A Kitten Named Ella

Ella, June 2011

One Friday afternoon last June, my Awesome Husband Greg went out to get the mail from the box. He thought he saw a squirrel sitting in the middle of the road. But he was wrong...What he saw was a tiny gray kitten, sitting in the center of the road, right between the two yellow lines.

Bravely risking life and limb, he stopped traffic with his one free hand (his other clutching our granddaughter, Charlie, whose life he was also risking).

Ella, August 2011


...So I had written exactly one year ago today -- August 31, 2011, the day I decided to write about how we acquired Ella, the hapless little kitten. But somehow (the usual way, I suppose) I got distracted and never finished.

We still have Ella, who was really only hapless for a short time. That would be the time between whenever she was born, and that day last June when Greg rescued her from the middle of the road in front of our house. Since then, I guess you could say she's been very hap. She found Greg.

Ella today, in one of her favorite poses. (I'm afraid she'd have to suck it in a little to fit in that window now.)


I didn't really want another cat. Greg tried to pretend he didn't, either. We made a few phone calls, "advertised" on facebook that we had found a kitten and would keep her for the weekend if anyone wanted her. I guess we were implying that if no one did, it was off to the pound (gasp!) on Monday. But I know us. We'd never do that.

Even so, we did still have this girl...

Cinder, the Big Orange Cat

Cinder is 16 years old now. I, never really a cat lover, love this cat. Greg adores this cat. We almost lost her a couple of years ago, and I had a glimpse of how painful that loss was going to be -- for everyone. So when I saw how Greg held and fussed over that bedraggled little gray ball of fluff, I knew from that first afternoon that she was ours. He'll try to tell you that I convinced him to keep her, but I didn't. I simply got out of his way.

I will admit to having some regrets...

The reason I love Cinder is that she's really a dog who looks like a cat. She comes when you call her. She hangs around and socializes when company comes. She doesn't indulge in displeasing cat-like behaviors, like clawing the furniture or leaping onto tables and bookcases. She lets us use her as a pillow or a blanket -- sometimes even a mattress. She's generally very nice to have around.

I had forgotten what real kittens are like. Ella was a real kitten. And she's a real cat. Last Christmas, I relented to putting up a tree, against my better judgment -- fortunately, it remained standing, although a few ornaments took a topple -- but I refused to bring out my "good" red slipcover and quilts. I can think of few things more unnerving than the sound of a cat's claws plucking at fibers.

(I don't like the smell of their food, or their poop either, but that doesn't have to be part of this story.)

A year later, Ella is very different from that shy, grungy, runny-eyed, bug-infested little mite she was last year -- the one who would fall asleep in a Kleenex box on the back of the toilet. She's minus most of her tail, which we have logically deduced must have been run over when she parked it in the middle of the road. (After we'd had her a few days, it atrophied and began losing its fur.) But her coat is like beautifully striped velvet.


She's the kind of cat you want to hold. But you can't. She'll lie on her back at your feet and wriggle around enticingly, but don't fall for it -- she only wants you to reach for her so she can take a swipe. It's all part of her game.

Guests rarely see Ella. She prefers to hang out in the office in a box of stationery whenever anyone besides family is present.

Oh -- And did I mention that she's relentless in tormenting poor Cinder?

Yes, I knew there would be a transition period as our "girls" got used to each other, but how delusional was I to have imagined that Cinder would one day be glad that we'd brought her a young companion? What was I thinking? It's gone from bad to worse, with Ella becoming fearless of Cinder's hissing and boxing. She lies in wait, ready to jump on the old girl every chance she gets. Poor Cinder now pauses in doorways, afraid to walk into a room for fear of being ambushed -- something she shouldn't have to endure in her golden years. Cinder, I am so sorry...

So I'm having difficulty finding things to love about Ella -- except for her striking good looks. But she's here to stay. Greg has plenty of room in his heart for a cat like Ella. Just like he did for Cinder. And probably as many more as he might be allowed to have, but we're not even going to go there.

I'm just glad he consented to her name (suggested by dear facebook friend, Patricia Thomas Blevins). You did you pick up on that, didn't you? Cinder...Ella? (Greg had wanted to call her R.K., short for Road Kill. Glad he let me win that one!)

Bookend

"The Intimate Book Group," l-r: Frances Moore, Mary Elizabeth Keister and Marilyn Brenneman, May 2009 (Kate's LRDC)

Today, I attended a Celebration of Life. A very long life. A life well lived. My friend, Mary Elizabeth Keister, was 99 years old when she died earlier this month.

Mary Elizabeth and I were the "bookends" of our little reading group -- the last two members living in Greensboro. We had been a group of four. Four friends who enjoyed referring to ourselves as the "Intimate Book Group" (The Book Group, June 23, 2009). Frances Moore died in 2009 (Remembering Frances, September 17, 2009), and Marilyn Brenneman moved to Colorado a year later to be with her daughter.

Although Mary Elizabeth's eyesight didn't allow her to read even large-print books in her last years, she had such a vast knowledge of, and love for, literature, that she would never be at a loss in any discussion of books and authors. (4/20 -- If Yesterday Was Your Birthday, April 20, 2009).

In fact, I'm sure Mary Elizabeth never found herself at a loss in any conversation.

Although I've know her for years, because my friend was such a humble person, and because she always graciously accommodated my propensity to ramble on about books I've read -- well, about everything -- I never really grasped the scope of her contribution to the world. I read her brief biography on the back of the program today with a lump in my throat, realizing how privileged I'd been that she had considered me a friend. (Oh, to think that sometimes I would have preferred to stay in bed on a Saturday morning -- what I would have missed!)

Dr. (I don't think I was even aware of her title) Keister had a love of children, beginning with her baby sister, that led her to several degrees and a career in child welfare, preschool education and improving programs at women's colleges throughout the world, taking her to India, Rome (with the United Nations), Nigeria, Afghanistan, to name a few places.

She never married or had children of her own, but loved and influenced her 11 nieces and nephews, one of whom spoke so lovingly about her Aunt "Bubba" today, it made my heart ache.

I will always regret that the last time Mary Elizabeth and I got together for McDonald's cinnamon rolls (a guilty pleasure that we only indulged at our monthly get-togethers), coffee and conversation a few months ago was the last time I saw her. She went into hospice care several weeks later, and I learned of her passing the day I called to make arrangements to visit her. I had downloaded "Little Bee" on my Kindle, and was planning to read it to her. That book will serve as my reminder to never put off doing a kindness for someone. Mary Elizabeth never would have.

Bookends no more. I exchanged e-mail messages with Marilyn earlier today, and it seems that we both feel the same way...Our Intimate Book Group was so special, we can't imagine getting involved with other groups. We were special, and I am so thankful for the time we had to be together. And now I am just a single bookend.