originally published on Painting a Dog a Day, November 25th, 2007. Also reprinted in the book "Painting a Dog a Day - the First Year," published in December 2008.
I spent the bulk of Thanksgiving day trying to remind myself how blessed my family is in so many ways, but it was so very difficult, because it was also Turtle's last day.
Turtledove was a rescued kitty Rick and I adopted shortly after we got married and moved cross-country to California (oh so many years ago). Scarred with cigarette burns and nameless other hurts, she was understandably fearful of strangers, but oddly trusted the two of us unconditionally right from the start. We chose her as a companion for our spoiled black cat, Miah, who was alone for the first time in her short life all day long.
Turtle befriended Miah, and wormed her way into everyone else's hearts too. She became my muse right from the start, and then the studio's namesake years later.
We buried her underneath the maple tree, the one that shelters our home, stretching far beyond the roof's confines into the sky. In the spring I will plant a bed of catnip overtop her grave, and carve something fitting into the smooth round stone that marks where her head lays.
We spent Friday setting up the Christmas tree, telling the kids stories of a younger cat who loved to climb and hide amongst the branches. When the kids were infants, she slept underneath their crib, coming to wake me moments before their cries did. Every full moon, she would hunt monsters, racing up and down the stairs all night long (Domenic remembers hearing her going up and down, up and down, up and down). I could count on her freight train purr to lull me to sleep every night without fail (Anna knows that same purr from when we would read bedtime stories together). Evan found her favorite toy, a spikey little rubber ball, under the couch - we laughed when we remembered the odd growls she would make as she carried that around the house.
I realized when I came downstairs Saturday morning that the garland strung on the lower half of the tree will stay put for the first time ever.
And there will be no more gifts left at the foot of my easel, either.
What a blessing it is to have loved something so simple so strongly.
Hug your kitties and your dogs and your family - they are all gifts, whether we have them for a fleeting moment or for what seems like an eternity.
Turtledove was a rescued kitty Rick and I adopted shortly after we got married and moved cross-country to California (oh so many years ago). Scarred with cigarette burns and nameless other hurts, she was understandably fearful of strangers, but oddly trusted the two of us unconditionally right from the start. We chose her as a companion for our spoiled black cat, Miah, who was alone for the first time in her short life all day long.
Turtle befriended Miah, and wormed her way into everyone else's hearts too. She became my muse right from the start, and then the studio's namesake years later.
We buried her underneath the maple tree, the one that shelters our home, stretching far beyond the roof's confines into the sky. In the spring I will plant a bed of catnip overtop her grave, and carve something fitting into the smooth round stone that marks where her head lays.
We spent Friday setting up the Christmas tree, telling the kids stories of a younger cat who loved to climb and hide amongst the branches. When the kids were infants, she slept underneath their crib, coming to wake me moments before their cries did. Every full moon, she would hunt monsters, racing up and down the stairs all night long (Domenic remembers hearing her going up and down, up and down, up and down). I could count on her freight train purr to lull me to sleep every night without fail (Anna knows that same purr from when we would read bedtime stories together). Evan found her favorite toy, a spikey little rubber ball, under the couch - we laughed when we remembered the odd growls she would make as she carried that around the house.
I realized when I came downstairs Saturday morning that the garland strung on the lower half of the tree will stay put for the first time ever.
And there will be no more gifts left at the foot of my easel, either.
What a blessing it is to have loved something so simple so strongly.
Hug your kitties and your dogs and your family - they are all gifts, whether we have them for a fleeting moment or for what seems like an eternity.
Very nice Kim...we have 5 small cat graves out front of our house. The 5 we brought 10 years ago from NH. We miss them.
ReplyDeleteKathy Sebring: Kim, you brought tears to my eyes as I was reading about Turtledove; and thinking about my beloved Kizzy...it has been five years since I lost her and she is forever in my heart. She is in a sunny spot in our front yard with a kitty statue near her; it is amazing how much a little bit of a kitten grabs your heart and no matter what kind of day you may have had, they were always there to greet you and let you know it will be alright. I am glad to know that we share the special love that a special kitty bestowed on us; we are the lucky ones' to have been blessed to have found such wonderful love and devotion. Thanks for sharing and will be sending in my dedication to my beloved Kizzy. Hugs, Kathy
ReplyDeleteat our vet office, we love remarking on on the various calico kitty "paint jobs". turtledove was blessed with excellent markings, such a perfect blend of tan & black against the white, she was such a lucky girl to have both on her precious nose. i feel like kitties who share colours on their noses are just born to share - whether it be gifts at the easel, pillows, or love. sounds like she did it all.
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