Departed - Thelma

I started the morning at 6:30am, with a cold rainy drive to the crowded airport to drop off the boyfriend. Also, it’s the one year anniversary of my late kitty Muppy’s death. . . so it’s just not shaping up to be that good a day.

I have several emotions churning a year later, beyond the obvious sadness. There are many pleasant memories, the puzzlement of where did those 15 years disappear to, even relief that the end was relatively fast. And guilt – because my Montana, whom I still call the new cat, has nosed his big sweet self pretty far into my psyche.

For a long time he was like a big friendly interloper, despite his attempts to win me over. But I realize in talking to others that he has done just that. Where I first complained about his obsession with kneading my hair and neck and sleeping head to head, now I rationalize it. Tell him he’s a good boy as he gazes adoringly into my eyes, and mean it. And then feel remorse pangs about no longer so much missing, starting to not even remember, all those things about my Muppy.

Which brings me to Thelma. It’s pretty slow at the shelter, which is good because I’m pretty tired, and just bonding with the cats is my speed today. Thelma’s a perky 7 year old brown tabby/calico, with neat stripes that vary in color; she’s long legged, alert and playful. She reminds me in both looks and personality of C.R., a precious cat I lived with for a couple years in the ‘80s.

My former roommate told me C.R. wandered around crying every night after I first moved out of the shared flat. I missed her terribly, and looked forward to updates and occasional visits. But time passed and more time passed, and suddenly those decade or two feline life spans seem cruel and unfair. So many dear little ones, gone and slowly being forgotten.

Thelma’s antics, batting for my attention as I sit spacing out, and Morrison’s plaintive meows from across the corridor, bring me back to the present. "Hey, we’re here now…"