No. I don't think I miss her. She lives too much with me, part
memories, part wise cat instructions for the present. My grief comes in
unexpected moments, dreams, when my attention wavers, when I write to
inform the past. Time heals, compels today and tomorrow. I honor the
dead by letting them go as much as possible.
I am after all heading to where I'm going whether or not I want.
Nonetheless, thank you. I did love the fur ball. Although that file
tongue working over a spot on my chest at a weird dark morning hour did
not always find me endowed with patience. She needed far more than nine
lives to survive as long as she did. I do not always edit my behavior
as I frequently do my writing. ;-)
You and Bobby stirred my nostalgia and briefly exposed a softer side.
Not to worry, these lapses don't last.
S.
-----Original Message-----
From: On Behalf Of Betty B
Sent: Tuesday, October 24, 2000 3:56 PM
Subject: Re: Eggstasy? (was Astro Bird Incident report)
Steve, that was a touching story. I know you miss your Shona but I'm
glad
she brought you so many years of happiness.
Betty
In a message dated 10/24/2000 2:03:28 PM Eastern Daylight Time,
[log in to unmask] writes:
> Shona died within a year of my mother: the last, other than then
plants
> and me, of a household once lively with parents, dog, and cat. She
> lived to twenty-one: part chocolate Burmese, part tortoise-shell
> Siamese, rich aqua-marine eyes.
>
> I named her, at kitten-hood and after many weeks, from the Yiddish
for
> precious/beautiful/exalted because I cherished her nobility,
quickness,
> rapport, and repartee for which I estimated her to be unique.
>
> Except for my Washington stay, we lived together either at an
apartment
> in town or with my folks.. In my absence she snuggled with my mother
> who one night carried her back to me saying she found the cat too
> disturbing. Shona never left me again.
>
> My mother died on her hospital bed in her living-room. When I put
Shona
> beside the body she looked, paused, jumped off the bed, went to a
corner
> of the room where I never saw her go, curled up, and slept for at
least
> a day. She finally woke, gave me a hello, and didn't again sleep in
> that corner.
>
> In cool weather she would maneuver under my blankets and curled into
my
> crotch. No lovers ever were closer, none more trusted.
>
> When she died I cried for a week. Of course I mourned more than
Shona:
> she catalyzed my grief.
>
> From time to time she shows up and talks to me. She seemed more
> proficient with English than I with Cat. Then, I have no ear for
> accents.
>
> S.
>
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