Sunday, March 17, 2013

Sunday Serenity #328


Remembering My

Our Abyssinian/Siamese/Tabby Gremlyn passed on the Sunday following St. Paddy Day in 2007 and it was in her honor that I started these Sunday Serenity posts so that Sunday could be something besides a reminder of loosing her again.  So today I'm recycling the list of 13 things I wanted to remember about her from a Thursday Thirteen post a year after her death and adding to it.

1. The way she rode on my shoulder from a tiny kitten to the last week of her life.  She could stay put as I vacuumed, washed dishes, typed, worked needlepoint, did gentle mini-tramp workouts, played computer games, folded laundry, read, watched TV played card games with Ed.
2. The way she would groom the tears off my eyelids and cheeks.
3. The many 'conversations' we had that would go on for as long as I replied for she always had the last word.
4. The way she slept in my lap while I read or sewed or wrote or...see all sit down activities in #1.
5. The way she kept us in stitches with her antics chasing shadows and dust motes if there was nothing more substantial; literally climbing the walls and launching herself into backflips off them.
6. Finding her asleep in the salad bowl on the second shelf up above the kitchen counter. More than once. (Tho I'd rather not remember having to wash every last dish on those two shelves each time.)
7. Having her land on my head or shoulder as I passed through a door or by the fridge or mantle or the living room drapes.
8. Having her purr next to my ear as I'm falling asleep.
9. The weight of her curled in a ball on my hip, or chest as I slept.
10. The way she would climb a door and ride it back and forth as she pushed against one wall and then the other until that moment she miscalculated and didn't get her front paws back under her in time so that her belly was arched over the abyss as she howled. And how if her front paws happened to be on the top of the doorway she would hang from the molding screaming until rescued but if she had just pushed off against the wall and did not jump down before the door closed then her hind paws would be shoved off as the door closed and she would fall and if she had trapped herself in the room would howl and scream until rescued.
11. Having her snuggled inside my fleece jacket or windbreaker with its bottom tied off to prevent her from slipping out and its front zipped up but not far enough to keep her from poking her head out at will. She would stay there for hours as I typed at the computer or as I paced up and down the driveway or as I did laundry, dishes or housework or sat on the front steps reading.
12. The way she would put a paw on my face to turn my head to face her so she could 'tell' me something. Occasionally the 'telling' was emphasized by a nip on the nose.
13.  How I once found a strand of embroidery floss trailing out from under her tail and tugged on it and tugged on it and tugged on it until a full 18 inches of thread with the tapestry needle still attached came free.
14. The way she always knew when I was in distress.  Even when I wasn't home.  Like the night I crashed on a cement roller rink in a town 40 miles away and she went berserk at home chasing the windows and hanging off the front door handle howling and would not be comforted.
15.  The way she constantly escaped the  house by clawing through window screens.  Even the one six feet above the bathroom tub.  It took us a long time to figure out how she did that.  Her route: floor to toilet tank to towel rack to shower curtain rod to four inch deep by four inch tall window inset.
16. How tiny she was.  Even full grown she was smaller than our Merlin when we got him at the shelter at 6 months.
17. How she snuck food off my plate.  I think she knew I couldn't see from the side.  She would seem completely relaxed and uncaring and suddenly one paw zipped out with one claw extended and grabbed.
18.  The way she sounded like an old typewriter talking to the birds out the window
19.  The way she treated Ed's dirty socks like her paramour.
20.  How she boxed the vacuum cleaner, the vibrator, and the electric razor into submission when they were turned on or how she would approach them when they were off as tho they were cobras, prowling a circle around it, tail big, belly on floor, hissing, growling.  Until one of us would turn it on so she could knock it silly umn silent. We called her our adrenaline junkie.  She sought out occasions to get hyped up.
21.  How she and her sister Shekinah once teamed up to herd my parent's Chow Tia across the living room and into the corner by the front door which was closed so she climbed over Ed in his chair trying to get out the closed window behind him.
22.  The way she talked to her food.
23.  The way she came running when I clicked my tongue.
24. How she would never tolerate a closed door between us.  Not even the bathroom.  Not even the shower door.
25.  Her funny face.  Or faces.  She had as many expressions as humans.  And I could read them better than I could most humans except maybe babies.

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