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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