2005 has been a year to remember. A good year all in all, but one that has marked a number of transitions. Unfortunate as it is, we have experienced yet another passing. I look over some of the posts I’ve made here and almost think of renaming this RL’s Grieving Blog (jokingly), but that only tells part of the story.
My first pet, I mean my own first pet, the one for whom I was solely responsible, was my golden retriever Lester. That was the animal that really touched peoples’ lives, my own and many others. He didn’t exactly touch everyone in the right way, but that’s another story.
Lester was mellowing in his years, it was 1990 and he was about six at the time. Mary Ann and I had lived together for about a year, I was so blinded by love that I agreed to let her bring a long one of the cats from Snowball’s litter to live with us. All the kittens at Mary Ann’s parents’ home had been snatched up or given away, leaving the last two, Max and Callie. We ended up with Callie, I was OK with one but not both. Callie had an annoying habit of kneading. She would jump up on your lap and sit quietly for about a minute. As soon as the warmth transferred comfortably from her own body to your lap or stomach, she’d start to gently knead her paws into you. It was kind of cool, almost a sign that she felt comfortable enough to do this. But gradually, paw stroke by paw stroke, the claws emerged from beneath the fur and you were soon her personal scratching post. Shortly thereafter, Callie would fly from my lap, often propelled by yours truly. I believe that cats do this instinctively to stimulate milk from their mother’s nipples. Was this a sign that Callie didn’t breast feed enough as a kitten?
Mary Ann had always maintained that you can’t just have one cat (a claim I later found to be completely baseless), and had worked on me from the beginning to take in a companion, perhaps to ease Callie’s neurosis. Up came a situation where a negotiation was called for, and to this day I can’t imagine what I stood to gain from it. She agreed to something from which I might have benefited, my concession to her was that we could get a kitten from the pound to keep Callie company. Even though I have no idea what she agreed to, I’m quite sure I never received it. But soon enough, there I was, looking into the cage that held the one cat with the tiniest meow. Out of all the cats we saw, this tabby was clearly the cutest. I was soon won over, even though he wouldn’t have been my own first choice. I had my eye on this big fat gray striped male with green eyes. I wanted a big lazy cat that sat like a lump in the corner, maybe taking the occasional swipe at Callie.
It was October, and while his orange markings bore a resemblance to the color of pumpkins, he became Jake, derivative of jack o’lantern.
Jake and Callie ruled the roost on Harrington Avenue, came with us and seemingly adjusted well when we moved to Rhoda. One of my favorite memories of Jake is from the lawn in the back yard. Lester was about eight years old and Jake was two, but a very naïve and protected two. The back yard was the dog’s domain, and God help the animal that should stray in there. One of Lester’s things (not really a trick) was to hold up a treat and make him refrain from eating it until you gave him the OK. It was a similar situation when Mary Ann brought Jake out to say hello one day, and fortunately, the image was captured on film. (I’ll post it as soon as I find it.) Jake, cautious, yet curious about this hulking animal sitting on the grass opposite him, sniffing the air in front of Lester’s nose. Lester, sitting patiently, drooling as though being tempted with a Milkbone, as if waiting for me to give him the go ahead to lunge.
Callie disappeared right when we were about to move into our current residence in ’95, I had Lester put down within about a year. His size and his age had left his mobility severely limited, this wasn’t the way I wanted to remember him. Jake became the one family pet, the survivor of all these years.
Jake now rests quietly in a corner of the yard. The kids helped me bury him, we poured a concrete slab yesterday and embedded decorative rock in the surface, spelling out his name.