Cisco

    I have been blessed with a husband who likes cats as much as dogs, such men are rare.  We have been blessed with two wonderful cats we have, however, actually had four cats.  Perhaps significant is that both of the unwonderful (underful?) cats are females.  A cat loving friend (ironically named Tom) told us that females are like this because they have an instinct to keep their distance during kitten bearing years when humans, other cats etc. are viewed as a threat.  Our cats are spayed but their instincts probably don't know this. "I'm groomed, I'm willing but nobody asks me out."  Standoffishness is certainly true of Sola, our current underful cat.  We got her from a... (What is the term for a bunch of cats?  It is a pride of lions. I'll call it ...) "scrounge" of feral cats that my sister feeds.
     She was the only cat in her litter, hence the name. Later we suspected she killed off her siblings.  Fortunately Sola doesn't look like her country cousins who seem to be the cat version of dingoes with short bodies and wedge shaped heads. Some of them don't even shed like normal cats, they molt. Sola spends a lot of her time sleeping at the foot of our bed close to, but not on, the blanket I put there as a sacrifice to the cat hair demon.  Somehow she recognized the ploy.  Under the right conditions Sola will tolerate being petted and through the years is becoming friendlier but she has one potentially lethal (to her) characteristic, she meows with the loud insistence of a starving kitten.  It is a not a Siamese yowl, but it is a demand nonetheless. Since she is five years old, I have given up hoping she will out grow it.  Yes, we pay attention when she meows, but it makes us want to hurt her.  Underful.
     Our former underful cat is the one we got our daughter for her seventh birthday; somehow she forgot to take Annie with her when she married even though we offered to mail her.  Annie lived to be 19 1/2, long enough to outgrow her diffidence and, like the aged both human and animal, began to crave being touched.  The decision of when to put her down when her health failed was one of the hardest we have ever made.  Maybe we will feel the same about Sola someday.
     Our current wonderful cat is Maynard.  Maynard is at one with the universe, to the point of seeming stoned.  He likes everybody and everything and is quite confident that everybody likes him.  But before Maynard we had Cisco.  Cisco had a white and orange coat as soft as rabbit fur.  Unfortunately it seemed to maintain its soft texture by renewing itself through perpetual shedding.  Also perpetually renewed was his need to nurse.  For years Cisco sucked on earlobes, knuckles and any other loose bit of skin he was allowed to. He loved to be outside because he loved to be terrified.  We'd see him racing from bush to bush to escape the perilous wind, leaves, bugs etc., then he would come in the house with his tail poofed four inches in diameter.  Cisco drooled.  He would crawl up on our stomach or side when we were lying down, kneading his paws up and down, smacking his lips contentedly and drooling.  The endearing factor outweighed the gross factor.  Not many people have someone who loves them to the point of drooling.
     Cisco died unexpectedly at the age of 13 under anesthesia while getting his teeth cleaned, one of those complications you read about but never expect to happen. Reed came home from work early that day, as much for his own sake as for ours. We wrapped Cisco in the rug he always slept on and buried him under his favorite bush in the backyard.  I miss him to this day.  What I still have with me are the memories and the lessons I learned from Cisco.  Lesson one:  Love with abandon, crawl up in God's lap. God would rather have our clumsy love than dignified indifference.  Lesson two:  Exude contentment--drool if you must.  Lesson three: Live with abandon.  Ordinary events can be an adventure if you choose to see them that way.  Lesson four:  Part of the adventure is doing things that scare you.  And the final and hardest lesson I learned from Cisco's death, it is to trust the mysterious sovereignty of God.  God's eye is on the sparrow, but sparrows still die, and it is all part of His care and keeping of the planet and His beautiful, inscrutable plan for us.