Tender Comrade

“What greater gift than the love of a cat.” — Writer Charles Dickens

Tender Comrade

I so did not want another animal or thing to care for. But God had other plans for me it seems. If you’ve read some former blog entries of mine you will know that when my husband died, I inherited the misogynist cat that had adored my husband and could not stand me. That particular cat went so far as to attack my ankles, but never my spouse’s. By the way, he was an unwanted cat—but he wore my husband down many years ago as they bonded watching the Braves win their spectacular Series in 1995. It is a law of the universe that cats gravitate to those who are not smitten with the species. Maybe cats love a challenge, maybe they want to whet their hostage-taking skills, or maybe that particular cat was just lonely as his mom had been left on the side of the road and all the litter had been handed off except him.

It was my daughter who brought him home, begging us to keep him for 2 or 3 days until she could find a sucker—uh, a home for him. Well, we turned out to be the suckers, but it was okay as I saw my husband cave to this feline, his first ever bromance with a cat. But when my husband passed away I was left with his cat until I had fought its kidney disease (the same thing that had taken my husband’s life) and could not hold back the death that was closing in on him any longer.

So, after taking him to the vet to be put down (he truly was suffering and the vet said she had done everything, prescribed everything, and he was just in constant pain.) After I sat with him as he became drowsy and then quietly went to sleep forever, I took an oath to not have any more pets.

But watch out for final thoughts on things because FATE has a way of handling things as FATE would have them play out. And so, a beautiful Russian Blue ultimately came into my life. She and a border collie dog lived next door, but their owner moved and abandoned them. (May there will be a special little corner somewhere to deal with people who are cruel to animals.) At any rate, my daughter took the dog, which had been chained and left to starve I guess. At the time I was dealing with the cat that had kidney disease and could not tend to the Russian Blue. So she wandered around, living where she could, and another neighbor and I fed her.

The kind neighbor kept her in the garage during winter days and finally, when my cat was gone, this beautiful homeless feline tugged at my heart strings and I finally took her for my very own.

Well, I shall always believe that God has a plan and will not give up until you give in. I read up on Russian Blue cats and here’s what Wikipedia says:

“The Russian Blue is a naturally occurring breed that may have originated in the port of Arkhangelsk in Russia. They are also sometimes called Archangel Blues. It is believed that sailors took them from the Archangel Isles to Great Britain and Northern Europe in the 1860s. The first reference to an Archangel Cat appears in British print in 1862.”

Did you get that?---Archangel Isles. It is no coincidence that I was sent a cat with such a history. I firmly believe that I have my very own angel cat that lives with me now and loves me with all her heart. And, yes, you guessed it---I love her just the same way.

Here’s how I am blessed by this furry girl:

--She gets in my lap and keeps me warm or loves on me when she knows that I am lonely or sad

--She follows me as if she is making sure I am safe

--We have conversations—well, I talk and she listens and I am totally convinced she understands everything I say

--She uses her superhuman hearing to alert me to strange noises in the night

--She knows my moods, and reacts accordingly—if I’m quiet she reflects that, and if I’m animated she follows and plays

--She grooms herself often and always acts like a lady

--She sleeps next to my computer when I am working there

--Oh, yes, and the weirdest thing of all that she does? . . . You remember I once recounted that in family photos I always had my hand touching someone next to me? This muffin will come and put her paw out and touch my hand and leave it there as if to anchor me. She looks like me in all the photos! Proof positive that something mystical is going on.

Now, I put the question to you? How could anyone with a heart—even a heart of Grinch proportions NOT love such a partner in life? When my husband died, I had much to handle. Probate court loomed before me, and house and appliance repairs, and taxes, and the remainder of the mortgage, and trees that needed cutting and lions, and tigers and bears. It was overwhelming. I would often say to my closest friends that in this house it was just me and God in the foxhole called Life. But God saw fit to send me an angel—mine just happens to have gray fur and green eyes, but her heart, ah, her heart—it’s the heart of a tender comrade for sure.

“You know how it is with cats: They don’t really have owners, they have staff.” — Author PC Cast

“The only escape from the miseries of life are music and cats… ” — Physicist Albert Einstein