Back in grad school, I took this poetry class with Lesley Ullman, a great poet. A student in her class read a poem one night. It was about the student's cat, her beloved cat who through a freak accident jumped out of a moving car. The woman had a serious line in the poem which read, " Go to the light! Go to the light!" and then had written some pretty substantial lines after that but at our end of the table we were about to lose it with laughter. Lesley gave us a stern look but it was agonizing to refrain and I'm sure it showed on my face. Fits of hilarity.
Yet now, I have to tell my kittie to go toward the light and I envy the student poet. At least her cat was stupid and jumped. Mine has bone cancer. Our handsome cat, Oscar, is going to his resting place on Wednesday.
Russell, the bulked up little cow of a cat, walks around Oscar, our sick baby. Once skinny and on edge, Russell has learned to lolligag, to give loud noises a looksee first, and maybe, maybe remove himself from whatever trauma is brewing. Oscar is "the handsome boy," and his looks and brains are phenomenal. I mean, he lets the girls hug him. He hugs them! Wraps his bottom legs around their waists, his front paws about their necks and just hangs with them. He will not hug me and if he does it's for a few clawing seconds before he jumps away.
"Oh Mom, he's your little man," Leila says to me when I tell her of the biopsy.
So I will start the mourning and rejoicing tonight. I will. In honor of him and in order for me to get over him not being here anymore giving the girls those hugs. I hope he goes to Ed or my Dad. To Milly. Or MaKaye who probably has Barney with her right now.
God help Barney. Oscar's going to whallop him.
No comments:
Post a Comment