(Recently I joined a newly-formed writers critique group in our community called Writers Haven. Although this piece was originally written on February 10, 2015, I saved it for publication in order to use it as a submission to my fellow group members.)
We all
measure our lives in different ways. As a former teacher, my life
used to be measured by the school year. While others used January to
December, I measured the year from September to June, the months when
Life was in its highest gear. Much was expected, much was given, and
downtime was rare.
Now, 5
years away from the classroom and married to a shift worker, Life is
a series of 4-4-4. Four days on, four days off. Four nights on, four
off. Activities like writing in quiet solitude, reading for pleasure,
and nosily bumping around doing housework revolve around my husband's
schedule. Trust me, I'm not complaining. I much prefer Life as it is
now.
Three
weeks ago I was reminded of another of Life's yardsticks. Measuring
time through the lives of our pets. What? You say? Well, if you have
loved a pet, you'll understand. Relationships with our furry
companions are some of the most enduring.
After
18 years and several months of declining health, it was time to say
goodbye to my cat, Darcy, on January 21st. I realize it is
playing God and, for me, the best thing to do is make the decision
and make the appointment. The sooner the better.
As I
knelt on the clinic floor, my hand under Darcy's chin while the
sedative took effect, I thought about all that has transpired since
that October afternoon in 1996 when I adopted a beautiful, blue-eyed
seal-point kitten and his adorable black-and-white sister.
It had been a
milestone Saturday morning. A small group of friends had helped me
move into my first apartment in Alhambra, California. I was finally
on my own, a few months into my first teaching job in Los Angeles,
and still going to school to earn my credential. Sure, I had
practiced living “independently” during those years at college,
but this was different. I had picked my own living space, bought my
own furniture and, best of all, there were no roommates. All I needed
was a couple of kittens to add warmth to the atmosphere.
Yes, Darcy and his
sister, Ashley, who died in 2013, were the kitties I had as a real
grown up, doing grown-up things with grown-up responsibilities.
Darcy was my
talkative love bug cat. He followed me from room to room, and slept
between my feet or stretched out alongside my leg under the covers.
Over the years we
lived together in 4 different places in 2 different states. We
cuddled through the stress of changing jobs, losing a parent and
grandparents, and even through the horrific loss in 2006 of a man I
thought I would marry.
Darcy was there in
January 2009 when a very nice man contacted me online. He was there a
few weeks later when that man and I met in person. He was there
when my future husband got on one knee in my California living room
and proposed.
By the time I
moved to Washington, in October 2010, Darcy was part of the older
generation of pets, accompanied by his sister, Ashley, and my dog,
Bailey. The new generation started with Ramius, an abandoned kitten I
found under the hydrangea in my front yard.
At 6 o'clock in
the morning, September 30, 2010, my new husband and I put my
remaining belongings in the car and set off on an 18-hour trek up
Interstate 5. The 3 kitties huddled, terrified, in a roomy carrier in
the back of my SUV and 100 lb Bailey dominated the back seat. We
arrived at our recently purchased house in the Old West Side at 1AM,
exhausted and dazed from the whirlwind of the last few months.
And here it is,
almost 5 years later and the end of an era. Ashley, Bailey, and
now,Darcy, are all gone. Of the critters who made that journey, only
Ramius remains, along with our newest kitty, 6 month old Maggie May.
I know it sounds
silly to some, but our pets are part of the family. They don't
replace children or friends, but they do carve unique marks on the
heart. Of course, the greatest thing about a pet is that they offer
no judgement, cynicism, or advice. All a pet wants is for its basic
needs to be met. In return, it will give you the unconditional love
that you'll be hard-pressed to find anywhere else.
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| Confession: this is not actually Darcy. Although he was a beautiful cat, he took terrible pictures. But this gorgeous one looks identical to him when he was at his healthiest. (Picture borrowed from musicgirl094.wordpress.com.) |
