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"When furniture turns 50, it becomes a priceless antique. I just want equal rights with a sofa. -- "Girls Night Out" on A&E 8/94
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My Journals (4)

My Old Cat Sophie Tucker

 

  (This is long, so stay with it until you get to the date at the bottom)

I lost Sophie Tucker today. She was a beautiful old cat. She weighted over 18 pounds. She had become so heavy she could hardly walk. After it was over, I realized that I don’t have a picture of her. That makes me very sad. She was so precious lying on the bed on her back with her head on the pillow. Her fluffy white belly was irresistible! She loved tummy rubs. Sophie was one of those cats who looked as if she started out as a grey tabby, but had white paint poured on her. She had grey eyes and a white (not pink) nose. The first cat I’d seen with grey eyes. Such a pretty face.

 Sophie liked to sleep with her back next to mine at night. I called her my heating pad when my back would act up. I called her a little furnace when I would wake up with that daily 5:00 a.m. hot flash, and would shove her away from me. Then she was merely so BIG and so HOT and no comfort.
 
She came to us in a man’s car trunk. He stole her from his neighbor because he had a bird feeder and the cat, being a cat, would try to catch the birds. He was at my folks’ house with the trunk of his old car open when we returned one day. That evening when Mom called her cats to come to eat, she had one more cat than she did that morning. 
 
We knew where she came from because about a year later her owner turned up at our house for a visit. “That’s my cat!” she cried. And the story came out. Mom explained that Sophie had been spayed and had shots, and the woman could to take her back when she reimbursed the vet bills. The woman said her neighbor would just haul her off again and she was better off with us.
 
When she was a few years old Sophie developed bladder stones and had surgery. Mom couldn’t care for her post-op, so I took her. I lived next door. However, when she had recovered, she didn’t want to go home. That happened a lot with Mom’s cats. I would take them in so they could recover from some health issue, and they wouldn’t go home later. Sophie had surgery twice for bladder stones. She was a tough old cat. Just like a tough old woman who would refuse to give up. She would struggle and fight her way back to health.
 
Mom had not named her when I took her in. (My folks were not creative with pet names. Their pets were named Dog, Pup, Fuzzy Cat, etc.) She was felt so soft with rabbit fur hair that I started calling her “Softie” and that grew into Sophie, and as she got fatter it became Sophie Tucker.
 
Sophie’s best friend was Blackie Bear. The other cats in the household have siblings. Perhaps because these two were alone, they became friends and groomed each other and slept together like the siblings. More about Blackie at another time. 
 
Sophie had become so very fat that she would sometimes roll off the bed. And I think that may be what happened to her. The vet said she appeared to only have feeling in one front leg. She was not able to stand. She appeared to be in a lot of pain and was very frightened. She had trouble breathing and had stopped eating.
 
She would look me straight in the eyes and meow so pleadingly, obviously asking me to fix it. After all, I had fixed all her ills up to then. I will carry that sweet, pleading face with me for a long time. She seemed to be fading slowly from the back to the front, with that intelligent old cat brain still active but the body no longer responding. It reminded me so much of how my Mom and her sister died of strokes. And memories of them are still so raw.
 
I held her as she went to sleep for the last time. The vet and assistant left me alone in the room with her for a while to say good bye. They are very kind and compassionate there. They know how much I care for my animals. (And, of course, they make a lot of money on me and my menagerie.) They will keep her body until I decide what to do. I can’t bury her here because the dogs will dig her up. I considered having her cremated, but the expense! However, I could bury her at the farm. And I think tonight that I need to do that. There is no one to help me dig a hole big enough to bury a 20 pound cat, but I’ll manage. I just feel like I need to do this. I’ll have to be careful of my back. I’ve lost my heating pad.
 
6/11/08 bjs
 
 
 
 
 
Added: June 12, 2008
Views: 78 | Comments: 2 | Bookmarks: 0

My Lucky Dogs

I was always a "cat person" until 2 years ago when this golden puppy turned up on the porch.  He would stay for weeks and then disappear for a week or so.  I would worry about him, but my Mom said, "He loves us.  He’ll come back to us if he can," and he always did.  During his first winter he was hit by a car and badly injured, requiring that a temporary metal pin be inserted into his leg and other surgery.  My Mom had just passed away after a long illness and I didn’t think I could handle any more caregiving, even for a dog.  However, he made a full recovery and now sleeps on the floor beside my bed.  Then last year 2 more puppies were set inside my gate.  I tried to find homes for them.  Especially Beethoven.  I felt sure there was a little boy out there who would dearly love that big awkward puppy.  And after all, I was a cat person!  No luck, tho.  So now there are 3 big dogs taking up a big space in this cat household.  The cats have them well trained.  Fortunately we live in a place where the dogs can run raccoons up the mountain or go down the mountain for a swim in the creek.  They have a lovely dog’s life!  Each evening they come in to lay and roll on their quilt on the living room floor and munch on snacks of Cheetoe, dog biscuits, dry dog food, and other snacks I mix in a big bowl for them.  They are such lucky dogs!  And I am so lucky to have such loyal companions. 

 

Added: May 27, 2008
Views: 72 | Comments: 1 | Bookmarks: 0

Sitting In Grandma's Room
Memories of people who still live in my heart.
 
Grandma’s room wasn’t just the center of the matriarchal family; it was the center of a small community. Only visitors came to the front door. Family all entered through the back door and gathered in Grandma’s room. 
 
After my grandfather died of cancer when I was two, the family farm was split up among the children, as is Appalachian tradition. Everyone who lived in the small valley down by the river when I was growing up there was related. The children – grandchildren, nieces, nephews and cousins – roamed from house to house as we played together. All the adults watched out for us, fed us, and scolded us. My Uncle Guy’s house was across the road from the home place. Aunt Lizzie had a house nearby. Jody and Goldie, cousins, lived across the branch and Great Uncle Cal and Great Aunt Pearl’s house was at the mouth of the hollow. Their old homestead cabin is still there. 
 
The quilting frame stayed up all winter in Grandma’s room. It was surrounded by daughters, daughters-in-law, and other neighborhood women. We were all somehow related. Any female, including children, were put to work. I still “sew a fine, neat stitch” that Grandma taught me.
 
They are all gone now. No one has lived in the home place since Aunt Wavie died 12 years ago. It passed to my Mom, and then to me when my Mom died last year. Mom told me that my grandfather set it up that way so I would always have a home. Mom and I kept the old place painted and cleaned up for the last 12 years, and paid various cousins to keep all the mowing done. Aunt Wavie’s things are mostly still where she left them in the house. 
 
The house doesn’t feel empty. Strangers who go there now sometimes comment that it feels like someone still lives there. And in my mind they do. Visiting the old house is like going back in time. Others see an old farmhouse. I see memories of how it was when I was young and spending summers with my grandmother.
 
I sometimes feel a need to just sit in Grandma’s room because it strengthens me and gives me peace to remember the love and innocence of my childhood. In my memories I hear children playing outside. I hear the murmur of women’s voices and soft laughter as they gathered to share gossip and news.
Added: April 2, 2008
Views: 305 | Comments: 5 | Bookmarks: 0

New Fridge (Or how I came to realize just how spoiled my pets are!)
 

I realized something was wrong with the refrigerator when it stopped freezing my fudgesicles. This is a major inconvenience.  After I quit smoking in 1989 I became addicted to fudgesicles. Must have one after lunch and evening meal!  The fridge still made ice cubes.  Milk didn’t sour. Eggs didn’t spoil.  Froze the little individual packets of "soup meat" beef that I buy cheaper than dog food and cut up and freeze to feed the Lucky Dog each morning. It kept the squash, zucchini, leaf lettuce, fresh corn, etc., that I feed the bird each morning. The cheese wieners I feed the puppies as a treat were ok.  The deli turkey for cat treats stayed fresh as long as usual, but it didn’t last long anyway. But it would not freeze my fudgesicles. I was so sad.

So, I called the repair people who sent out a little man who immediately took everything out of the freezer and opened it up and looked down into its innards. "Compressor gone bad," he said.  "How much to fix it?" I asked. "About $400," he said. (Gulp) "I’ll let you know," I said.

I finally accepted that I had to buy a new refrigerator. For the time being, I bought a few big bags of ice and packed them in the fridge freezer to keep my milk and butter and bird’s veggies. Then turned on the computer to research new fridge costs and features and what’s on sale.

Couldn’t get to the Internet.  Computer said date was 01/01/2002 and things had expired on my computer. PANIC  PANIC PANIC OVERLOAD  OVERLOAD  OVERLOAD  OVERLOAD  Computer down!  Help!  Help!  Old.  Sick. Can’t cope!

After I recovered, I called a computer friend who said, "Try resetting the date and see if that will make the computer work."  It did. I went to Lowe’s and bought a new fridge. After the new fridge was delivered I bought up a bunch of frozen dinners that were on sale for a $1.00 and a box of fudgesicles. And more Soup Meat for Lucky Dog. And more cheese wieners for the puppies. And more deli turkey for cat treats. And the bird needed more leaf lettuce. They eat beef and cheesy wieners and deli turkey and leaf lettuce and I eat $1.00 frozen dinners. Something is wrong with that picture…

 

 

Added: April 2, 2008
Views: 201 | Comments: 1 | Bookmarks: 0