YOU KNOW......I didn't mention....

...my mind has gotten so full of things, I have no room for more! Do you know, just a moment ago, I wrote almost the same post I had written and posted last? I forgot what I'd written about David's appointment.

Have you EVER done that?

David's biopsy turned out negative, which was good news.

But, and it's not so important as David--not nearly...but we had to have our old cat--"Babycat" put down about 9 days ago. I don't know if she had already "gone" when I posted last--but I didn't want to speak about it then anyway.

I think we've had about 5 cats during our 51 years of marriage. She was the shyest cat--and at times, most vengeful too --- when she wanted to be.

She wasn't really a lap cat--she was feral. She never really got over that part of her first few days of life. She never liked for strangers to come into the house-- she never got over being afraid unless it was just my husband and me. She'd hide when my family came ---and she didn't like little children.

Do you remember the poem:  Fog--by Carl Sandburg?  "....coming on little cat's feet..."

That was her. She'd quickly be up ... so lightly --- as lightly as fog coming in. She, sneaking up, I, pretending to be asleep, (and taking deep, slow breaths), before she would jump up on me.  Then, sniffing, creeping and stepping lightly to get up on my chest or down by my side, she was with me. She snuggled close and softly. She was home.

Then, our routine. I would start to whisper to her..."How soft you are, how sweet you are, what a nice girl you are, you are Mama's Babycat1" I would softly rub her head and ears., and she would deeply purr.

She would start to sink down onto and into me like my own babies had done when they were tiny. We would breathe long, slow breaths together,  and I loved to feel those little bodies asleep beside me. She cuddled like a baby--for the night.

The next day, it as pretty much all business--she wanted food, and to be alone. Then, if I napped in my chair or in bed, again she'd come -- when she thought I hadn't noticed. She would come for her whispers, her rubs.

She was very sweet and also very contrary at times! Obviously, she was bipolar!

I miss her very much. Very, very much. But she will be our last. I'm no longer really able to care for an animal as it should be cared for. My husband doesn't want to mess with the litter box or put up with her scratching at his hand, or his bare ankles, to be fed or noticed.

Have a good week, friends.
                                   

                                                    the wanderer