May 9, 2009
Jocasta couldn’t climb to her place on my thigh last night. In the morning I let her out into the yard, so that if she had some favorite places she could revisit them. She tried, but in the end sat on a stone and quivered. I took a few photos, in which she is all green eyes, the one part of her still ablaze. I lifted her up and held her for a long time. Only then did she stop howling. Then I took her to the vet and they eased her into sleep. Jocasta has been my faithful companion for nineteen years. I buried her and planted mallow over her. Of course now I hide in the house until I can stop sobbing. I have wondered before, and it still amazes me, how those who have lost a child can go on, or why they wish to.
GD’s birthday celebration at Frankie’s Bones last night.
Went to the new Star Trek movie (which was sensational) with a clutch of friends. Came home and counted the cats, wondering if maybe things had healed themselves in the last hours. No. Jocasta the cat had been scrambling to meet me at the door for 1/3 of my life.
I found the first mention of her in my journals:
October 3, 1990
Drove to the Buncombe County Animal Shelter and got a dark calico kitten whom I have named Jocasta. She is black and chestnut flecked with gold. Far from the prettiest animal there, I chose her because when I came to the cage she greeted me with the most joy. She has spent her time patrolling the house and getting underfoot. Now she is gravely stalking a volume of Ovid.
No comments:
Post a Comment