Crazy Cat Lady

Another 'mamie' slice.
On her legacy.

I started loving cats when I was living with her. My grandparents always had cats in the house; well - not exactly : since my mom was 12. Which is synonymous with FOREVER when your tiny little self is only 6.
Or even with science-fiction.

Chita was the cat of the house when I was around. Really the spelling should have been 'Cheetah' since she was named after Tarzan's monkey for some reason. I don't think I have ever known why; every time I asked I heard the same non-descriptive answer: "Because we wanted something a little bit more original than Coco, Titi and Loulou".
Well - mission accomplished guys.
The funny thing is that they never knew what a REAL cheetah was. And I learned it myself only much later.

So Chita (let me stick with tradition, will you?) was quite the specimen. Born from an aging Moumousse, she was the only cat of the litter. These two factors combined led me to elaborate the theory that Chita suffered from Down Syndrome, the feline version. Looking back on it it shows a pretty good understanding of genetics for a girl my age....
Wonder how I came up with that...as well as what happened to my precocious talent for sciences.

Chita was not only a monkey in name, she was also a real bitch. For the most part I was scared of her claws and her mood swings; but she was also fascinating. I was dreaming of a tamed version of her who would just cuddle on my lap all day long and purr like a machine. Every so often she would actually jump on me; I was so ecstatic that I wouldn't move an inch. Hardly breathing and giving myself cramps I was savoring the moment and was imagining that my tormentor did too. She was closing her eyes after all - which was in my mind a sure sign that she was smiling.

This traumatic experience should have pushed me away from cats for the rest of my life.
It only kindled my interest.

My mom was a clean freak and never allowed us to have pets. (Now I can totally see why. I am to the point of considering providing plastic cover ups to my future guests - at least if they want to sit somewhere. Any other suggestion is welcomed - shaving aside.)
So it took me almost twenty years to share my space with a cat again.

Gretel came in our lives in April 2006. She is a little bourgeois picked up on a Sunday morning from classy Hinsdale, but living in the 'hood has definitely worked wonders on tempering down her aspirations.
(I never told her we were living almost next door to the President, and neither should you.)

She is of course precious, cute, sweet, adorable and I love her bunches. And it's not only because she is fluffy, warm, hilarious and yes, cuddly (RIP Chita). She is unique and will always be because she helped me during the darkest moments of my life. Always by my side when I would spend hours in bed, crying and staring at the ceiling. Licking my hand to signify me that I was not totally alone. Pushing her head against my face in a way to tell me that it was going to be ok.
So now - have I just totally given in in anthropomorphism? Foh sure. But there is not an ounce of me who doesn't believe in what I wrote. I don't think I am one of these crazy cat ladies who prefer their four-legged companions over anything (anyone) else. I find them creepy. But I know that somehow, in her own special way, Gretel cared. One of the surest signs of this 'involvement' was that her behavior changed as I was slowly but surely liberating myself from the iron grip of depression. She took her distance. Still present and affectionate but more on her own terms. She felt she was not needed anymore.

As a kid I could not fathom why mamie was so found of Chita-the-feral-cat (I guess she was just trying to live up to her name; who could blame her for it?). It took me twenty years and my own hour of need to understand that Chita was just there for her. She welcomed her at the door. She was a presence in a cold and empty bed. A being to talk to and to care for. Moody perhaps but faithful, reliable, authentic.
I couldn't see that at the time but now - I totally get it.