Tuesday, July 7, 2015

A Queen Among Cats



Snarfy


She's my cat


Actually she started out being Older Sister’s cat originally.


Snarf Snarf Narconon


Her whole name was a reference to something, but we just called her Snarfy.


The way she put down the food and packed on the fat made the name almost prophetic.


But I loved her, even if her stomach did swing back and forth when she ran.


She was a queen among cats


Independent, prideful - imagine the grandmother from Downton Abbey, only younger… and as a cat.

yorkmix.com



Nobody else in the family liked her like I did. Probably because she could be grouchy, and she didn’t grovel for attention and affection like the other two cats did. She had more dignity than that.


She was my cat.


At times she would wander through the house loudly calling “mouw wa!” over and over, until she found me, then she’d abruptly stop and look contented. Brother always said that she was calling me her “mama.”


Whenever I’d get upset and curl up on my bed crying, she would seem to sense my sadness and jump up on my bed and curl up beside me. She wouldn’t demand attention, just be there with me like she knew that would help. And her eyes held no judgment of the tears I made sure my brothers never saw.


When I’d enter a room and see her laying in a sun beam, she’d look back at me from across the room. My face would soften just to see her looking so beautiful and because I loved her so much… and her eyes almost seemed to smile back at me and grow deeper with a warmth that wasn’t normally there, as if she was glad to see me too and loved me just as much. Then she would look away, strong, unsentimental, and queenly once again, and go back to sleep.





Her pride was always her downfall though, and a source of entertainment for us often heartless kids. Some of the tortures she had to endure were being thrown into a swimming pool, thrown into snow, held up to a toaster to watch her flip when it popped, being dressed like a hairy baby, and being the prisoner of a game of who can hold onto the cat the longest. Some people say animals don’t have emotions, but this cat could feel embarrassment good enough. On several occasions she would walk gracefully up to the end of the couch or other surface, judge the distance, then soar gracefully into the air. But sometimes she’d slip, or not jump far enough, and would tumble in an ungraceful heap onto the floor. That was always enough to make us all burst into laughter. What got me, though, was the way she’d look up at me with deeply mortified and hurt green eyes, as if she couldn’t stand to be embarrassed in front of me, and that I had wounded her deeply for laughing. She’d streak out of the room, ears flat, tail almost tucked between her legs and eyes to the floor. I would always run after her then, sorry that I had laughed, and apologize to her.



Sometimes, I would almost forget that she wasn’t human. She’d recline in the arm chair, back resting against the back, arm resting on the arm rest, just like one of us. One of her favorite places to sit was a doll stroller, she’d climb in it and sit just like a contented baby. Sometimes the wheels would move and she’d walk it on her two back legs until it would stop against something solid, then climb in.




Most cats bring dead mice or birds to express their love to their owners, but Snarfy brought me socks. She’d come proudly in, a balled up sock in her mouth, and plop it down near me, with that same warm, loving look in her eyes


Now she’s gone…


Whether she’s been adopted by another family, or was put to sleep we don’t know. The shelter said they wouldn’t tell us one way or the other, so we will never know. It doesn’t make much difference to me either way, she’s still gone. With the selling of our house in the cities coming closer, and a strict no pets rule in our current place, we’re forced to have to let her go. No farmers in the area would want a declawed, fat cat to keep the mice down in their barns. Nobody needs another cat, whether they got 3 or 0, they’ve always got exactly how many they want… no room for one more. But to me, she wasn’t just another cat. She was my baby. 


She was MY cat… and I miss her.



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