Extremely Playful

"Extremely Playful"

That was the sign I missed next to the cage at the Anti-Cruelty Society in Chicago back in June of 2003 when I went to pick out a kitten as a playmate for another kitten I had found.  He was alert, active, and I put in for his adoption.  Several forms, a class on correctly "disciplining" your cat, and all the usual checks to make sure my landlord approved, I had the appropriate income, and confirming payment of the neutering and he was mine.  

That's when I noticed the sign... and he lived up to that warning.

I chose the name Winston Churchill after the cat in "Pet Semetary."  Although, unlike that cat, I called him Winston instead of Church.  He was more of a Winston.  And, I like to say his name suited him because he was a pistol.  At that time, he was 11 weeks old and I introduced him to Sofie who was the same age.  They became friends and have been life-long companions.

He was my source of joy and frustration during that intern year.  Mostly joy; although I didn't appreciate finding my figurines and picture frames being knocked over when I came home after a 24 shift at the hospital.  But, he was always there with a purr and a head butt.  His spot on the bed was right behind my knees.

My husband taught him to jump up on his shoulder.  He was also the one to introduce Winston to the first snowfall every year.  Winston did not appreciate the snow plunge but somehow always came back for more.

White Bear Lake, MN

Winston was well-travelled having made the move from Chicago to Boston to Minneapolis and the suburbs outside of St. Paul, to Buffalo and then finally here to California.  We almost lost him in a truck stop about 2 hours outside of Chicago.  I was transferring the cats to the car because they were starting to get agitated in the moving van.  Winston panicked during the transfer, escaped the cat carrier, and ran through the lot.  I found him under a semi hiding in the tire well.  Thirty minutes later, both of us covered in dirt and axel grease, I had my cat.  I wasn't going to leave without him.

Buffalo, NY

Ferndale, CA - now an outdoor kitty at last...

I called him my "big brute" because he was such a large cat...

and because he would push Sofie out of the way to get the cat food

whenever they were fed.

At 16, he was still the "greeter" and came out to see everyone when they arrived, but his age was showing and he wasn't doing well.  We knew it was time to say good-bye.

A couple of days ago, I went looking for a spot.  I picked out a place just off a grove of pine trees.  It's at the top of a hill leading up from our house.   I call the area "Nori's Grove" after a friend who died.  I have memories of her coming out of the trees carrying an armful of mushrooms.  So it's named after her.

Yesterday, I climbed onto the tractor and learned to use the back hoe.  There's something cathartic about digging a grave.  It gave me an outlet for my grief while creating the place for Winston.

I know even my husband got kinda misty while we dug.

This afternoon I wrapped Winston in one of Momma's soft blankets and together my husband and I carried him up the hill.  Despite his recent illness and weight loss, I couldn't believe how heavy his body still felt.  Even in death, he was still my big brute.

We set two log stumps on top after flattening out the dirt.  My husband is going to take one of the planed boards he has and is going to make a bench.  I'm going to make a marker with a cross with Winston Churchill's name on it.  We joked about using some of the cat food cans that he loved and making a sculpture or art piece of some kind.  We'll see what I end up doing, but 

I love that it can be a place for rest and quiet reflection.

Winston has crossed that Rainbow Bridge where 

I'm sure he was met by Lacey who died last year.

I can only hope 

I gave him a good kitty life.

Winston Churchill

March 2003 - August 2019

Birthday Month Shuffle - 7th Edition Day 31

"Ay ay, ay ay" basically pronounced "eye eye, eye eye..."

Funny how I still hear it in those quiet moments

where it sneaks up on me unexpectedly.

My mother was having periods of delirium during those last days in the hospital.

Basically, "ay" in Spanish is like "ow" in English.

We would ask her if she was in pain.

We would ask her if she needed something.

We would ask and all she would respond is

"Ay ay ay" over and over.

On that last evening that she was in the hospital ICU,

I sat down next to her and tried to calm her as she seemed to be

getting more anxious and agitated.

It's one of those situations where you don't know what to do

or what to say and her continuous cries of "ay ay"

were starting to drive me a little crazy.

Finally, on another one of those "ay ay ay" spells,

I leaned over and softly sang back, "Ay ay ay ay, canta y no llores"

which literally translates to "sing and don't cry."

She stopped for a moment, and then started to say "ay ay" again,

but this time I joined in to start singing again,

and she started to sing along with me...

It's a song most Mexican kids learn at some point.

I've known this song since forever.

And, now, it's the song that reflects the last time I sang with my mother,

and the song she was buried to.

I had asked a school friend who sings beautifully to sing at her burial ceremony,

and I brought up this song.

She wasn't sure about the timing, and she sang the other two songs

I had chosen so beautifully, that I didn't even think we needed this song.

But then, as the lift with my mother's casket was raising up to the height

of her mausoleum space, my friend's beautiful voice started in with

"Ay ay ay ay"

and she sang the song as the casket was placed within the tomb 

and the workers settled and sealed the marble slab front.
Her timing was perfect.
Sing and don't cry.

The song technically is a love song,

but for me it's now a song of my childhood and my culture

and a final tender moment shared with my mother
during her last moments as I tried to calm her fears.
Maybe she knew then what I wasn't allowing myself to think...
that she would be dead within a few days.

The translation:

Ay ay ay ay

Sing and don't cry

Because by singing you make happy,

lovely Heaven, the hearts

From the sierra, dark

lovely Heaven, are coming down

a pair of dark eyes, lovely Heaven

smuggled in

That birthmark you have, lovely Heaven,

near your mouth

don't give it to anyone else

it belongs to me

Thank you, again, for joining me this month

as I celebrate another birthday month!

I promise to try to write more...