Saturday, September 23, 2006

14 years...

 "Sing, sweetness, to the last palpitation of the evening and the breeze."
-st.john perse


  

...my cat died a week ago.
I had my cat since she was a kitten, and we lived on a acerage for her first ten years. She was a great hunter, would bring me daily mice. I remember the first year she caught a bunny, l tried to save it, put it in a box with grass and left it on the porch overnight. The bunny never lived. My cat would kill and eat bunnies, would eat the whole thing, skull, bones and would only leave the stomach. Once she played with a bunny for hours it seemed until finally l had to kill the poor little rabbit. I think my cat was delighted with this, licked my hand as if l had finally learned what l had to do to eat. I never took my cat to a vet, saved the one time to get her fixed. The one time she got really sick l just put her on my bed for a week feeding her with dishes of milk and soft stuff.
I never named my cat, l couldn't think of a name that didn't sound stupid...so l just called her beauty sometimes, fathead when l was mad at her. She always slept with me, under my arm against my chest, didn't matter when l slept, she just would come and join me.
She stopped killing things after l returned from prince albert. I had left her with a friend of a friend for a year while l was away. She was so sickly when l got her back but the first night back, it was as if we had never been apart.
She was very sick the last two or three weeks before she died. She stopped purring. She stopped eating. it makes me cry. Amy and Mike helped me look after her, they loved her while l was away. She loved them.
My cat was so beautiful.

4 comments:

Anonymous said...

look for her paw print on the frozen water of the bird bath... look for the her whisker marks on the window when it is raining and the rabbits are hiding beneath the ferns

LOST AND FOUND

Twenty-one feathers in the blue jar
and still you can't fly.
Thirteen bones in the white saucer
and still you can't walk.
Three bells in a drawer,
a berry in a snail shell,
a doll's head in the window...
Stop losing things, you cry,
but they keep dropping
from the hands of the fir trees,
from the pockets of the little boys.

- Patrick Lane

ken said...

patrick lane...one of my favorites.
Thank you

Every Photo Tells A Story said...

I was looking through your blog, specifically at your pictures:) And, I found this posting. It broke my heart. I always felt a little strange loving animals more than the people in my life. But, they give so much love and ask for so little. And, when you take care of them every day, they become your child. I guess this comment is more for me than for you, but your words touched me so deeply.

kenflett said...

Thank you so much "photostory"
It brought back all the wonderful memory of her, made me sad, made me happy.
thank you