Stray Kitties

Now Katie is a very self-dependent woman (anything less would disgust me). So when I make a comparison, to make a point (as well as a bit of humor), I need to be careful not to press the comparison, or the joke, too far. So with that caveat...

I've caught myself a couple of stray kitties.

Jasper came along first, of course, in September of 2006, care of my friend Martha. Martha and I had met through ballroom dance, ocasionally enjoying a waltz together, and then becoming very close friends during the winter of 2005, when I was in New Hampshire taking care of my mother, and returning to Rhode Island on odd weekends to water my plants, see friends and get in a little dancing. Martha lives with her mother, along with the mother's four cats, all females.

So Jasper came along, escaping a dog- and child-ridden home where he found no refuge. Very endearingly and very intelligently he auditioned for a place in Martha's home: sleeping on the doormat on the porch, rubbing charmingly against their shins, even presenting himself to have the medicine pills which the females refused. Oh, in addition to trying to hump the four cats, and spraying all over the place. So Martha's mother had him neutered. Yeah, I'm sure he was thankful for that.

Still, he kept showing up, but the year was getting on, and the two women worried that Jasper would face the fall and winter alone. So Martha called me.

It took me about ten seconds or so to decide I liked him, and a week later he was in my condo, slinking around, crying piteously from disorientation. The first night he spent curled up right next to my head--the only night he's spent continuously with me on the bed. (I moved around too much, I think, but these days with Katie it's just too crowded. Now he's more prone to show up in the morning to wake me up, like today when he lay down on my back and began kneading my buttocks. With his claws.)

Anyway, Jasper's mannerisms were often pitiable during his first six months with me. If I were up in my office--as I often was, no longer at school, having quit the GSO that fall in frustration--he'd begin crying if I weren't with him. I'd call his name, and about fifteen seconds later he would quietly walk in and settle himelf nearby, lying down with his eyes on me. If I ever picked Jasper up--something he was a bit unwilling to accept at first--he would cling to me, not even with the annoyed "I'm-comfortable-don't-put-me-down" demeanor of cats. No: Jasper would fight to stay with me, clutching with his claws, ears rolling back and eyes wide with panic, as if to be put down was to be abandoned and left alone again. When was desperation ever more lovable?

We created a few customary habits with each other--Jasper has developed specific relationships with several different people--but the first, aside from just feeding him or playing at night, was that I would come home, and he'd come walking up to the door. I would pick him up, place him on my right shoulder (if I put him on my left now, he'll squirm and actively fight to move to the right), cradle him in my right arm and then scratch his head and neck with my left hand, as I turned on the lights. After a week or so of doing this, I realized that my shoulder had a small wet patch afterward: Jasper was drooling. That's what he does, in moments of pure, abandoned bliss, I guess. It's so disgusting that it's charming too.

Jasper still retains traces of being homeless and alone. He has a very inquiring demeanor, at times testing his footing very carefully when he wants to lie down on you. Even his call, the inquisitive "P-r-r-r-r?" feels like "May I please join you?" As if he needs to ask after three years of living here and climbing all over me (and ruining my soccer jerseys by kneading).

So that's one stray kitty.

Kate chose to join me, of course, and she wasn't brought here in a box along with litter, several cans of food and instructions for her care. (She can let me know the instructions by herself.) There are moments when I feel a bit exasperated at having to show her things, like basics of working with paint, or directions around Rhode Island and the highways. But she learns quickly, and besides, I've done lots of varied things in 38 years, including carpentry...and I've lived in RI for nearly a decade. So the frustration is short-lived, and practically invisible when I think of it alongside my satisfaction in her.

And there are moments when Katie nearly breaks my heart with the gratitude she shows over such simple and ordinary things.

Not long after I'd arrived home from Louisiana, and we hadn't yet sold the Nissan to her mother and Dave, we did a bit of furniture shopping for her: a $48 pine bureau from the Salvation Army store, which went in the bay window upstairs. (Jasper immediately claimed it as his new bed of choice, but was out of luck once Katie put her boxes and perfumes and other paraphernalia on it. Now the cat's back to the sill.)

After we'd finished putting the drawers in place, Katie dragged up her one small suitcase and began unpacking the socks and clothing from it into one or two of the drawers. I asked her if that was all she had to put in it, and she said yes, for now. The rest of her clothing was still up at Duggin's, in other suitcases. "I haven't had my own bureau to put my clothes in for over a year."

She didn't say anything specific today when we picked up the car--found a relatively cheap 4Runner, my first choice--but she doesn't need to. Just the sense of security and happiness she exudes--and her acceptance of our life together, by her continuing with it--is enough.

This weekend we went to Connecticut for a family reunion, of my mother's side (the Sunderlands). Elizabeth, my mother's older sister (I'll always know her as Aunt Beth) invited us all to her home for the holiday weekend. So Aunt Beth, Uncle Jack (the youngest of those three--my mother was the middle child) and most of us cousin-generation were there, along with a fair number of the grandkids.

Katie had met most at the time of the wedding, and we'd driven out to meet Aunt Beth specifically, since she was delivering the invocation and prayer for the ceremony. Besides, I think of Aunt Beth as the matriarch of the family, and her acceptance of Kate was important to me. Uncle Jack had given the first reading at the wedding, and impressed everybody with his rich bass voice (clearly Bops' son). Not all the cousins had been there, since we invited only those people within driving distance without huge families of their own to tend to. But with all that, Katie had already met about 2/3 of the people at the reunion, on top of all the family resemblances you'd expect. So it was hardly like walking into a room full of total strangers for her.

The women threw her a baby shower. I was in on it, and had two jobs: (1) get her there by Saturday afternoon, and (2) keep her out of the house while they were setting everything up. (1) was a snap, but I almost blew (2). She was going inside for a drink when I had to come hustling up from behind and shout, "Hey, Kate!...um...uh...Julie has, a, question for you."

Yeah, right. That was sure convincing. Thinking as quickly on my feet as ever.

So they gave her lots of baby stuff, including toys for both child and parents (I've been wanting one of those jogging strollers with the big wheels--sort of like running shoes and training pants, they just make you look more athletic, you know?). Only, we couldn't bring any of it home because we'd driven out in the Z, since I hadn't been able to get the Toyota yet (talk about toys for the parents!). Kate was amazed at the warmth and acceptance everybody showed her (though I can say that they've been waiting awhile for me to get my act together and get hitched--but they seem quite pleased with the lady I found).

Kate has a big family of her own, on both the father's and mother's sides, so she doesn't need another. But it's a good feeling, a real restorative, to find another home-like landing spot. I know how great and satisfying a relief it is to find a new home with new family. It's not like Kate's and my budding family needs a lot of reinforcement, but it's comforting also to know that she can find such reassurance in my extended clan.