“If we were completely unalike, we would be unable
to communicate. If we were completely alike,
we would have nothing to say.”
Jonathan Sacks: Not in God’s Name
I think we are aging gracefully, the five of us.
Molly is the youngest and appears to be the most resilient – quick of mind, spry of spirit, fan of sport, consistent of exercise, and keeper of the house. Yep, she is the most resilient of the live-in crew. Not much happens in the household over which Molly's influence does not take sway.
I would be next on the scale of ages. A mere eight years older, I like to think a sense of wisdom comes to the table with my presence…that is what I tell myself. On the other hand, everyone that lives here knows when the curtain is drawn back; the Wizard is not quite as richly wise as he might like to appear. That, of course, is the price one pays for being under the microscope twenty-four/seven.
Then there are the girls...that would be the cats. There was a time when we, that would be Molly and me, exceeded their ages. After all, when they arrived in our home, they fit in the palms of our hands. Time and gravity, however, in addition to the speed of inter-species biologic aging, have caused them to pass us by, right under our noses.
I have written about these characters occasionally, but as their lives accelerate and time on planet decreases, it seems a few more words…recorded thoughts…might be appropriate. If for no other reason than to read and remember when they have slipped through our fingers and disappeared from our home and lives.
It is a paradox how, as the privilege of a life lived drifts away with ever increasing speed, recognition and affection gather a different kind of momentum…richness of appreciation…depth of love. It seems odd that at the crescendo of the relationship, the heart empties and they are gone.
Hold your horses…they have NOT exited stage left yet!
Hannah would be youngest of the girls – still older than Molly and me. She is the most independent – also the biggest by far. Her historically dumpy frame belies an agility that defies description. When she was young, she would leap to a narrow horizontal railing at the top of the stairs with the deftness of an Olympic balance beam champion. Even in these geriatric years, she is the most nimble of the bunch, and the healthiest.
Sarah is in middle…few weeks older than Hannah. While all the girls get along with each other and enjoy our company, Sarah is Molly's cat – period. It really doesn't matter what is going on in the day. If one wants to find Sarah, it is simply a matter of locating Molly. I am tolerated, maybe even mildly appreciated, particularly if I have feeding responsibilities, but there is no doubt where her loyalties lie. She is also the most fragile. A type one diabetic, with irritable bowel syndrome, she requires insulin and anti-inflammatory medication daily.
Finally, there is Leah – my girl and the eldest.
I have written about her the most; I suppose because she owns a larger piece of my heart. She doesn't follow me around like Sarah does Molly, but she comes to me frequently in the day. It is almost as if she is saying, "I just wanted to make sure you were not getting into any trouble."
If I'm writing, she will gently paw my leg requesting a spot by my keyboard. She has as spontaneously fused lower back due to arthritis, keeping her from just jumping from the floor, as had been her custom. If sitting on the couch, she will sit and stare at me until I pick her up. It would be hard to say there is urgency in her frequent appearances, but rather an increased awareness of how much we love each other, and a realization of the increasing velocity with which life is accelerating.
Our home...
So here we sit, our little nuclear family, in a home filled with love and appreciation…all of us, for each of us.
It seems that in spite of so many differences, so many inter-species obstacles, we have found ways to communicate. I suppose it is simply a matter of keeping at it. You know, continuing to take the next step when there is one to be taken.
They say when folk spend decades together; they begin to take on characteristics of one other. I can’t say that’s true for us, but I can say we have found an increasingly meaningful understanding and rhythm that suits us well indeed. These felines are NOT passive passengers in our home, but active participants in the dynamics of our lives.
Molly and I try not to think about life without these little creatures who have brought, and bring, us so much joy. Yet, there are moments of reflection when we appreciate, as it is for the two of us, we will not always be graced with their presence. We are mindful we have been gifted in ways hard to express. So, we work not to take these little ones for granted, nor their contributions.
Appreciation is the key here…appreciation and a heavy dose of love.
Yes sir, when all is said and done, “I think we are aging gracefully, the five of us….”
- ted
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