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.
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.
