Saturday, March 27, 2010
The last time I wrote, our cat, Buddy, was pregnant. She began delivering her kittens on March 24 @ 3 p.m. and had four of them! Two are solid black, like the father, and two are black-and-white, like her. It has been the most amazing thing, watching her give birth, watching her clean and nurse those kittens, and watching her turn into a real mother.
Plenty of people have asked why we have a momma cat named "Buddy." Well, here is the story. She showed up here last fall, skinny, scared, and we took her on. Before she would trust me enough to flip her behind up to see what her gender was, I took to calling her Buddy. It seemed to fit, because she was our little buddy, following us to the barn, getting comfortable around the horses, and becoming part of the family. Eventually, when the weather turned cold, we fixed up an area on the screened porch and made her comfortable. Because of our allergies, she couldn't come in, but we have done right by her. When we discovered she was a girl, she was already answering to her name. Kristy McNichol made the character of "Buddy" famous on the old TV series, "Family", so we figured the name was a good one.
So much has happened. Spring has sprung with the arrival of these kittens! Hope is blooming anew. The green shoots of Easter lilies are jutting from the ground.
A couple of days ago, we saw a beaver swimming around in our pond, and then last night, an opossum crawled across the porch and started eating the cat food we left out for "The Dark Knight" (the father of the babies). I went out onto the porch, and it crawled up into the bare, silver wisteria vines that are draped across a pergola by the front porch. It simply sat there looking at me with its nearly-blind eyes while I tried to hurry and switch into camera mode on my BlackBerry. I missed the picture, but it was fascinating to see yet another of God's creatures creeping along in the night.
We panicked a little then, thinking about the opossum possibly trying to get onto the porch to eat the little newborns. The screen door was shut and latched, and two adult cats are out there with the newborns (Buddy and Sushi, the female I brought with me). Chances are slim that an opossum could get in there and survive the onslaught of two adult cats, but we were still scared.
And then the Dark Knight showed up. He came up hungry and wanting the dinner the opossum had eaten. I put out more cat food and water, and he ate and kept watch around the porch. We knew he wouldn't let anything happen to his babies, so we were able to finally calm down and go to bed around 1 a.m.
It's just a week away from the anniversary of Stephanie's death, but there is hope in me that I can survive it all. Therapy is helping and being able to talk, cry, and feel my emotions is healing. I miss her terribly. There is no way to describe just how much I miss her, but I know that I will survive this. I'm going to spend those few days with my son, which is as it should be, and I'm planning to get a memorial tattoo on my shoulder on the anniversary of the day she died. I will put up a picture after it's all over.
Wish me well.
Peace - D