Poppy

I planned to write very little personal content on this blog (focus on the book world). But sometimes the personal takes over, as is the case with Poppy. Some stupid driver…well, you can imagine the rest.

Poppy came to us with her mother and seven siblings. My daughter, Eliza, had decided to foster cats from the Humane Society, and asked me to go through training with her. After the training, we anxiously awaited the call. We were given Ella (I know-you’re not supposed to name your fosters), who was emaciated and talkative, and her ten day old babies. She was such a good mother, constantly feeding and looking out for them. The job proved to be too great for her, and she died after a few weeks, leaving us to raise the babies. We were very concerned about the one small girl, who wasn’t strong enough to make her way through the others to feed herself, and was still crawling when others had begun to jump and run. We fed her a special formula and gave her extra attention, and it began to pay off. She eventually grew to be larger than her brothers (OK, plump), and we found she had the most loving, gentle disposition of them all.

We already had four cats of our own (never more, as there are four of us, and if there were more of them, they’d out-vote us). You can imagine their reaction as these little ones began to waddle, then walk, then run and slide on the wood floors. A bit disdainful at first, the older cats accepted them and joined in the fun. When it was time to return them to the Shelter, as they were now ready to be adopted, we decided to keep three: Max, Kinkers and Poppy. We were able to follow the other five as they made their way to new homes.

Naming Max was easy. Kinkers was named because he looked like a kinkaju as a baby~full name: Kinks T. (for Trouble) Bungalow. Poppy went through several iterations before we found the right name. One night, while watching a movie, she stepped in to a bowl of buttered popcorn and overturned it on herself. She was stuck, and when we lifted the bowl, there was this poor little thing covered in butter and popcorn. She got a bath that night. I think that’s the only time I’ve not seen a smile on her face.

Two outstanding things about Poppy: she was the most affectionate, loving cat we’ve ever had, and she also saw things that no one else could see. She’d go off to “PoppyLand” when she got that look in her eyes, and would run off tweaking and dancing in the air, pouncing on invisibles, tail twitching in circles. And that was her: so alive, so full of warmth and humor.

Losing Poppy reminds us of those we’ve lost recently… far too many.

G built a box for her, we laid flowers on her, and buried her way out in the back, with a poem (me), a prayer (E) and a song (J). G recited names of our lost friends. We put on a good funeral here.

She loved her brothers, pouncing on invisible objects, a good snuggle… but most of all, she loved us. We are lucky to have had her.

Poppy snuggling with her brothers (from top: Kinks, Poppy, Max)

April 26, 2006~April 13, 2008

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