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.
>