The Eyes Took me Back

After dinner yesterday we took a family walk around the neighborhood. Sometimes we'll see cats but not very often. For some reason I had promised Nicky we'd see cats but I was sorry as we neared our destination and none appeared. Suddenly a man emerged from behind some trees with a white cat around his neck and the girl behind him was pushing a stroller with one cat inside a netted cage and one cat sitting on top of the cage. I don't think I've ever seen cats with leashes and riding in strollers. Very unusual! While Nicky and Andy gratefully mauled the cats, we talked with the owners and found the cats were worth a couple grand each and were show cats and the man and woman were Bengal cat breeders.

One of the cats was exceptionally beautiful and and had big yellow green eyes. I felt a quick jerk in my stomach remembering another cat with similar sea green eyes.

We found Tabby when I was about six years old outside the church one Sunday afternoon. Her eyes were similiar to the show cat's eyes but she was worth far less in a worldy sense. We figured she was a stray and took her home. I often wonder if she really was homeless given most cats in rural Highland, Utah in the 80s roamed free. But take her we did.

Some of my fondest childhood memories include my black, brown, and gray striped Tabby with a short tail (half of it got cut off in a tractor accident). Tabby was exceptionally fertile and had at least 10 litters of kittens, sometimes three per year. I thought myself a specialist in the field of kitty midwifery and "helped" her deliver a few times. Personifying cats as I did as a girl, I'd imagine she'd not know what do without me and her strange meows in the midst of labor were her way of saying thanks for hanging around. Looking back it probably more likely meant, "get the hell out." It's funny how egotistical children are.

Tabby forgave me thousands of childish antics. She even forgave the time my Dad took her for a ride to abandon her to make room for keeping kittens (a sad tradition of his day). I don't know how far he took her, but three days later she came back. From that day forward, I wouldn't let her go.

Summer days were spent with my cats and elementary school days were often spent waiting to get home to put on my "cat clothes" and head out with Tabby and her kittens. I was a shy child. Though I had some friends, I always felt more myself with my animals. Maybe it was because I didn't have to wear the right clothes, say the right things, or look a certain way to be popular. I guess that was a good thing given what a scrounge I look like in this shot around 9 years old. The picture was taken Christmas day, but really, I can't believe I left the house with such a tangled mess of blond bed head. And could someone trim those bangs? Geesh!


When I held a purring Tabby in my lap, it didn't matter that I wasn't the most special girl at school or in the neighborhood or that I didn't say clever things. I was the most special person to a warm little furball named Tabby. I suppose in their simplicity, animals teach about unconditional love and acceptance ... something I haven't quite learned how to do myself.