Mom loves cats. And everybody.
Mom loved animals. I wish I could have seen her when she was young and laying with her cats. She told me about the willow tree in her yard where she used the branches to play with cats. There was a canal nearby and she told me she walked along it while searching for lost kittens. I walked along that same canal on my own search for missing kittens. She knew most people didn't like animals - especially cats. I started saving cute videos I found online of people and their cats. People rescuing strays, people spoiling their own, people recording their cats doing odd things. It didn't matter what, she was always fascinated and laughed. She would say 'it's good to know there are other animal lovers out there' while we watched video after video until we reached the previous videos I had shown her. My loved cats the most. But she liked other animals as well. I remember her talking about her brother's hunting dogs. I don't think they were the friendliest pooches. Of course, since dogs were the sworn enemy of cats I was surprised she like them at all. Did the first family have a dog? We definitely did not. When I adopted pet rats she wasn't so sure about them. I left home for a year and she willingly took care of the pet rats I left behind. In written letters she told me the rats started responding to her come feeding time. She loved them. I think they died while I was gone. I know she cried as she helped their little bodies. Because that's what mom did. She never gave up on them. As a child I agreed with her when she would refuse to have the vet put an animal to sleep. We didn't give up. We didn't want to say goodbye. There was a chance they would get better. I have a memory of Mom trying to save a severely injured kitten. I was young. The kitten had a massive wound on its back and in that would were maggots. I can still see her sitting on a chair, injured kitten in her hand with tweezers in her other had, while she tried to pull out the invading maggots. Because that's what Mom did. We had a cat named Twinkie. They adopted him years before I was born. All I knew of Twinkie was to leave him alone. He was an absolutely handsome siamese looking cat. And he was old. Towards the end of his 19 years he became sick with cancer. I remember her saying they spent "a lot" of money taking him to the vet. $400 in the late 1980s. Might as well have been a million dollars if you add in the expenses to raise 10 kids and grandkids. Twinkie slowly faded away. Mom would later tell me she felt like there "more for him to learn" and that's why she didn't take him to the vet and let him go. She said he was a grumpy cat and yet at the end he would let the other cats we had (and there was always other cats) sleep next to him. I'm older now and can obviously see these cats should have been taken to the vet to end their suffering. That was expensive, though. And she didn't give up. When I was 12 I found her sitting on the garage steps, cradling the broken body of one of our cats, and she was crying. His name was Cisco and he was hit by a car. She held him and we both cried. Because that's what Mom did. Q She always saw the best in everyone. She told me all animals are good....except this one cat. This cat had kittens and then killed them for some reason. That was the only bad cat. The rest were good. I hope you know you are standing at the grave of a woman who just...loved her cats. I am honored to carry her love for cats. I find myself on the internet and come across videos of cats being silly, of people rescuing animals, of dogs and cats hanging out together, and think 'Mom would love this video'. Mom loved cats. Mom loved animals. Mom just...loved.
