Читать книгу Every Cat Has A Story: True Stories Exploring the Spiritual Connection of Felines with Their Beloved Owners - Jasmine Kinnear - Страница 17
Оглавление- by Sande Kay
Women, poets, and especially artists, like cats; delicate natures only can realize their sensitive systems.- Helen M. Winslow
In 1978, while living in Rhode Island, I was introduced to what was then a rare and dying breed: Maine Coons. The female I met was so wonderful, friendly, large and personable I decided then and there that ‘some day’ one of those large wonderful cats was going to share my life. Well, my ‘some day’ did not come for another 20 years! I continued to learn all that I could about the breed and communicate with the original breeder during those long years. Twenty years later when I finally finished my youthful travel, I happened upon a Maine Coon breeder in my area. She had just had a litter of kittens (two!) and asked me if I was interested in visiting. She told me the kittens were not available, as she was going to keep both, but I could visit. And visit I did! Several times.
At about four weeks, the little male decided that I was a good substitution for his littermate. I did not know it at the time, but we were bonding; there was a magic between us, a spark. Luckily, the breeder was aware of this and she agreed that I could actually have this kitten! The day this breeder brought him to my house for his first ‘visit’ he curled up in my lap and purred. When it was time to go (it was only a visit), he dug his claws in and hung on to my jeans for dear life. Though he was only ten weeks old, she let me keep him then and there. She said, “He has made his choice.”
And I did feel chosen! For the next ten years True (that was his name) sat with me, ate with me, slept on my papers when I was trying to work and hid my paintbrushes while I painted. He was the cat of my heart. When I experienced massive self doubt as I began to show my paintings professionally, he stayed near me in my studio every day while I painted. He actually posed for his own painting and wouldn't let me quit. He would vocalize if I didn't go into the studio to paint. I have photos of his furry self posing for his painting on my studio table. More than anyone else in those first years, he encouraged me to keep going, keep painting. I know it sounds odd, but you try to ignore a 25-pound cat who is wrapping himself around your ankles, gently herding you toward the studio. It is rather impossible. His quiet persistent presence while I painted was exactly what I needed to continue.
During the recent tainted pet food epidemic, he developed Liver Failure in response to tainted pet food he ate. We both fought our hardest. He was fed lovingly by tube every hour for almost three months. In the end, I had to let him go. He was so sick. True crawled up onto my lap and spent his last hours there. Just as he had entered my life, he exited in the same manner. I miss him still. We both tried, and even though I am supposed to be the one ‘in charge,’ in the end I could not save him. Letting him go was the toughest decision I ever made. I question myself every day about what I should have done differently. I miss all 25 pounds of him sitting on my lap. Although he never went to a cat show, he was the cat of my heart and my True Champion.
True in his garden ‘helping’ Sande write her dissertation
May you leave this life knowing you were well loved; May your steps away from me bring us closer in heart; And May you walk, my friend, Freely, In Peace
True (aka King True)
Born October 12, 1997 - Died April 20, 2007
You will always be my bunny-furred boy.
