After 20 long years (changed — I had this at 21 but I did the math wrong) (I think that must relate to something like 150 in human years), my Isis has cross the rainbow bridge.
Now, for those of you that are as old as I am (like as old as dirt and you might have been around back when the earth was cooling) you might remember Star Trek — not Star Trek TNG or Star Trek whatever — but Star Trek back when it was just plain Star Trek and didn’t need anything added on because, back in the day, there was only one Star Trek. There was an episode in which there was a guy named Gary Seven who had a “cat” called Isis. Once, while I was watching that episode I decided that if I ever had a female black cat, I’d call her Isis.
YEARS later, I got a call from my friend Mamasara seems her neighbors (who had too many pets as it was) somehow managed to capture a recently born, and abandoned kitten. Quite a cute cat, black except for a white star on her neck. Sort of like she was wearing a necklace. For whatever reason Mamasara couldn’t take her (HEY — it was 21 years ago I don’t recall all the details). At the time I had had some major life changes, and was thinking of getting a second cat.
So, in addition to Meriadoc I ended up with Isis. Now, if you were to ever ask either of the gals, I was only a one cat human (they both lived with me — but they never were really “buddies” they coexisted but each thought that she“owned” me). Meriadoc was my “slut” kitty — she was friends with everyone and if I had guests stay over I’d never see her because she’d be sleeping with (and drooling on) the guests. But Isis pretty much hid from anyone that wasn’t me. In her youth she was a great provider, often bringing me a meal as I couldn’t catch my own. Of course, she wanted to teach me to kill, so she would often bring in LIVE meals. I remember when I had a cat passageway I’d get quite a few live birds (I recall that I didn’t have the cat passageway for all that long now that I think about it). How else was I going to learn to provide for myself if I didn’t have practice killing my own food?? What she was a cat, she’d never been to the grocery store.
8 years ago, when we moved here, she became an “indoor” only cat. And a few years ago she became an “upstairs” only cat, and for about the past 6 months she’s been basically living in the master bedroom closet. For the past two days she’s been wandering around meowing loudly (she used to always meow loudly but then has been quite quiet for the past year or so) and wandering into Chip’s bedroom. I was thinking that it might be time to take her to the vet, but, now I guess I don’t have to.
And when my time comes, and I get to the rainbow bridge, she’ll be waiting there for me. And Meriadoc will be waiting for me. But they will NOT be waiting together.
(And since she’s really been living in hiding for the past few years, I don’t even have a digital image of her) Anyway, Garrison Keillor had a CD called Songs of the Cat. One of the songs was called Out In the Catskill Mountains and to me, it’s what I think of when I think of “kitty heaven”
On an afternoon in the month of June
a wistful cat sat sighing
For her owners were not good to her,
a cousin of the lion.
On her plate was glued some dried up food
she cared not to examine
and as she wept she sat and dreamt
of the land of milk & salmon
Oh there’s fresh catfish in a china dish
and the cream flows from a fountain
On the high plateau where the catnip grows
out in the catskill mountains
Out in the catskill mountains
the land of the big feedtrough
the couches are all comfortable and
no one kicks you off
the dogs are taught to
honor cats and beautiful and holy
and the birds are found right on the ground
and the mice run very slowly
Oh there’s fresh catfish in a china dish
and the cream flows from a fountain
On the high plateau where the catnip grows
out in the catskill mountains
Out in the catskill mountains
fresh tuna just appears
and people beg you for the chance
to scratch behind your ears
A cat can lie flat on its back and never be ambitious
and the grass is sweet beneath your feet
and the houseplants are delicious
Oh there’s fresh catfish in a china dish
and the cream flows from a fountain
On the high plateau where the catnip grows
out in the catskill mountains
out in the catskill mountains
out in the catskill mountains
Here’s a picture of Isis — not MY Isis, but Gary Seven’s Isis.
life in the minivan lane 