My Wonderful Life With Cats Cats. I have cohabitated with them for seventeen years. Two cats I had for fourteen years. Two and a half years ago I lost them both five months apart. They danced across the rainbow bridge older and wiser and firmly established in my heart. Putting Pearl to sleep two days after Christmas 2018 was not something I had planned to do. I still remember the day I got her. She came to me when she herd me opening a can of tuna for my own lunch. I wasn't meaning to feed her. I was new to the habbits and thoughts of cats but I was willing to learn. A friend of mine had just introduced two cats to their household and I decided I wanted cats. Why not? But I had to have two cats because I didn't spend much time at home. I didnt' want them to be alone. So we embarked upon the adventure. You can read about Pearl in my stories called Kitty Kisses. Prince hasn't gotten a name for his stories yet but he will. Pearl grew into a fine cat who loved to eat. The woman who gave her to me was looking for a permanent home for Pearl. She told me that I was the one she trusted. She was the apartment manager and I hardly ever saw her but somehow she knew I would take care of that cat. I took care of that cat and her adopted sister. It was a sad December 27 2018 when I had to make the very sudden decision to put Pearl to sleep. We had spent the day after Christmas in a stupor on the couch probably watching movies or sleeping. I noticed she had been unwilling to eat but I didn't think much of it. It occurred to me later after we took her to the vet and discovered she had neumoniah that she had been lethargic. One day just before Christms she had tried to jump onto the counter and didn't quite make it. I thought that was unusual because she always jumped on the counter. I let my cats climb counters. My counters are clutter-free and I run a clean ship but allow freedom. Pearl was seventeen years old and as I held her that day at the vet's office I reflected that she had a good life. She slept on my bed, with her sister, on all my chairs, on the flor. she knew where the cold and hot places were. She traveled to Texas from California with me. That is a story in itself. I was separated from the girls for six months in 2014 and when we were united to take our flight to Texas they remembered me and I was more than happy to see them. Two years later here we were. Perl, named by her previous humans for her coloring (she was a tux) was the first to lead the way across the rainbow bridge. Two months later I would discover that Brandy had cancer in her mouth. Even before I had to make the decision to put Brandy to sleep I was told of four more kittens that needed homes. Ok, I said in April of 2018 I'll take two of the kittens. They were born in March of 2018. Since they didn't have official papers I decided to give them both a birthday of March 3. March 3 was the day I lost a very important friend: my railroad engineer who was teaching me the ropes. You can read all about those adventures in "She Likes Trains." So since these essentially were firile cats that would now have a home and were born in a flower pot or something like that and we knew their birth occurred in March I decided March 3 would be a good day to establish a gain. However, there was one condition. I wouldn't take the kittens till I had experienced the loss of Brandy. It was inevitable that I would lose her. It makes me sad even to write about it. I must be turning into an old sentimental lady that the media wants to turn into a puddle of tears because they're always looking for some heart-string-pulling story. Ok, enough of that digression. Maybe I've always been like that? Maybe since moving to north Texs I have more time to feel things? Whatever the case, some days I still miss Brandy's squirrel tail and I miss Pearl sitting with me and eating cream cheese. She loved cream cheese. Brandy wasn't into such things. Toward the end, Brandy loved her bed: a bed that we inherited from the lady who can be credited with helping me get started in this town. After a long separation we were united somehow on Facebook and when it was discovered that I was going to leave my job she encouraged me to move here. She told me several days after ai arrived over lunch at Whataburger that she sometimes regretted not being there for my mother's death some twenty years ago now. So if she can miss my mom then I suppose it's perfectly okay to miss my cats on some days. On May 26, 2018 the inevitable finally happened. Brandy woke up that morning and just couldn't eat. The cancer in her mouth was finally taking its final toll and so I set up the appointment. Brandy fell asleep on my shoulder in the vet's office and then it was all over. I think I went to McDonald's after. Eating is a good good thing. At least she got a good burial. She was such a swweet cat. I want some time alone, I said to myself. Three weeks later I had my first Texas cats: two frolicking rambunctious kittens. They were three months old and scared. When the lady let them out of the carrier they both ran and hid behind doors. We talked for a while and then when she left I went to find them. They were two little tabby cats, small and curious, except not that day. They were only scared! "How are the kitties?" I asked Barbara. "Traumatized from being in the carrier," she said. But they were in good shape. I let them be for a while and then decided I had to pet them. I found one sleeping behind the bathroom door. He let me pet him. I talked to him. I picked him up and hugged him. His warm body lay against my shoulder. I had to feel his presence and I did. Soon, a sound emanated from the hall that I would soon recognize as his brother's wish to go outside. The first time I herd it I couldn't find him. I was afraid that he had wandered behind the washer and dryer and since there is a vent in the floor I thought maybe he fell through it and ended up under the house. No, he didn't but for a while I feared it was the case. I don't remember exactly where I found him but he wasn't going outside that day. It was his constant plea. I called him Pilot. Pilot wanted out. Over the next few weeks, Pilot and his brother Prince snipped at each other for a while, but only mildly, dividing the house between them. Prince was and still is my alfa male. He would hog up all the food. I always thought I had to interfere so that Pilot could eat. One time I put Pilot in a room by himself and fed him. But he didn't seem to mind his brother hogging up all the food. He managed to grow and thrive. I figured out that Prince left him enough to eat. I was the one who thought he would starve. Well, no, he didn't ultimately starve. One day I found Prince hiding under the bed. I pulled him out and hugged him and kissed him. That was it! He knew he was king after that. He took over my bed and the house. I guess I gave him permission, I don't exactly know. Time went on. Pilot lerned to climb the cat tree to sit in the sun that regularly streams its way through the dining room window. The cats played and frolicked and tried to catch each other by the tail and play in circles. Play fighting? Pilot never got that chance. But Prince did. Well, Prince hasn't clawed anyone yet but he sure lets the back yard intruder know that he's not welcome. That's another story. Time went on and they graduated to the back yard. In my thirty-three years of living experiences this is the first time I'd had a "real' back yard. Ok it's a red clay back yard with weeds that thrive, grass that won't grow, and moles. I won't put money into planting a lawn. But I do have space and a clothes line and trees and chain link fencing. We keep it up and Prince now owns it. You may wonder why I only refer to one cat? Pilot was lost on October 30, 2019. Remember I said he always wanted to go outside. One windy night or early morning we don't know which he went to cross a street two houses from me and met a car. We discovered my nineteen-month-old cat at 9:00 in the morning. We gave him a proper burial. "He had a wonderful life with you," a friend said. I'm the one that had the wonderful life. He helped me discover a broken water pipe once and he always gave me what-for when he came home for breakfast. And I never knew a cat who could eat an entire sixteen ounce container of cat treats in two weeks. Well, he's outside now, where he always wanted to be. Someone told me that these cats were Menx and I think Pilot was the wilder of the two. We miss Pilot but we can go see him whenever we like. He's under a tree in the sun and the shade. The first winter he was buried I thought of him. He must be the happiest kitty in the world. I'm sure across the rainbow bridge he's dancing and climbing and playing. I'm sure he's dancing with Pearl and Brandy! They have all met and live happily together. He's the only male of the bunch so I'm sure the girls are happy to see him. Prince, meanwhile, lives in luxury, making time between the back yard and the house. Sometimes he even danes to sleep with me. But that's usually when it's too cold outside, or he thinks I should feed him. Sometimes in the summer he comes in the kitchen and spreads himself out across the floor. All twelve pounds of him is sprawled out always ready for a belly rub. Lately he's ready for me most times to pick lawn debris out of his fir. But he knows how to avoid, at least so far, the bad sticker patch. If he's not living it up on the floor he's cozied up to the food tray sucking down a can of chicken with gravy. That cat loves chicken with gravy. Yes, he's a Fancy Feast cat among other things. He eats three cans a day when he likes the food and when he doesnt' like it I suppose he goes bird hunting. He's brought a few feathers minus bodies into the house. He's chased a few unsuspecting baby birds in for sport and I've had to rescue them. But the proper order is probably: chicken with gravy and then birds. Depends on the season, I suppose. "Do you want another kitten?" someone asked me after I lost Pilot. "No," I said. "No. I think I'll just have one cat now." I'll put all my energy into spoiling one cat. He knows he's spoiled and pays it no mind. He comes in during bad weather, sometimes. He knows when he wants in and when he wants out and where ehe lives. He chased a stray into the house one time and then kicked him out again. I noticed today he was eying the cat from the relative safety of the table next to the door. It's his This Is My House defense. I guess he thinks he owns the table. The table is covered with a princess blanket. Fitting for a Prince. That same table is the place where both cats lay on October 29 2019 while the wind raged outside and the temperature dropped to 25 degrees or so. The two cats lay on the table with my hand between them. They purred and I sat in the canvas backed chair and thought you know this would make a great post card. I didn't know that would be the last day I had both cats in the same place. They are forever planted as a memory post card in my heart, those two cats. Prince loves to be rubbed under the chin. He loves to lay on the glass table under the window in the bedroom and look out at the cable box or the hot dusty trees, or the hot metal fence. He eyes the spot between the corner of the house and that samed fence: the place where he glides soundlessly to go to the vacant lot or beyond. He loves to soak up the sun. We don't have the cat tree anymore. The two cats gave that up when they graduated to the big world. Prince has graduated from the litter boxes though I keep them here just in case he decides he needs them. He's a very affectionate cat. He eats a lot and scares away Friend, the name I've given the intruder. Poor kitty! He just wants to be your Friend! I doubt they'll ever be friends. But who knows. Stranger things have happened! Cats. I have cohabitated with them for seventeen years. All four have led me on different adventures and even to a different state.
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