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The Favorite It all began with Calamity. The quirky, coal-black Braveheart who chased the neighborhood dogs away entered my life when I looked down into a cardboard box labeled “Free Kittens to Good Homes” in front of the grocery store in my college town. I was seventeen, and looking for a special friend—one look into her kitten-blue eyes, and we connected. Calamity’s glossy fur soaked up my happiness after teenage accomplishments and my sadness after failed dates and broken promises. She was the first to hear about my triumphs in school and in life as I learned how to be independent. Calamity always responded with a purr as I whispered into her fur, “I love you the most—you’re my favorite person.” After college she moved with me, saw me through a graduate degree, accepted my husband, and aged gracefully with her glistening fur growing brown as she followed her beloved sun-patches throughout the house. Eventually, she grew gaunt with kidney disease and a fluid-secreting tumor in her chest, but never complained as our vet Jennifer slid the needle into her pleural cavity to allow her lungs to expand with breath. She died in my arms at the age of sixteen, her last breath inhaling our love for her as our tears fell unchecked onto her fur. Calamity One small, frail cat had been our life force. My husband and I were bereft, and craved new life to muffle the empty echoes of our hearts and our home. We rescued two kittens, a brother and sister, to open the painful, tight kernels of our abandoned hearts. The female, Thomasina, had sumptuous black seal-fur like Calamity, and her brother The Pie sported a mustachio and a tuxedo with fancy markings. Unlike Calamity who had slept under my hand every night, Thomasina preferred to lie across my ankles, and soon established her role as the sweetest cat in the world. She liked to be carried to bed, and was the first one in each night and last one out every morning. Thomasina was a motherly type, who sensed sadness and hastened to comfort with chirpy purrs. I could confide my hopes and dreams into her little bat-shaped ears, and tell her “I love you the most—you’re our favorite” as she raised my spirits with her sweetness.
The kittens, Pie and Thomasina The Pie was another story. His fur was as thin as his sister’s was thick, but he cut a dashing figure with his lightening-bolt blaze, white shirt-front, and white diamonds on his tummy. Pie craved attention, and loved to be “messed with.” He would hover around in hopes my husband or I would grab his feet or gently pull his tail—the more we tickled his toes, the harder he’d purr and give us a head-butt of delight. The Pie had an endearing little habit of bringing a toy to bed each night. But, since Pie always craved the limelight, he would carry on, meowing and trilling over his chosen toy for hours into the night. He made up for his silliness by being the ultimate interactive cat, always sitting with us and drooling his happiness as we stroked him under the chin. We’d whisper in his ear “We love you the most—you’re our favorite” as he squeezed his eyes shut in contentment.
The Pie Our happy quartet expanded yet again as a wild cat from the stables adopted us. Thistle, a beautiful silver mackerel tabby, had chosen me as a partner from the first moment he allowed me to touch his smoky fur. He readily blended into the family, happily wrestling with Pie and sleeping back-to-back beside Thomasina. Thistle was a love sponge, and would snuggle between my laptop and my stomach as I tapped away with my work, purring softly and gazing up at me from time to time to ask for a pat. He was never happier than when my husband and I made him into a kitty sandwich in the mornings as we both hugged him close and kissed him, telling him “Don’t tell the others; we love you the most—you’re our favorite.”
Four cats, two lifetimes. All different but special, each loved with equal fervor, filling an empty place in our souls. Thomasina brings the purest sense of affection, Pie supplies the laughter, and Thistle gives us the trusting gift of his wild heart. Each cat is a little packet of Chi, a bundle of unconditional love, and we are incomplete without our tribe of favorites. -- Anne Ahlman Note: Sadly, after a brave
battle against chronic renal failure, Thistle has left us to fly free among the
angels. Our forever kitten,
the light of my heart, will never be forgotten. |
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Thomasina
Thistle