Have Cat, Will Travel

It took almost two years to plan and execute my move back to Minneapolis from Tucson, a daunting task that included selling the house I’d lived in for sixteen years and most of its contents, preparing to leave all my professional support network — the doctors, attorney, accountant, Tee, my massage therapist, Darlene who cuts my hair and keeps my secrets, Firuzeh, my acupuncturist. My mah jongg group, my spiritual group, friends, neighbors. A million decisions to make.

And then there was Bill.

Bill is my accidental cat, as all the good ones are, a black and white “tuxedo” short hair who arrived at my door a month or so after the death of Miss Puss (but that’s another accidental cat story). My friend Susan who volunteered at the animal shelter, knew I was suffering kitty deficit, so when Bill arrived in the shelter she sent me a picture. He had oversized ears and big round eyes that gave him a perpetually startled look. I knew I should not be taking in a kitten, but he was adorable. Resistance was futile. I named him Sweet William the Lionhearted, which seemed appropriate at the time. But as happens, the fuzzy five pound kitty became a glossy twelve pound cat now called Bill. Continue reading

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A rare one of a kind

I recognized the sound for what it was immediately. Eighty was trying to get her back legs under her and get to the door, but this was the time it was not going to work. I’d been expecting it — dreading it — for weeks.

Eighty is the dog we chose for John’s eightieth birthday in 2002. We had been visiting the pound and the Humane Society for a week and had not found The One. “How about this one?” I asked, pointing out a medium sized black-grey one with the long legs, folded ears, bedroom slipper feet, Andy Rooney eyebrows and a bright, curious look that said, “Hey, what about me?” Continue reading