to working on computers that we take them for granted either that or if you have a garbage system like we have at work you call them every name in the book. When my art/internet computer died my Mom insisted on buying me a new computer. We had our tech at work build a system for me that was geared to my needs. The system itself isn’t large but the speed and computing power makes it a huge machine for me. It was a wonderful gift from my Mom and every time I use it I say a silent thank you to her. For Mom it wasn’t a big deal. She had paid for two computers for my brother and insisted that she could buy me one too. Of course the first major work out for the new machine was the two dozen Easter cards that I made for her. So something that was a little thing for Mom is a big thing for me.

When I first got my Merlin he was four weeks old and fit in the palm of my hand. I didn’t expect him to get this big. Of course in his eyes he is still the tiny little kitten that I first brought home. For something that started out that little he certainly has brought a lot of joy into my life. He has a definite personality and is the biggest Mama’s boy you have ever seen. My little fluff ball is a big bundle of love.

I like taking pictures especially pictures of flowers and nature. For me walking for an hour or so taking pictures is no big thing. I get my exercise and have fun with my digital camera at the same time. For my Mom and my Aunt however the pictures were received with a huge amount of joy. Both of them love flowers and looked forward to seeing the pictures. My Mom would occasionally note that something was coming into bloom and would ask if I could get some pictures for her. It isn’t hard for me to take pictures and tweak them in Photoshop and print them out on my computer. So something that is a little thing for me brought a lot of joy to my Mom. I’m going out this weekend and take pictures of the golden lilies that are now blooming. We plan on going up to see my Aunt Bird soon and I will take the pictures to her. She is my Mom’s only living sibling now and I cherish her and she loves my photographs so I will continue to take pictures for her. I took the cloud picture a couple days after Mom died. It has been a symbol of love and hope for me because I believe at that moment my Mom was trying to tell me that she was okay and happy.

As the saying goes good things come in small packages. It is the little things that I am remembering about my Mom. I am daily reminded of her as I give love to her little Pixie. Pixie and Merlin continue to give me love back. As a Hawaiian friend of mine would say it ain’t no big thing.

Pat

Today marked the final journey for my mother. We got the urn with her ashes and they are being interred next to Dad. Their were just my brother and I along with our priest, Father Steve, and the representative of the funeral home. My brother remarked that today was harder then the Memorial service last Wednesday. I think because we were alone today it did feel a lot harder. I was greeted by Mom’s cat Pixie as I came home. She stays close to me now and I am the designated Mommy. Our hospital chaplain, also named Father Steve, told me after the Memorial service that I needed to do a special picture for my Mom. I finished it last night.

The picture is called “Pat.” It was years before I realized that my Mom’s real name was Mary Jane and not Pat. Everyone I knew called her Pat. It was one of those “huh” moments for a child and of course I had to find out how they get Pat out of Mary Jane. Mom was so proud of being half Irish. When she was a child her friends called her St. Patrick and then shortened it to Pat and Pat she always was.

I had always hoped to take Mom to Ireland. I made sure she had a St. Patrick’s Day card from me and for the last few years an Irish themed picture to go with it. The picture is my interpretation of an Irish farmyard. Mom was always a farm girl at heart. She never was comfortable in big cities and big city traffic. I put the lady in the picture wearing Irish clothes. Even though Mom always felt she was a farm girl I figured in my eyes she was much more then that. The “Irish Princess” dress just seemed to suit her. Mom had red hair when she was younger and with the hazel eyes and freckles she looked Irish. Of course the lady had to have red hair too.

When she was a teenager Mom had a pet chicken named Nancy. Her Mom, who wasn’t the most sympathetic of people, actually let Mom stay home from school for three days after the chicken died because Mom was so upset. So of course I had to put a chicken in the picture. I put the sheep in the picture to represent the Irish woolens. My Dad was definitely a city boy. My Mom was trying to compliment him on his big brown eyes and told him he had eyes like a cow. So of course I had to put a cow in the picture. While Mom never had rabbits I put one in the picture because she always loved the feel of rabbit fur. She would pet my sister-in-law’s pet bunny whenever she went to their house.

Mom always fed the squirrels. Her cat Pixie loved to sit in the dining room window and watch the squirrels. Sometimes she would race from window to window to keep “her” squirrels in sight. One day Mom had baked brownies and had put the oven at too high of a temperature. The brownies really weren’t edible but she figured there was no sense in wasting them so she dumped the 13x9x2 inch pan of brownies outside for the squirrels and birds to eat. A couple of the squirrels tried to pull that entire huge brownie from the front yard to the tree with their nest in it. Mom thought that was one of the funniest sights she had ever seen. She laughed about that for months. I put a cookie in the squirrel paws in honor of the many cookies that Mom put out for them. I still try and put food out for the squirrels and birds in honor of Mom and Dad who both fed the animals. The designated feeding spot is in front of a statue of St. Francis that my parents have in the front yard. Mom was always a dog person.

For several years she was devoted to her dog Ruffles. She mourned the dog all her life, Considering that Ruffles was pure mutt, a little cocker and a little German Shepherd and who knows what else, it was hard to find a model of a dog that looked like her. I settled on the black and tan puppy because it looks a bit like Ruffles if she had had short ears instead of floppy ones. I couldn’t do a Mom picture without putting a dog in there.

The monarch butterfly has a special meaning. My Dad had been out planting a bush when he keeled over and was dead before he hit the ground from a massive heart attack. Mom says she was outside and watching the ambulance people trying to revive Dad and knowing that it was too late. There are few butterflies where we live. Mom says that a Monarch butterfly landed on the bush that Dad had planted and she knew then that Dad was telling her that it was alright. Mom was a fervent believer in Heaven and she felt that Dad was telling her that he had reached his destination there and that she would join him when it was time. She felt a wave of peace rushing over her.

The two cats are of course Pixie and Merlin. Pixie is the little black cat reaching up and trying to play tag with the butterfly. Merlin is the silver tabby walking with the lady. In real life Merlin is that big. He hits me at the knees when he rubs against me and when he stands on his hind paws he can put his front paws around my waist. I put birds in the picture because Mom was always looking out for them and would put food out for them in addition to the food for the squirrels. Mom has always loved rainbows and I put the rainbow in the picture in honor of her. She always loved it when my pictures had rainbows and I frequently used rainbow textures in pictures for her.

Mom always loved roses so of course I had to put roses in the picture. I put a rose in the lady’s hand. My brother told me to pick out the urn for Mom. He trusted that I would pick one that Mom would have loved. I chose one that had 3D roses on it. It is simple and beautiful and very much like my mother.

I finished the picture with a church and a Celtic cross. For my Mom her Catholic faith was a major part of her life. She rarely missed Mass on Sundays. I couldn’t do a picture that represented her without putting a church in it. So this was Pat. She finished her mortal journey today with the burial of the ashes. She is reunited in death with her husband of 55 years. I believe that spiritually she is reunited with him too.

For me the journey is just beginning. We still have financial things to figure out and the rest of Mom’s belongings to go through and sort. I need to figure out where I want to live and more and more it looks like I will join my niece and her family in North Carolina. I originally came here because Mom had asked me to come and help take care of her. She knew that her heart could go at any moment. I took care of her for six years and I wouldn’t have traded it for the world. It has made me aware of the challenges that caregivers face. In honor of my Mom I want to continue to help publicize the real needs and problems that caregivers face. It is a difficult job and there are many things that need to be done to help caregivers provide the best care possible. There are laws on the books that make it difficult for caregivers. I want to fight to make sure that caregivers have the resources necessary to provide quality care. It is my call to activism along with more and better health care. In honor of the little black cat that added three years to my Mom’s life I will also do what I can to make people aware of the needs of animals and to be responsible pet owners. These are the causes that I will honor my Mom Pat with. She always wanted to help others and I can think of no better gift then to do the same.

Double the Pleasure

For many years I always had two cats at a time in my life. It started out when I was convinced to adopt a second cat by a sister-in-law. My cat Zonker was getting older and she thought I should have a second cat in the household. I adopted a kitten I named Sasha. When Zonker passed on I adopted my pure white cat named Casper. After I lost Casper, Merlin came into my life. When Sasha died I decided to go back to having just the one cat, Merlin. He has always been a very clingy mama’s boy. Fate is a funny thing. It doesn’t care what you have decided. Fate decreed that a little black cat was going to allow us to adopt her. Pixie was Mom’s cat and with Mom’s passing Pixie has informed me that I am now back to being Mommy to a two cat household.

After six years of being a caregiver to my mother I am trying to adapt to that part of my life being over. Family and friends are pushing me to start thinking about myself and what I want to do. It is harder to do then I thought it would be. When your life has been wrapped up in caring for someone else it is hard to figure out what you want for yourself. We will be getting Mom’s ashes on Tuesday and burying them on Dad’s grave as she wanted. We still need to go through her clothes and decide what I want to keep and what we are giving to Goodwill. I have a couple of cabinets that I need to clean out. We have her papers to sort and the financial things to finish and then that is it. Mom’s affairs will be done and after six years I start over again.

Now Pixie and Merlin are going to have to figure out how to get along and share me. I am adapting quite well to having two cats demanding attention. I was holding Pixie this morning with one hand and petting Merlin with the other. I need to watch my step because Pixie will zip between your legs and trip you up. She sent me crashing into the doors separating the dining room and kitchen this morning. She loves to try and tackle people.

One thing I have come to realize that I will have to do is chronicle the family stories. There were things that I was telling my niece this weekend about both Mom and Dad that she never knew. Some of them had her laughing and some of them were Wow! moments.

Dad graduated high school at the age of sixteen. He was extremely intelligent and skipped grades. He could not stand his stepmother and took off on his own. During the depression he found work in the government run CCC camps and other odd jobs. He was working on the farm of John Dillinger’s father when the FBI came to inform him that his son was killed. The father didn’t say anything to the people working for him until after the day’s work was done. That was a wow story for my niece. Some of the Dad stories I still need to relate to her are the nitroglycerine and the boxing stories.

As part of a CCC project Dad and another man were driving trucks to a site where the nitroglycerine was needed for clearing rocks for a road being built. The roads they were driving on were unpaved trails really and difficult to maneuver and dangerous at the best of times. Driving a truck full of high explosives was definitely not the best of times. Dad was in the lead truck. Dad heard the explosion when the second truck failed to clear either a hole in the road or some rocks. Dad had reached his destination. He stopped his truck and handed the keys to the foreman and walked away. He would not be driving again.

Dad was not a very big man. He was around 5’8” but he was broadly built especially around the shoulders and chest. While working in the CCC camps friends realized that with his build Dad had the makings of a boxer. In spite of the fact that he had zero experience Dad agreed to learn how to box. He went on the be the welterweight champion among the camps and retained a love of the sport until he died. Dad was so excited when he found out that I had met Bobo Olson who was a friend of one of my bosses at the time. He framed the autographed picture that I had Bobo sign for my Dad. It was one of my Dad’s prized possessions.

My niece found one of my Mom’s scrapbooks with pictures of her as a young girl. It was the captions that cracked her up. Things like: “Mike between 2 and 3. Pick a number. I didn’t get the dates on them. So sue me!” or “Michele about 18 mos. or 2 years. Getting some hair at last. See the dimple? Just one. I don’t know where the other one went.” Or “Mom at the ripe old age of 16 or so. Ye gad, my hair is a mess. Oh well, it hasn’t gotten any better with age, sigh!” Her hair was in old fashioned curls and looked just fine.

Mom was a farm girl. My niece loves to hear the stories of the courtship of her grandparents. When Mom and Dad first met she was working at the soda fountain at the local drug store. She was so nervous she dropped the hot fudge sundae she was holding in my Dad’s lap. She was trying to compliment Dad by telling him she loved the name Jack and that it was the name of the dog she once owned. She loved her dog. She also told Dad that he had beautiful brown eyes just like a cow. Well from a farm girl that was a high compliment. Dad who was not a farm boy didn’t quite know how to take that one.

So now we come to a new phase of life. The stories that Mom and Dad told me will be written down and chronicled. The pictures Mom didn’t get around to putting into books will be put into albums to preserve them after scanning them into the computer of course. Pixie and Merlin will now compete with each other for attention. Pixie will “help” me as she jumps up and walks in front of the monitor and on the keyboard. Merlin will continue to remind me that he is here and needs attention. I will figure out where I want to live and what I am going to do with the rest of my life now that I am no longer a caregiver to Mom. Mom and Dad, who were married for 55 years, will rest together in peace. Life goes on.

The Other Cat

“Please tell me Pixie was with her” As I sat down next to Mom’s only living sibling, my Aunt Bird asked me that. It was so important to her that the cat my mother loved was with her baby sister when she died. I was able to reassure her that Pixie was with her when Mom died and she stayed with her until Mike came home to find her. An animal’s love and loyalty towards their people is something that we humans can learn from.

We had a Memorial Mass for my mother yesterday. It was a simple Mass and the priest wore white. There were no funeral dirges, no gloomy passages, no processions or burial in a cemetery. None of the things Mother did not want. She was always having our priest at St. Paul’s and Father Martial, a Franciscan friend of over 50 years, say Masses for her family and for her. For Mom her faith was one of the most important things in her life. Yesterday with her family and friends we celebrated Mom’s love of God and her love of the Catholic Mass. To be honest I think Mom preferred the Mass when it was in Latin and the songs Gregorian chants but Mom was definitely old fashioned. I had specifically asked Mom if we could have Masses said for her and she said yes. Yesterday was the first of many Masses that we will have said over the years for Mom and we will continue to do Masses fro Dad also. This Mass was a chance for family and friends to celebrate her life, her faith, and to comfort each other.

I have spoken of Pixie but there is another cat in the house that Mom had a relationship with and his name is Merlin. Merlin is my cat. He was rescued from a pound at the age of 4 weeks and I have been his “Mommy” ever since. My Mom loved to talk to Merlin. At 17½ pounds and big enough that he can wrap his front paws around my waist we are speaking about a whole lot of cat to talk to. Merlin is 12 and getting a little on the creaky side. I think he probably has a touch of arthritis. His main joy in life is his naps. He probably sleeps a good twenty hours a day. Merlin would look at my Mom as she talked to him. She would tell him that they were two old senior citizens together. They both creaked up the stairs. They were both shown up by Pixie who loves to zip up and down stairs especially if someone is trying to make their way up or down. Pixie is a show off. Merlin would look at Mom and his expression seemed to say, “Yep. I’m with you on that.” He seemed to know when Mom was telling him what a handsome fellow he was. The computer Mom kept her finances on is in my bedroom. So she would come up and sit there and type and talk to Merlin. It would crack me up when she would tell me about the conversations she and Merlin had together. Even though he is a confirmed mama’s boy Merlin still loved my Mom. He knew from the start that Mom had the makings of a cat person in her. He taught her that she needed to keep his food dish and water dish full. He would “sing” for her. Merlin can be very vocal sometimes. He has a meow that sounds like he is saying “hell no.” Every time he did that Mom would laugh and laugh. One evening I had finished supper and I was standing there talking to Mom and Merlin had been patient long enough and he came downstairs and he stood on his hind legs and put his front paws on my rear end and pushed wanting me to get a move on and go upstairs with him. Mom thought that was the funniest thing in the world. She told her sister and all her friends about it. Merlin cracked her up and he just loved it when she talked to him and he knew she was telling him how handsome he was. He loved Mom.

Merlin realizes Mom is gone. He has been very subdued this week and he lets Pixie on the bed and doesn’t object when I give her affection. In death they have reached a detente they refused achieve in life. Merlin has reluctantly agreed to share his Mommy with Pixie. So Mom left behind two cats who loved her. They are helping each other through.

At the Mass yesterday family and friends talked about Mom. We talked about how much she loved to write letters. We talked about how she loved to read. We talked about her love of animals. I promised her sister that I would keep in touch with her. Mom called her sister at least twice a week. I am going to continue the calls because this is my last chance to get all the rest of the family history and get it written down. I have the memories of Mom’s conversations that I have been writing down but Aunt Bird at 94 has even more stories that I can document a time and way of life I know little about. I can’t take Mom’s place but I can still give her the weekly chats she loves so well and we both have a lot of love for each other.

Our Mayor was at the Mass. She worked with Mom at the hospital. We had nurses that came and coworkers of Mike and I. Our handyman and his son came. The chaplain from the hospital came. Chaplain Steve told me right after Mass that I had to do a beautiful art piece now for my Mom. He loves my art like she did and thinks this would be a good way for me to honor her. I have an idea of what I want to do. My niece and I were batting around ideas last night.

I tried to go to work today but with the extreme bronchitis I’ve come down with my Boss was having nothing to do with it. She told me to go home and be with my family. My coworker said she would give me the PTO time to be off for the next couple of days. So I will rest until Monday and then try again. In the meantime the picture of an old fashioned redheaded woman in Irish green holding a black cat is flashing through my mind. Mom would like a picture like that. I’ll put a black and gray tabby in there too. After all Mom loved both of her grandcats.

That Darn Cat

Just when you think you understand someone they do something so out of character that you realize you didn’t know them quite as well as you thought you did. Some people like to classify others as either cat people or dog people. I have always had cats. I am a definite cat person but I love dogs too. My Mom was a dog person. She grieved after the death of her dog Ruffles for years. Never in a million years would I ever have thought she would go goofy over a cat. This is the story of Mom and her Pixie.

Three years ago my Mom warned me when I came home from work to be careful with the car in the carport because a cat had just given birth to four kittens, three black and one smoky gray. Mom bought cat food. Of course she said it was only because the mother cat needed to be near her babies and shouldn’t have to go out looking for food. She wasn’t adopting them or anything don’t get the wrong idea. She was only helping out a lactating mother cat. Of course I put the validity of that protest right up there with the Easter Bunny and Santa Claus. I wasn’t buying it for a moment.

Mother watched the kittens grow and when they were ready to be weaned she bought kitten food. Of course she was only making sure that the kittens grew up strong with the proper food. She wasn’t attached to them at all. Right. I wasn’t buying that one either. It is hard to maintain that fiction when you check on the kittens several times a day. It is harder to maintain that fiction when after the mother cat takes off you continue buying cat food and taking care of the growing kittens.

My mother’s experience with cats has always been through mine. She and Dad babysat Zonker and Sasha when I went on my honeymoon. She grieved with me when I lost Zonker. She was happy when I got Casper and grieved at his loss. She comforted me when I lost Sasha and welcomed Merlin to the family. When I came to stay with her I only had Merlin and he is the ultimate momma’s boy. I didn’t take her seriously when she asked if I wanted another cat. I love cats and said sure I would take another cat. I was sure this was a rhetorical question since Merlin is getting older and I thought she was talking about in the future after he had gone would I want another cat.

One morning I came down to get my coffee and out of mother’s bedroom prances this little black cat. You could have knocked me over with a feather. I looked at the cat rubbing up against me and asked if mother knew she was in the house? I leave for work, shaking my head, and wondering what in the world was going on. When I come home the cat is still in the house. Okay out with it Mom what is the cat doing here? Her first reply was that I said I wanted another cat. This one was the brave one of the four and kept coming into the house. She would let it stay and explore. It was so cute. She fed it and it just didn’t want to stay outside. Sigh. You let the cat inside and feed it and it doesn’t want to go back out? Mom definitely had a lot to learn about cats.

So much to Merlin’s dismay Pixie joined the household. Mother wasn’t going to get fond of her however. Easter Bunny time. Knowing that she was going to be an indoor only cat we were responsible pet owners and took her to the Vet to have her checked over and spade. Mother who wasn’t fond of her remember worried all night about Pixie. She missed her. She was worried that Pixie would think we abandoned her. She worried something would go wrong with the operation. She couldn’t wait for me to get home from work so we could go and get her. Pixie was held and cuddled and fussed over after she got home. But remember mother wasn’t fond of her.

One Saturday afternoon little Miss Adventurous dashed out the door. Mom was frantic. She and Mike searched for her while I stayed in the house in case she came back and wanted in. Mom was sure she was lost forever. My brother came upstairs carrying a cat and asking if this was the one. Looking at those big gold eyes and looking at the little notch in her ear I knew it was Pixie. And so the battle began of Pixie wanting to go out and explore and Mom determined she was staying inside.

Mom worked the three to eleven shift at the hospital at the beginning of Pixie’s reign. I use to listen for her to come in before I fell asleep at night. Mothers want to make sure their children are in safe and daughters worry about their mothers. One night Mom came up in an absolute panic. Pixie had gotten out and she wouldn’t be able to find her way back and wild animals would get her and she would be scared etcetera. Putting shoes and a coat on I went downstairs and we went out onto the carport. She had gone out of that door. Mom was so upset that she would never see the cat she wasn’t going to be fond of again. I finally had to gently tell her to hush a moment and give me the flashlight. Listening for the tinkling of the bell on her collar I realized the little minx was in the bushes. Shining the light on her I reached in and pulled her out and gave her to Mom who was practically in tears. I went back to bed to the sounds of my Mom scolding the cat for running out and scaring her grandmother to death. I mentally started taking bets with myself as to when Mom would finally break down and admit she loved the cat.

This old house has a basement and right by the stairs there is a ledge. Pixie discovered that running next to the ledge is a crawl space where she could run around, holler and hear her echo and generally get filthy. Pixie runs into the crawl space and Mom goes into a panic. I reassure her that the cat can not get stuck. She got in she can get out. She can’t fall through the ceiling. She can’t get lost. When she is darn good and ready she will come out. Pixie proceeds to play this little game of hide and seek whenever she can manage to zip by the humans and get into her crawl space. She played the game today. One afternoon with Mom practically in tears she begged me to try and get Pixie to come out. She had tried bribing her with food to no avail. I went down a second time, after ascertaining the first time that she was all right. Mom claimed the cat was crying and didn’t know how to find her way out. I knew she was listening to herself as her voice echoed. Something in my tone of voice told Pixie she better get her furry butt out of there right now. Bath time. Mom scolding the cat time.

It took about a year for my stubborn Mom to finally admit that she loved the cat. Everyone else knew it all the time. Let’s face it when every conversation started with her telling you the cute thing Pixie did, how smart she was and on and on you kind of get the idea that Mom was a tiny bit fond of her cat. Mom even retired from work because her daughter had no qualms about using the line that “Pixie needs you at home and would like you to retire and spend more time with her.” Yeah I know shameless. All I can say in my defense is that it worked.

And so it came to pass that a little black cat with big gold eyes and a white spot on her throat reaped the rewards of being the brave one of the litter. She was fed deli beef and turkey on demand. She was allowed on the kitchen cabinet, on one side only of course like she didn’t go on the other side when Mom wasn’t looking. She would hop onto Mom’s lap for her daily nap and Mom would stay in the chair and hold her because she was so comfortable she couldn’t bear to get her up. It has been three years since that day when Mom warned me to be careful that we had kittens in our garden shed. Pixie, little rascal that she is, added years to the life of a woman with an extremely bad heart. I am convinced that Mom held onto life so tenaciously these last three years because she loved her cat and Pixie loved her. As the Andrew Lord Weber song says, “Love Changes Everything.”