And then there is love

This was our third or fourth transatlantic call. Thus far our rapport was incredible. We were speaking about our marriages, kids, hobbies, dislikes, health, homes, music, books, language, fidelity and then about the pets we have had.

I told her about Felix sleeping on my bed all these years. There was a brief silence on the other side of the Atlantic and then a jaunty. "Ah, you sleep with a dead cat? Surely you are joking!"

"Well, he is safely ensconced in his little white kitten who is rather gray by now. But, yes. I was so distressed at his passing that it took me nine years before I was able to adopt the twins. So we all sleep together now. I introduced them when I brought the twins home. I told them that this was their eldest brother and they had to give him respect."

Silence!

Copyright © 2008 by m.m.sugar

Why I sleep with a dead cat-continued

The rest was a blur. We had a barbecue. The kids toasted marshmallows. I loved to see the sparks of burnt offerings flit into the air and extinguish into nothingness. Each time a spark began to die, I followed it until it was carried by the wind, even into the blindness of nightfall. I know I tried breathing in the sweetness of the cool air but it was contaminated by the smoke emanating from the cigar languidly hanging from his fingers.

We got the kids into bed after the usual battle to get them to brush their teeth and settled in front of the TV. I alternately smiled and nodded my head and rhythmically commented to prove my presence-to myself.

Zeitgeist! I knew I was not alone. I was a member of the Stepford Club: unwilling, but finally cognizant!

The next morning I opened the side door to feel the sun on my face. The kids were off to their last school day and he was off to work. I knew that the kitten would be somewhere for me to discover. It was a little girls ballerina shoebox and there he lie in a minute bundle smaller than I recalled from the previous day.

When I decided to name him after my dad, I researched it’s origin. I had not known that Felix was Latin for happy or fortunate. Then I remembered a phrase from my Latin studies at the girls’ academy. Fortuna sequatur, let fortune follow.

It was then that I designated tiny Felix as my lodestar.

Copyright © 2008 by m.m.sugar