scratchings

Mom and Dad 1982 Long Island Ferry

09/12/2003

My Mom

My Mom was born in 1910. She turned 93 this year. She tells me she has lived too long.
Not depressed, just weary, I suppose. Still, she seems happy to be a part of our lives, cuddling the kittens and laughing at their silly antics or comical sleeping postures, talking to daughters and grandchildren on the phone, reading their letters, reading the daily newspaper literally from cover to cover. There's not much happiness in the news these days, she says.
She is willing to be as flexible as she can to make our life easier...going on senseless shopping jaunts, road trips, grocery/post office runs. She watches the parade of life while she waits for us to do whatever it is we've decided to do sitting in cars, waiting rooms, restaurants, friends living rooms.
I feel she has reached the point where she can only enjoy vicariously through us the things she used to do. She says she feels just like she could get right up and walk over to the garden and start weeding or planting. Of course she can't do this anymore. Her little brittle bones have enough work to do just carrying her 90 lb body while she walks with me from the bed to various chairs and back again. Thank goodness for her wheelchair.
Our excursions last usually less than a couple of hours at a time, as she takes a lot of naps. She tells me she sometimes dreams of when she was a child. She is the last. All her sisters and girlfriends and her husband (my Dad) have died . I can't begin to imagine how that feels.
She traveled with her mother and sister on the steamship Coronia from England where she was born to Ellis Island in 1913. She even remembers that her mother was seasick the entire way.
My Mom has lived through the inventions of the car, electricity and telephones in the home, TV, public air travel, computers, the internet. It's amazing.
She recounts stories of her past. Sometimes she forgets. Whatever happened to so and so? What became of my house in Stratford? Did you ever meet Chick (my Dad)?
I love my Mom. When she goes I will have lost my best friend. Who else to give me unconditional love.? Who else to praise me for even the most trivial accomplishments? Who else to understand my many faults. I understand the unconditional love I feel for my children for having been the recipient of hers.
Caring for my Mom as I do is a labor of love. It was an opportunity that was the answer to a prayer at a time in my life when my nursing job had just about taken all I had left. I wouldn't trade it for anything. My sisters sometimes feel bad that they have freedom to take vacations and spontaneous trips while I am rather restricted that way.
I say, I am the lucky one.

Things I learned from my Mom:

My practicality

My efficiency

My abililty for unconditional love

My dislike of cooking

My dislike of housework

My independance

My love for physical activity

My sympathy for the underdog

to be continued...

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04/11/2004

My Dad

My dad was born in 1909, one year before my mom. They married in 1933 and their first child, my sister Audrey was born three years later. They had Sharon another seven years after that, and me three years later.

My mom and dad were 36 and 37 when I was born and in those days, were the oldest parents of all my friends.

He was a professional commercial photographer.

Some of my earliest memories of him were at his studio when he would occasionaly allow me to come with him on a Saturday.

It was the early 1950s.

There were big cameras and backdrops and lights all over.

And always the smell of chemicals. I guess it was the developing fluids.

His big portrait camera was in the biggest of several rooms in the studio.

My dad would aim two or three big lights with umbrella-like reflectors at his subject.

Looking through the viewfinder everything looked upside down. He had to cover his head with a sort of tarp that fit around the back of the camera while he got everything just right.

Then he would make so many adjustments to his camera and the subject before he would finally be ready to shoot.

Hed look up and come around to the front of the big camera and say something like How about a nice smile?

Hed sometimes make jokes or laugh to get a natural relaxed facial expression on his subject.

He didnt push a button, though.he just took the lens cap off manually for a second and then replaced it. He knew just the right amount of time to expose the film.

The film looked much like X ray cassettes that slid in and out of grooves in the back of the camera. He would change the cassettes for each picture.

One of my favorite places to go was the darkroom.

My dad would bring me in while the lights were on and sit me on a stool in the corner. I wasnt allowed to get up or touch anything.

Then he would turn off all the lights. It was the blackest dark I could ever imagine. I could hear him fiddling with stuff and the sound of swishing liquid and paper being rustled. And of course that chemical smell.

Then he would turn on a dim red light that would flood the room. Everything would look very surreal and it was hard to see in this red light.. It was almost like a dream.

Then he would finish whatever it was that he did there and put the lights back on.

The pictures were hanging from a clothesline of sorts with little clips and they were dripping wet.

I thought photography was like magic from an early age.

I remember my dad working hard every day.

It was my dad, not so much my mom that would plan vacations and daytrips with the family. Picnics and barbeques were favorite activites.

We would bring a Coleman stove or light a wood fire in the picnic ground fireplace and have hamburgers and hot dogs, potato salad and coleslawall transported from home in this huge heavy metal camp cooler. The thing must have weighed 50 lbs.

My dad liked to have nice quiet relaxing daytrips or camping trips. He was born and raised in a big city (Providence) and as an adult much preferred country surroundings. He was an only child and I think that his childhood was not the happiest having a very strict dad and rather passive mom. We would visit my paternal grandparents in Bridgeport at least once a week, but it was only for about an hour at a time and it was rather stiff.

My dad would buy us ice cream cones on the way home from their house on weekends at the same little place each time. We could get Rainbow ice cream therethree flavors swirled together.you couldnt get this just anywhere. It was like a reward for doing the dutiful thing.

My dads favorite things were his car and baseball.

I remember helping my dad wash and wax his car all the time. It was his pride and joy. He would inspect it every night to see if anyone had opened a car door into the side or to see if any bugs had spattered on the windshield or grill. His favorite car was a yellow and white 1955 Chevy and it sparkled. He would be very proud to take us all out in it for a Sunday picnic.

He taught me a lot about baseball, too watching baseball, that is. We would throw and catch the ball in the yard, but I rarely played an actual game.

We were both serious Yankee fans. At that time, my heroes were Mickey Mantle, Whitey Ford and Yogi Barra. Of course Phil Rizzuto announced a lot of games. I was one of very few girls in my class at school that knew stats on baseball players. This is a hobby that fell by the wayside as I grew older.

Things I learned from my Dad:

My love of animals

My love of all things in nature

My love for creative art, especially photography

My sense of organization

My tendency to overindulge and love the extravagant…screw the cost, let's have fun.

My love of cars and driving…especially finding that slow curve of a back road.

My enjoyment of TV and respect for acting…the Oscars.

My discomfort around little children

My love of the American West and all things cowboy.

My love of Autumn…crisp air.

My dislike of humidity.

to be continued...

___________________________________________________________

07/27/2002

My Dexter

January 1987 was snowy. Woodbury Connecticut had already gotten heavy snowfalls and another several inches was expected that night.
The lady from the cat shelter called and asked if we could pick up our newly chosen baby early as she feared with more snow coming, she might have difficulty getting in to feed the residents and the babies shouldn't do without food for too long.
My son, Dan and I headed down from our home in Washington, CT to the old rundown colonial home on the hill in Woodbury where the old woman had set up her shelter for homeless stray cats.
We had been there about a week earlier and picked out the most beautiful little ball of gray fluff we had ever seen. His eyes were a baby blue and his ears stood up so huge it almost looked disproportionate. His gray fur was so fluffy he looked like a dandelion gone to seed, and his little tail stood up straight like a little pointer.
He and his sister were the two baby kittens available and coincidently, the female had been chosen that day as well by other adoptive 'parents'. They were still a bit too young to leave the shelter, so we made plans to return for him in a week.
Happily, we placed him in a box with a little towel and with our instructions and a list of local vets, we started our journey through life with our beautiful new friend, "Dexter".
We knew right away he would be special. He was so inquisitive and intelligent and his responses so quick and playful, we loved him like crazy. immediately. He was our first cat and we were very inexperienced about feline behavior. We would learn a world of knowledge from Dexter.
He would become the landlord of our home...we were merely tenants. Strangely enough, we enjoyed it.
So much we enjoyed his company, nearly two years later when another beautiful homeless kitten found his way into our world, our hearts would again melt.
"Jasper" would be the new little brother. Dexter was less than thrilled.
Immediately territories were marked and pecking order was established. It was good to be king.
Jasper seemed to accept his position in the family and although we loved each cat dearly, they seemed to merely tolerate each other. Not much affection between the two, but they were congenial.
Our cats have been a very important part of our lives. They were with me through thick and thin, so to speak. The heartaches of life were eased a little by the soft push of a nose on the side of my leg, or a brushing against of a little furry body to remind me I was not alone.
My son would grow up and move to Colorado leaving me so empty I thought my heart would break. My little furry ones were there to be my companions. (When you talk to your pets, you're really NOT talking to yourself).
Their love is unconditional and loyal.
Over the years I struggled through divorce, the death of my wonderful Dad, a hectic and stressful job, my Mom's leaving of her 50+ year homestead to come live with me.
It was my wonderful good fortune to have met my soulmate Lenny during the course of my life, and after he joined our little group he was immediately welcomed with open paws. He became a real buddy to the feline members of the family and loves them as dearly as Dan and I.
Dexter and Jasper had two distinct personalities. Dexter ran the show. He supervised, observed and was part of everything we did around the house. He insisted upon joining us in the bathroom and made his demands known by scratching the door...waiting usually til you were seated. Nothing would deter him until you got up and let him in. Then he would sit in front of you purring so loudly you couldn't help but cherish the thought that all he wanted was to be near you.
He loved to lick the shower when you were through...even though there was always his own water available.
In the garden he would curl up in the freshly dug hole I had created for a row of evergreens. He would nibble on the oatgrass and catnip. He would sit unafraid on the ladder of our swimming pool lapping up the water... oblivious to the 8 foot depth just below him.
When friends would come to visit, if they left the windows down in their car, when they returned to their car to leave, so often there would be Dexter sitting on the seat, ready to go for a ride.
Two years ago, when the decision was made to relocate to Colorado, Dexy and Jassy made the trip. They came with me by plane, sitting in their carriers under our seats for a grueling full day of travel. Unconditional love is truly a treasure to appreciate.
There are innumerable things Dexter did to endear himself to everyone that met him. He was loved by all.

On Wednesday, July 24th 2002, at 10:30 pm. Dexter suffered an aortic femoral embolism...a very serious and painful condition that was as sudden as a heartbeat. We happened to be right in the same room. Quickly responding to his sudden loud moaning and inability to walk, we rushed him to the 24 hour vet hospital where the very caring and knowledgeble professionals there advised us that his prognosis was extremely poor and it would be a final act of love to euthanize him.
Seeing him suffer so badly just was a horrible thing to watch. The pain medicine that they quickly gave him was a very short remedy and no solution to his unfortunate grave condition.
A quick consult with my son on the phone with the doctor and the decision was made.

At 11:00PM our beautiful and beloved companion of nearly 16 years died...his head cradled in my hands.
There will never, ever be another cat like Dexter. We loved him tremendously. He was one in a million and we will never forget him.
Our loss feels as empty as can be. I thank him for enriching my life.

____________________________________________________________

Born: September 1988

Died: February 12, 2005

October 1988 Washington, Connecticut.

He was carried home in Dan’s coat pocket, this little ball of gray and white fluff with the pinkest little nose. He was so beautiful.

At the market he had been in a box with his brothers and sisters…a litter of babies showcased for free adoption. Dan couldn’t resist.

He was so tiny and innocent…Dan plopped him down on the bed and there he sat…a little bewildered, looking around at these new surroundings…away from the warmth of his brothers and sisters.

Dexter, our resident 'only' cat, was less than happy about his arrival.

Inquistive at first, Dex cautiously approached this new little being…curiously the same as he, but smaller…different.

Jasper ( as he was soon to be known) thought it great fun to tease and play with this larger version of himself…much to Dexter’s chagrin. On more than one occasion, Jassy would get swatted and growled at. Pecking order would soon be established, Jasper being second in line.

So, little Jassy would not be the head honcho. Surprisingly, this didn’t seem to bother him so much.

As he and Dex grew up together, Jasper’s superior expertise in the field would come into the light.

Being outdoor cats, they would spend almost all of their hours in the fields near our house. Nightime was 'The Hunt'.

Jasper was indeed the more aggressive hunter and the more frequent victor, laying his prizes at the foot of our bed. Then, after receiving approval, out he would go again for another trophy.

He would not be as much the people cat as Dex. More aloof, he would keep his distance…especially when non-family humans were about. Most times, hiding behind the bed until it was safe to emerge.

One thing he did seem to enjoy was being brushed. He would see that you had the brush in your hand as you approached him, yet he would walk away, seemingly daring you to follow him. Then when he felt he had played this teasing game long enough, he would put his head down and roll over on his back for a nice little brushing. Then, when he decided he was satisfied, up he would jump and run off again.

The sweetest little pretty cat, Jasper for most of his life was a very round soft mound of fluffy white and grey fur. His coat was soft and beautiful.

In September of 2000, like Dex, Jassy would make the cross-country journey in a cat carrier, under the seats of two airplanes to our new home in Colorado. He was twelve.

It would become necessary for Jassy to become an indoor cat.

We were very surprised to see that this was not apparently a problem for Jasper. He never ventured to the door to try to escape. He set up his domain in our bedroom. That was where Jasper could always be found…sprawled out on our bed. Sometimes he would venture into the living room to bask in the sun coming in our southern windows.

About three years ago, it was discovered Jasper had a thyroid condition. Medication began. Unlike Dexy who could take medicine like it was his own personal candy, Jassy was not so willing. Our daily routine would now include someone holding him and another of us putting the medicine in his mouth. It wasn’t pleasant, but when the daily ordeal was over, we knew that at least his condition was being controlled and we were keeping him as healthy as we could.

In the months to follow, many changes were to take place in Jasper’s life.

Dexy would suddenly die, and four new little kittens would come to our home to live.

Jasper was a cat who adapted and accepted.

He remained aloof and enjoyed keeping mostly to himself.

Last November, we discovered that Jasper’s kidney’s were failing.

It was a chronic condition that is common in older cats. Upon the advice of our vet, we tried several measures to make Jasper comfortable in his declining months.

Some days were better than others. He didn’t eat well..some days not at all.

Eventually his domain became our walk-in bedroom closet….where he could curl up in his blanket and keep to himself, coming out basically only to eat a tiny bit and use the litter box in the bathroom.

Sometimes he would seek out that warm sunny spot on the hardwood floor.

This round robust beautiful cat was becoming thin and weak.

Everyone knew that soon Jasper would let us know when he was too weary to go on.

That sad day came on Saturday February 12, 2005.

In a marked change of behavior , we could see it in his eyes and the way he walked. He was weak and confused. I call our vet and told him it was time.

There was not a dry eye.

Greg (the doc), Stephanie (his tech), Lenny, Dan and I were all crying and saying goodbye , knowing in our hearts we were helping Jasper in the best way we could to end his suffering and help him move on to wherever animal spirits go.

At 12:15 PM Jasper died a painless and peaceful death, his head cradled in my hands.

Personally, I feel Jasper will always be with us as is Dexter…real animal spirits in our hearts.

The gaping hole in our lives is taking time to heal. Tears still come often.

We will never, ever forget our Little Pretty One.


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