Sadie was my roommate's cat. I moved in with Dana in early 2006. She had a cat, and I had a cat. Somehow, when she left, I had both kitties "temporarily". That was nine years ago!
|Sadie and Scout|
She was a quirky little feline. She had the most delicate bones and features of any cat I've had. She was extremely skittish and afraid of men. When I started dating Gil, she would hide every time he came by. He didn't believe that I actually had two cats. She gradually got curious, and would sneakily try to check him out. In my old condo, the kitchen and living room were at street level, while the bedrooms were downstairs. We would be sitting on the couch talking or watching TV, and she would stand on the stairs and poke her little head up like a periscope, scoping out the situation but able to run away at the first sight of danger. The only male that she never seemed wary of was my mom's partner Brian. Somehow she loved him from the get-go.
Sadie taught me things about myself, and about love. She had a weird habit of sticking her butt in your face if you were patting her. This made it difficult to cuddle with her and have anything in your hands. I remember one time, she was walking all over me and sticking her bum in the air, and I blurted out, "Why don't you just let me love you?!" It made me think about how easy it is to love those who do what we want them to do, but the nature of real love is selfless, loving others even when we don't understand them or their motivations or they drive us crazy. I'm so blessed to be loved by people even when I am not always the most lovable.
|Hiding in a box, as one does|
Some people might say that she was only a cat, and I guess that's true. In the past few years, however, she was just what I needed. Sure, she didn't speak or understand my situation. But because she didn't speak, she couldn't say things like, "Sure you're infertile, but at least you get to sleep in on weekends" or "Don't you know that parenting is hard?" She didn't understand, so when I was weeping about my infertility and she walked away, I knew it wasn't personal and she wasn't choosing not to care. She never made me feel like I couldn't be sad over my infertility unless I'd exhausted every single option, or like I had to justify my infertility decisions before I could get any sympathy. Unlike people, she never snubbed me or ignored my pain any more than a cat does naturally. Unlike people, she loved me for who I was. She didn't say anything, but her presence was more than enough. So she was just a cat, but sometimes that made her the best friend I could have had in this messy, ugly, lonely ride through infertility. She was just a cat, but she was my cat, and I will miss her terribly.
I love you, Sadie Lady.