Buddy and Frankenkitty

The stray cat Buddy is no longer on our porch. He started his cat life as “Tom” at the neighbor’s barn across the road. When the neighbor tried to get him into a crate and take him to the vet to be fixed, he ran off and ended up on our property. I didn’t know he belonged to the neighbor and I named him Buddy... he was here for nearly a year, sleeping on the porch in nice weather, and in our garage on the cold and rainy nights. But then Buddy discovered neighbor G down the road... she has other outside cats, and I think Buddy liked their company, so he chose to relocate.

Enter Frankenkitty... a brown fluffy cat that looks like a Himalayan, complete with blue eyes. Usually, I am a pushover for blue-eyed cats, but this cat was clearly feral, hissing at me if I got too close, and then running away to hide in the barn. But his hunger got the best of him, and he came up on the porch, so of course I started leaving food out for him, which he ate, hissing at me in between bites if I stayed out there with him.

I couldn’t keep calling him Cat, so I named him Frankenkitty because the markings on his face make him look like he’s wearing a Frankenstein mask. Plus that attitude of his isn’t exactly gentlemanly. He still hisses at me, but it’s half-hearted and meant more for conversation than for fierceness. I have a cat-sized, house-shaped wicker box on the porch, covered with a heavy blanket for warmth, with a pillow-bed inside it for comfort. That little house has been a warm sanctuary for the stray cats who have made their homes on our porch from time to time. Frankenkitty sleeps in there when it’s raining or cold. I don’t let him go into the garage because I doubt he would be as comfy in there as Buddy was. Frankenkitty would most likely howl and hiss until he was let out. And if he gets too cold on the porch, he just goes over to the barn anyway.

My inside cats watch Frankenkitty through the windows of the TV room. There is silence on this side of the windows, while Frankenkitty hisses and meows at Sweet Pea, Julius, and Peaches from the other side of the glass. Savannah doesn’t like the Himalayan at all, and given the chance, she would probably chase that cat off the porch and way past the barn.

Another year...

And let’s hope this is a good one for all. I am still reeling from tragic events of last year, beginning with horribly sad news around Labor Day weekend, with another blow the week before Thanksgiving, and then we had an un-Christmas-y December because of a very bad cold that I could not shake off. Way before New Year’s Eve, I was wishing away the remnants of last year.

If I could turn back the clock a few years, I would have made changes... made amends... made a difference in the way family matters were discussed and resolved. In the belief that keeping secrets to safeguard the memory of the deceased, I chose not to disclose facts that could have made my actions better understood by the one that mattered most to me. And now the one that mattered most is no longer here. More than ever before, I am hoping that there is an afterlife so I can explain. For the past few months, I have explained and apologized in my head and in my heart at least a thousand times... it doesn’t seem to work because I cannot be certain that my words are heard. The life that was lost was too short, much too short. I will forever blame the gods of the universe for ending that life.

And life here goes on.... the kittens Julius and Peaches have suddenly grown into cats. As I type, Julius is purring on my lap with his paw resting on my wrist. Sweet Pea is sitting next to the iPad, and Peaches is asleep by my feet. Such good cats, all three. Savannah spent an hour with a dog trainer this past week, with hopes of alleviating some of her fears about the on-going and hardly-ever-ceasing gunshots and fireworks from the neighbors across the road. Those people seem to celebrate everything with noise, reckless and thoughtless noise. I tried to accept, to be nice, to be neighborly. It worked for a while, but now I am done. Just done. I guess I expected a miracle from the dog trainer, but that’s not going to happen. The initial fireworks from those neighbors, which sent Savannah running wildly into the woods and being lost for twelve days, has made such an imprint on her that it has become part of her personality. That was over two years ago. To this day, Savannah does not walk down our driveway without first stopping to stare across the road, making sure not a person or a vehicle is moving on that property. Savannah is happiest when she is in the house, and for as long as we live here I don’t think that will ever change.

Winter Break has ended and the kids are back in school now. My after-school Book Club will begin again in two weeks. My tote bags are already filled with books for the fifth and sixth grade students. Those kids make me smile. Even when they are being disruptive because their minds get filled with silly ideas, I still have to smile at their enthusiasm.