This House Needs a Cat

Last month, we had to put our kitty Esther, 18 years old, to sleep. It was a tough decision, but the right one.

I felt like a fool when I sobbed in front of the people at the veterinary clinic. But she’d been with us sixteen years. That’s a long time.

It was really hard the first days after. I sat in my work (easy) chair with my computer, and I expected her to crawl on my lap. I went upstairs and into our room, and thought I’d hear her announcing she’s hungry. I’d lie in bed at night, and was sure I felt her climbing on to snuggle down by my face.

I thank God for this gift, and I hope I’ll have happy memories for a long time.

But we needed another kitty to love.

A couple weeks ago, we went back to the Animal Protection League, the same place we got Esther sixteen years ago. This time we came home with Eli, (Sarah named him) a seven-month-old black and white kitty with big feet. If you can catch him, he is a soft, sweet bundle with a loud, rattling purr.

That’s not easy to do.

He’s crazy. He runs and jumps and streaks through the house.

The first day he was home, Sarah saw him balanced on his back feet on a window ledge, batting at a moving tree limb on the other side of the window. He’s only knocked down three curtains so far. One of his favorite games is grabbing my hand with all four paws and chewing.

He climbed into an open dresser drawer, crawled behind the drawer into the back of the dresser, and hid. He leaps from the bed to grab at the chain for the ceiling fan.

He likes Caleb and visits his room often, even though Caleb is the one who has the scary dog, also named Esther. Eli and Esther are still figuring out their relationship. Mostly Eli avoids our dog, although Esther did chase him in the basement one day.

Sarah loves him, but she doesn’t want him to get in her room while she’s not there. She has breakable items which he likes to jump around and explore.

She’s smart about this concern. Eli knocked one of my talking clocks on the floor and broke it. I’ve told him if he’d let me catch and love on him more often, I’ll be more likely to forgive him for that.

He’s quite a different character than our precious old-lady kitty, who loved to snuggle and curl up on my lap. But he has brought much pleasure into our home.

St. Baldrick's Day

On March 17, 2003, Murray called me at work and asked if it was okay if he got Benjamin’s head shaved. Benjamin was six.

At A.J. Rocco’s, a club in downtown Cleveland, they were having a fundraiser for children’s cancer research. They would shave your head on St. Baldrick’s Day. Murray saw it on the news that morning and wanted to take Benjamin and go.

I said “sure.” Why not?

Murray said when they got there, the ladies checking them in repeatedly asked, “Are you sure this is okay with his mother?”

This March 17 will be Benjamin’s fifteenth time to shave his head for children’s cancer research. I always love rubbing his head afterward. I wonder if he’ll let me do that this year.

Rebecca did something very brave when she was thirteen. She shaved her head; she was in the seventh grade.

She raised quite a bit of money that year, from people at school, from people at A.J. Rocco’s. Rebecca said her legs were a little shaky when she stood after her hair was gone. Another lady there who was also having her head shaved put her arm around Rebecca and said, “There’s no shame when you’re doing it for children’s cancer.”

More and more people have joined each year, but Benjamin said he’s one of only two or three who have stuck with it since that first time at A.J. Rocco’s.

We believe this is an excellent fundraiser, and we’re proud of Benjamin. Check out St. Baldrick’s at the website listed below.

https://www.stbaldricks.org/participants/mypage/896586/2017

Healing

I’m writing short stories to practice third person instead of first.

HEALING

The clock showed 2:37 a.m. when she picked up the phone.

“Marsha, Mom is dying.”

For the first time in five years, Dan’s voice caused Marsha’s heart to twitch. “Is she home?”

“Yes.” Dan tried to control the pain in his voice. “She wants to see you. Can you come? Bring the kids?”

Marsha turned to the back seat as she fastened her seatbelt. Jenny was already asleep again, but David’s eyes were wide open.

“Dad said Grandma is going to die?” He gulped. “Right away?”

How could a twelve-year-old look so weary with life?

“Yes, honey. The doctor said it will probably be today.”

Dan took the kids to see his mother often. They knew she had cancer and that she’d asked for the treatments to be stopped. Still, this would devastate them.

Why, God? Why does such a great lady have to die too early? She loves you. She trusts you. And her family still needs her. Marsha’s breath caught. I still need her. Please, God …

Marsha couldn’t force any more prayer. David had no further questions. The rest of the trip to Cindy’s house stayed silent.

Marsha stopped the car. “Guys, wake up. We’re here.”

She wrapped an arm around both kids as they walked to the front steps. Dan stood inside the open door.

“Hey, guys. Come on in.”

Jenny looked up at her dad. “Daddy, why are we up so early?”

He pulled her into a hug. “Come on, baby. Grandma wants to see you.” Dan glanced at David. “Hi, son.”

“Hi.” David lowered his head from his father’s gaze.

Dan looked to Marsha. “Thank you.”

Marsha nodded. Her throat couldn’t open enough for words right then.

“The Hospice nurse is sitting with Mom right now. She’ll leave so we can have privacy.” Dan gave a light knock on the bedroom door, then led them inside.

Marsha noticed a slight, gray-haired lady slip out of the room, but her eyes were drawn magnetically to the bed.

When she and Dan divorced five years earlier, he asked her not to tell his mom. She’d just learned of her cancer.

“We don’t need to give her another reason for sorrow.”

Marsha agreed, not because she wanted to please Dan, but because Cindy was her friend. Her sister. Her mother.

Since then, she’d continued to visit Cindy with the kids. It’s only been a month or so. She is … she’s so different.

Cindy lay asleep, her hands curled beside her face. She’s shrunk so much. She’s … dying.

David moved to the side of the bed. He held out his hand, pulled it back, then laid it on his grandmother’s shoulder.

Jenny pressed close to Marsha. “Mama?” she whispered.

Marsha wrapped her arms around her child. “It’s okay, honey. Do you want to hold Grandma’s hand?”

Jenny gave a sharp shake of her head.

Dan knelt in front of Jenny and cupped her cheek. “That’s okay, sweetie. If you’d like, I’ll take you to the kitchen and get you a drink.”

Jenny nodded. Marsha felt her daughter’s tears drip onto her hands. She bent to kiss Jenny’s head. “Go with Daddy, sweetie.”

Jenny’s just eight. Should we have done this to her?

“Dave, you want to come with us?”

Dan wrapped an arm around David’s shoulders. David stiffened, then sank against his dad. Marsha watched the three of them walk out of the room. That looked like a comforting group to be a part of.

Five years ago, Dan met Judy on a business trip. For a short time, he turned his back on Marsha and his children.

It didn’t last long, but when he came to Marsha to beg forgiveness, her heart shriveled and lost any spark of life for him.

Marsha bit her lip and turned back to the bed. She sat on the floor and rested her head on the pillow next to Cindy.

“You were my Mama.”

Cindy had been her piano teacher, her confidante, her encourager when Marsha’s family showed her little support.

“You loved me, and listened to me. You helped me believe Jesus loved me.”

And when Cindy invited Marsha into her home, Marsha met Cindy’s son. A man with laughing eyes and a warm hug.

She folded her hands around the tiny, bony hands which once were so strong.

“I’m sorry if I disappointed you. I love you so.”

Dan sat down on the floor next to her. “Jenny’s already asleep on the couch. David found a book to look at, but he’ll probably be out soon.”

Marsha turned to look at the man who, for so many years, had been her best friend. More recently, this had been a stranger’s face, but today?

She had an overwhelming need to touch him.

She held out her hand, then stopped.

Dan enclosed her hand in his. His eyes held such sadness.

Marsha leaned to Dan, and his arms came around her. It felt like home.

“Thank you. Thank you … for letting me see this.”

Cindy.

Marsha stayed in Dan’s arms, but turned back to face her friend. Cindy’s eyes were open, sunken, but smiling.

“Marsha.” Her voice was low and breathy, but still kind. “You are my daughter. You don’t disappoint me. But … please remember … forgiveness is healing, and mostly for the one who forgives.”

Marsha gasped. Did Cindy know? How could she not know?

Dan laid a gentle hand on his mother’s cheek. He opened his mouth, but no words came.

Cindy nestled her cheek against his hand. “I love you, precious Danny.”

Her eyes closed again and she smiled. Her breaths were slow and calm.

Dan stood and turned to Marsha. “I should get the nurse. In case … in case she needs medicine.”

His lips trembled, and his hands shook.

Marsha moved back into his arms and wrapped hers around him.

Who was comforting who? It didn’t matter. Their strength mingled to hold each other upright.