Larry

Those of you who know me might think based on the title, that this post is about my Dad who passed away in 2011. In some ways it is. He had Non Hodgkin’s Lymphoma and fought a good fight against it. We still miss him dearly and are reminded of him all the time. In fact, his words still influence us (his three daughters and my Mom) today. 

This story is about the gifts we think he still sends us, whether we need them or not. In this case, I was not looking for any gifts. I was simply taking my mother to the beach with my oldest daughter. We were looking for a little get away. No agenda was set, no meals were planned. My goal was to sit on the beach and read my book all day for three days. I would walk too as we brought my dog Lucy along. She too loves the beach and would want to run wild in the sand for as long as her elderly legs would allow. My daughter would join me on the beach, her goal being to work on the start of her summer tan. My Mom would enjoy our house, take leisurely walks and fluff and fold as she saw fit.

As we traveled down a two-lane highway, the conversation drifted to my Dad and how he “sent” her a mama cat and her three kittens six weeks after he died. We laughed how he told her at the start of his treatment, “We don’t need any more cats. After I die, you can have all the cats you want, but for now I’m done.” No, my Mom is not a crazy cat lady (despite my teasing that she is). We just have always had one or more around the house. She still has one of those kittens he sent. Mom never liked leaving him. She worried he would be lonesome since she was at the beach. She fretted that he would not know what to do with himself. She even went so far as to say, “I wish your Dad would send my kitty a companion!” Lizzie and I laughed and agreed with a knowing glance that maybe she was becoming that crazy cat lady I mentioned before. 

As I may or may not have been speeding down the highway, my mother shrieks, “There is a kitten walking down the side of the road!”  Skeptically I glanced back and sure enough, a tiny black kitten was strolling along the shoulder as if he was looking for something or someone. I whipped the car around and we pulled over. He walked toward my car oblivious to the oncoming traffic about to take him out. Thankfully they stopped; I ran and he dove into the briars. I called for him. He meowed. I called for him. He hid. We left. I told both my mother and daughter that we tried but he was on his own. We didn’t want to miss our ferry to the beach. Ten minutes into the ride back to the ferry, Lizzie begins the campaign to turn around and try again. My Mother joins in. Suddenly, I’m the not so tough parent who caves in and turns around once again. And lo and behold, we find the kitten near the same spot we last left him. After more coaxing and a conversation with a highway patrolman who thought we were all nuts, we get the tiny black kitten into the car. His nose is completely scraped up, and he’s starving and thirsty. With 20 minutes to spare, we fly through a Walmart, get the necessary supplies and board the ferry with this little surprise wrapped in a sweatshirt. 

Our leisurely weekend at the beach became a mission to heal this baby up and decide what the heck we were going to do with him. In my mind, he was going home with my Mom. He was that companion for her lonesome kitty. I had enough going on with my own cat, dog and pond full of fish …oh and three kids. But as the days progressed my mind began to change. My other daughter at home was working on a plan to bring this kitten to our house. She searched the Web for the best way to acclimate a new cat into the home. She debated the pros and cons with her Dad who also did not want a new family member. She got her brother on board. All the while, my Mom is waning a bit. She is thinking how much work it will be for her. She worries how her cat will handle this new addition, and she wasn’t sure she was up for the task at age 82. 

Baby Larry, named after my Dad, ended up at my house. Lucy, the dog is his governess. Max the cat tolerates him and even plays with him despite Larry’s best efforts to nurse and make him his Mama. As for the rest of us, well, he has taught us to live in the moment. He shows us how to live wild and free. He has converted many of our friends into cat lovers. He brings a smile to anyone’s face who hears a story about “Laaaarrrrryyy.” Emphasis on the “ary.” He now has a blog post written about him and may possibly have a college essay written about his journey.

So, I guess Dad is still up to his old tricks and giving us the gifts we need, not necessarily the gifts we think we don’t want. Thanks Dad. I’m becoming a crazy cat lady too.

Oh By the Way, there are so many loving cats in shelters and rescues. Please check out the following cat rescue sites. If you still aren’t sure about owning a cat, come by and see Larry. He’s a gift that keeps on giving!