Monday, February 25, 2008

Vera … Vera …

video
I guess enough friends have inquired about the whereabouts of the sister in the pair of littermates I agreed to inherit rather than lose the company of when their mistress abandoned them a couple of years ago on a fling with a thing. I gotta face the fact that sweet Vera is to never return without the slightest notion where she’s gone. It is much different than knowing she died like the past two that passed through my home and heart. In memoriam to her I present the following fairy tale I wrote for a collection Minx was asking for contributions to sometime last year.

Goldiwotsits and Boldigrushin

She wasn’t the most affectionate person in the world, but when Goldiwotsit wanted loving she knew some covers she could climb under to reap all the affection she and Boldigrushin ever needed. They both slept alone most of the time just for the comfort of guilt free farting and collision free restlessness. They both had their middle of the night inspirations to get up and write, draw, make or eat something and middle of the day siestas and passed each other affectionately in their separate interests throughout their lives. When the weather grew chilly the farts and the nearness kept them warm every night.

Goldiwotsit had a special life all her own of which she never spoke nor would he be aware had he not loved to watch her in his idle hours as she followed her muse about her day. Without benefit of books or teachers he watched her learn about reflection, refraction, spectrums, magnification and fluid dynamics by experimenting in the pond near their home. These were experiences she would never forget due to complete lack of need to explain herself to anyone. The closest she came to discussing such things was gazing into Boldigrushin’s eyes until they both slowly closed them with a nod of mutual understanding and ultimate love.

When he was rapt at his drawing board at times of her repose she could just sit and watch his concentration, his inhalation upon inspiration, his exhalation of herbal dilation, his tongue flicking in and out as if whittling out the precision of his expression. She wondered what the source of his need to have the rest of the world see what he sees might be. He’d spent a lifetime getting better at it and when they’d met he’d left the city behind to establish this wooded home as a place he could draw his pictures to trade for bullets to keep the wolves from their door. This gave him the quiet solitude to write his stories and tootle his flute for the pure pleasure of expression and learn to grow his vegetable garden for the satisfaction of self reliance in supplying the absolute necessity of life. She didn’t understand and felt no urgency to end such an interesting, alien mystery.

When she needed his attention, his touch, she knew she had only to nuzzle his ear to draw him back from the world of his imagination and gain him all to herself so long as the feeing was mutual or until either one became interested in something else. No matter who they may be with or what they were doing, they both knew their primary interest was in each other. It was less concern about whether they were doing well and more admiration for how well they did everything in their lives, even the learning from their own mistakes part.

Her curiosity was mostly satisfied by watching one place for long periods to let the pitter-patter pattern of local activity establish itself wherever she alit so that she could filter it out of her attention to spot the anomalies by the slightest glimpse, peep, scent or electric charge out of the ordinary. Boldigrushin had learned the method from her while they meditated on the mystery of life each sunrise sitting in his potting shed over looking the garden. She knew he understood her when he entered the state required to notice and watch a clod of dirt become dislodged and unbalanced by an emerging broccoli sprout and roll several inches away.

When this autistic, fugue, trancelike patter analysis state gleaned curiosities sufficient for further investigation, she was all over it whether it was a slithering lizard, a four leaf clover, new noise, scent of jasmine, nose right down in it for all the rare sensations to be offered. Seeing life be a such joy for her, whether snoozing or active, lightened his sometime jaded attitude toward his species’ jaded attitude toward the nature of the planet that sustained the lives of all its species. He got especially upset with their treating the rest of the world as property. always prompting him to explain to her that they even think they own their daemons and call them pets. When he got this agitated she knew he needed to be kneaded in his tense shoulder muscles now that she’d learned to hold in her claws.



cat and mouse

Because that song of Pink Floyd’s echoes so bittersweetly even when talking to her brother, Priest, that I have changed his name from the one they grew up together with. In light of the fact that he now has my attention all to himself he takes total advantage of mutual affection sharing to the point that I have decreed his name is now Schmoo, both for his color and shape and willingness to be whatever Lil' cxcxxxxx Abner needed at the time. As a sign of his constant companionship he added his agreement to Al Capp’s hero’s name.


the original schmoo

11 comments:

littlebitofsonshine said...

Bless you and your schmoo.Sometimes its the so called little ones in life that make it all worth living.Thanks for sharing such a wonderful story.

Anonymous said...

When given the choice of knowing the sad fate of a feline friend gone missing,or wondering forever about the possible unknowns, I would much rather wonder. Some people need "closure" so they can move on to dedicating their emotions to other recipients, but I consider life more of a web than a linear existence with beginnings and endings. And within a web, anything is possible. So with much hope, I wish your sweet Vera, and my recently missing friend, my little Willie Nelson, my little red-headed stranger, all the best in their journeys, be they physical or spiritual, and keep open the idea of encountering them again in this life or possibly another. In my mind, my Willie is simply "on the road again"
Hugs to you and schmoo,
Amber

Lilwave said...

I've learned from my loving little Bowie-Kitty that sometimes they must go on an adventure. Sometimes for days, sometimes for a month. I thought for sure she had left us for good but returned home a month later extremely fat. I assumed it was a new cat food that a nearby neighbor bought which grabbed her attention for a while. It made me have to question how many humans Bowie claimed as her own. I hope Vera stops in with you again.

gregra&gar said...

Thanks for your empathy everyone.

Princess Haiku said...

Thank you for sharing your sweet, sad story. I lost a beloved feline once, too.

Minx said...

If we did not love then we would not have to suffer the pain of loss.

When I first read your tale it brought a warm smile of recognition. I hope you will soon be able to read it and smile yourself.

Love and light.

Absolute Vanilla (& Atyllah) said...

What a beautiful tribute to a very pretty cat. I know what it's like to lose a beloved pet to death, but I can only imagine how awful and heartbreaking it must be to have a pet disappear.

gregra&gar said...

I gotta go with Amber on the preference to losing a loved one to mystery than the certain finality of death, even though we have no problem imagining after-life scenarios in our life of best wishes for the unknown.

For me the ties to a pet are less a matter of dedication than a force I am loath to resist. Jest cain't hep it!

karoline said...

one single thread that runs through each and binds us to another is grief. i'm sorry for your loss mr.g, i would prefer to think her lost in time in a field of dreams, somehow so ensnared in her joy, she's simply forgotten time...

luv and hugs
k:)

gregra&gar said...

Welcome back, Karoline. Missing someone is the purest form of natural attraction so exploited and perverted in a culture based on being granted ownership — no attitude for symbiots to have. Vera leads her own life, as do we all. I am grateful she remained as long as she did.

karoline said...

:))))

as did she...