My
first two cats were Musashi and Buddha, a Burmese and
a Tonkinese. When they came to live with me, they were seven years old and
had always been together. (They were cousins, born at the same California
cattery.) The two cats got along
wonderfully, grooming one another and often sleeping together. Musashi was a
sable Burmese, and Buddha was a natural mink Tonkinese. Their coats were
very dark, and, when curled up together,
their bodies were not easily distinguished from one another. In fact, a new member of
a cleaning service
team once walked into the den and ran out screaming, “A two-headed cat!” Their
habit of sleeping together inspired this poem.
Ezekiel, a brown tabby rescued as a kitten,
joined the household in 1996. Sadly, both Musashi and Buddha died in
2005 at the age of 18.They had done a good job of socializing Zeke,
however, who fit in very well. (Click here to see a picture of
all three cats.) When Musashi died in January (see
“Musashi’s
Last Day”),
I began looking for a cattery where I might find another cat, probably a
Tonkinese. When Buddha died in February, I decided immediately to bring
home the three-year-old female Bombay I had found at the
FrankLee
Cattery in West Virginia. (The cattery breeds Tonkinese, but used to
bread Bombays as well.) Evening Light (Eve for short) is now the latest
Deimel cat. (Click
here for Eve's picture from her cat show days.) I
wrote this poem some time ago and lost it. I have been unable to find it in a
computer file or on paper. (I think I overwrote the original file with that of
another poem. Whitman didn’t have this problem.) What appears above is a
reconstruction of March 2001.
— LED, 10/1/2005 |
