A few days ago Lucky, our cat, died. Her absence already leaves a hole in our heart. When I woke in the morning she would quickly run into the bathroom where we kept Aher things@, food, water, litter box. She wanted to be petted. But don=t think for a minute that she was one of these loving types of cat. Lucky had an attitude, an attitude that was well earned. We are told that she was found as a kitten in a cemetery. She had a beebee in her neck. My son Michael and one of his roommates, realizing how beautiful she was (all black with golden eyes) mulcted her from the boys next door when she happened to wander over to their apartment. He brought her home that year during his summer break at Cornell much to the objections and fulminations of my wife Sue. Sue wanted no part of any cat in her house and she complained bitterly to me for a full week anticipating the worst when Athat cat@ would show up. No need to worry. Lucky won her heart in a nano second. One look at Lucky and Sue was her slave.
Lucky loved the house. She could go out play and we didn=t have to worry that much. At this point in Lucky=s life she was no house cat. She hunted all night and got home when she wanted to. Once in a while she came home pretty beaten up and we had to get her over to the vet. But all in all she was out there with the best of them. She wasn=t large and I assume she got through cat protocol by her good looks and a healthy sense of when to get out of the way. We never filed her claws and our furniture showed it. But when both Michael and Meredith were finished with high school Sue and I decided to return to the city to live....so the claws had to go. Meredith raised some objections but to no avail. One set of furniture was enough.
The kids are calling. Each one remembers Lucky in their own special way. Michael feels proud of himself that he had the good sense to meet mom head on and insisted that she come home to stay. Had she remained at Ithaca she certainly would have been abandoned and died in the cold and rain of an Ithaca winter. Meredith remembers taking care of Lucky and getting great comfort from her when she was experiencing those emotional roller coasters of teen age hell. And as for us, Sue and I, Lucky stayed home when the kids left, stayed home with us and gave us great joy. Lucky was there for Sue when she was holed up in the house for months after her knee operation.
When I write about Lucky I fear that I may sound mawkish, giving to Lucky far more importance in our lives than what is reasonably expected. In the scheme of things Lucky=s death except for us, is of little moment. But how is it that this little animal, having lived with us for 12 years can grab hold of our hearts with such intensity of feeling? It is not in the character of a cat, even a cat such as Lucky, even if there is such a thing at all, to have bellow forth such deep feelings of loss and love. But it is in our character as human beings to draw deep into ourselves and find love for even in the simplest of living things. I suppose we acquired this characteristic because we are physically weak creatures in a world of nasty and terrible things. We therefore learn to draw on everything we can to hold together a chaotic world with danger and death. We reach out to everything and anything to save ourselves. Well, thank you Lucky, thank you Lucky the cat, for doing your part in holding it together for us for the few moments you were on this earth.
The Country Lawyer
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