Priscilla Mabel Squeaks

Dear Priscilla Mabel Squeaks,

A Letter To My Cat Comments (0)

OK, I’ll admit it.  I didn’t want you.  Grammy called one day, when she was 93, all choked up and said, “You have to take the cat.  I just can’t take care of her anymore.”  Well, nobody should be that upset at 93 and, yes begrudgingly, I said, “OK.  Don’t cry.  I’ll take the cat.”

After snagging you from the back of her closet and letting Grammy pet you good-bye, big crocodile tears in her eyes, I brought you home to coax you out from under my own bed and convince you to live with me and Colin and the pug.

It’s been thirteen years now, and you’ve somehow wrangled your way into my heart.  How did that happen, my girl?  How is it that, despite all your physical stuff, your munching of all my flowers and plants, and your litter box “issues”, you’ve been able to worm your way onto my lap every evening?  (It’s no accident that your initials are PMS)

Still, I built that patio for you because you had never known the sun, or felt a breeze brush over your fur, and we both know it was used by the whole family. How did you ever convince me to do that?

Your timing has always been awful, wanting out just as I’m ready to go in.  Wanting on my lap, right when I’m ready to get up.  Wanting to stay outside, right when I’m going to bed.  But you know, sometimes we need a little less predictability in our lives simply to keep us living in the moment.  For instance, just when we thought you were a truly “prissy”girl, you surprised us by turning into an awesome mouser and brutal hunter of garden snakes (although throwing up snake guts in the patio wasn’t so cool).

You make me laugh, you make me try hard despite my grumbling.  You make me understand the value of patience, and when you kiss Dudley’s ears in his old age I know you’ve secretly loved him all these years.

When Colin comes home on leave from the Air Force you’ll talk that cat talk to each other and he’ll turn you upside down, rough you up a little and you’ll love it like you always have.  I never understood your affection for his torture.  Must be a guy-girl thing.

Thanks, Priscilla, for being our very last cat.  I hope you’re in my life for many years to come.  Grammy was right when she told me you were ‘very sweet’.

So, look at that — we love you very, very much after all.

Donna, Colin and Dudley (the dog)

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» A Letter To My Cat » Dear Priscilla Mabel Squeaks,
On May 22, 2014

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