As Tiime Goes By

I had lunch with a friend today. We do this about three times a year because she works. Maybe when she retires we can see each other more often. Although, if her retirement is like mine, she can be even busier if only she allows it.

Anyway, she brought a picture with her, which she gave me. (Thank you again, if you are reading!).

The photograph was taken in 1974. There is a big snowfall going on, so snow flakes dot the picture. I am standing under a tree with lots of clothes on. I have my cat in my arms. He looks terrified. He was a house cat and never outside, but I had wanted a picture taken of us in the snow, so out he went, but only for a few minutes and he never left my arms.

I remember this photo being taken like it was three years ago instead of thirty-nine years ago. I am twenty years old. My hair is long and straight. Time or the development of the photo has discolored my hair some, it looks like it has a red tint to it, which it never has.

My face is so young! I look sweet. I am obviously in love with the cat. He is about two years old, at the most, not quite full grown.

When this cat was twelve years old he was taken from me, and I won't speak more of that because I like laughter in my life, not old nightmare memories.

But Husband knows the story, and he has searched for some time to find a cat whose temperament, size and color would be as near as he could get to replace my cat of yesteryear. Husband was successful, this cat looks amazingly (or maybe not so amazingly) like the cat I had then.

I think Husband wanted to help heal a wound, and it has. I don't dwell on this "wound" much, for it is unhealthy. But I did love that cat, and I had him for a long time. All the way through my twenties. You can imagine the hole that was left in my heart.

And my cat now? He is a lot like cat number one. They resemble each other in a remarkable way. He is very protective and territorial of me, as my other cat was. But my present cat is a little wilder, my other cat let me bathe him ( although he hated it). I think he would have let me do anything to him.

Not so with the cat I have now. He doesn't like to be brushed, he cries out like  you are beating him, and he will use claws to get away if you don't let him down after just a few strokes of the brush.

Ah well, he isn't a reincarnation. He's just a cat.

But a wonderful, lovely cat, at that.

Thank you Husband.

I love you, too.