Keisa's Door Knocker - continued

I ate my meals on a tray in the living room in a recliner. Keisa was always present and enjoyed her own meal [or part of mine] on a small table at my elbow. She finished first and immediately had to go up attic. A good a rattle of that doorknob and an expectant stare would get me up and the door open. So this required another door knocker on the inside knob for when she had finished her survey of her estate and her nap. This knocker made just as good a knocking sound against the wooden door as against the metal one but it was more mysterious.

____Written by Veronique, an appreciated caretaker of a self-confidant cat.

FINALE ON KEISA

After winning the indoor-outdoor battle Keisa explored the neighborhood. Beyond my back fence there was a particular tree that she liked to climb up that made a problem for me because she claimed she could not climb down. Since I was unwilling to leave her outdoors when I went to bed or anytime I left home. I had to ask that neighbor’s permission to trespass and then stand patiently under the tree and reassure Keisa that if she would work her way down a little more I would grab her. Finally she did and I did to the applause of an observer. This happened twice, with the applause from a different quarter, Gita, friend and caretaker.

Of course I had to carry Keisa home, struggling, hissing and complaining, to home confinement. Slowly she realized she had to come in when I was going out and would come to my call or at least let me go pick her up.

Also Keisa decided that the large maple tree in her own front yard was a good challenge. It was a pleasure to watch her calculating distances like an engineer. She was very cautious and never missed.

Her caution stood her in good stead, especially as she grew older and more arthritic. I especially remember a day when she was beginning to weaken from her kidney failure and was worried because it affected her gait and made her miss jumps.

This day I saw her standing at the head of my driveway. She was debating whether it was safe to cross the road to study those two figures that stood there and never moved. [Halloween]. To her relief I called her. She turned and began a slow measured dignified walk down those ten yards to the kitchen door. I had never seen that gait nor such pride and confidence. She looked steadily at me and silently said, “See me!” The confidence was both that she was worth watching and that I would wait. I had to help her up the three steps into the house. One must admire the courage cats have in accepting and adjusting to aging and limitations. This was about Keisa’s last month.

That month she spent mostly in her yard, often lying in the sun on the cement block that covered the hole and finally on the ground beside it. She resented my covering the soil with a tarp but continued to use her litter box. Then she took to hiding in places she couldn’t get out of, and going over to Gita’s catnip bed. I brought her home unresisting. The night she could not stand up the fright in her eyes told me it was time. She stayed in the crook of my arm in bed, something she had never submitted to before and in the morning did not fight the carrier. But she did resist being removed from it and I know she knew. Her own Dr. Stokes let me be beside her. I resisted all suggestions that I wait a while and drove us home immediately and buried her in her familiar place unobserved. All had gone smoothly as planned. Don’t do it that way. Spend some time on a final good-by. You will be glad you did.

Keisa had earned her title of Companion Cat by being just that. Her sense of being my equal was plain. No one was in charge. We were just two people managing the household together. We each had different abilities and hence different duties. My role was that of provider and facilitator. Her role was that of hostess and co-operator: Always answer the door bell and greet the caller. Stay a while if appreciated. Always be there for the departure. Meanwhile you may have been let out and in by using the door knocker. If still outside, be oblivious to their worry about running over you. They won’t do that.

This is about Companion cat PLUS, an addition to Keisa’s title that I should have given her soon after she made her home with me, since it was a service she contributed throughout most of her time in this house. She joined me at prayer. Notice that I did not say in prayer. Since I live alone, it bothers no one if I read aloud or recite prayers aloud to help concentration.

Keisa’s service was purely voluntary, in fact inconvenient at times. It is hard to make room for a large cat when you are holding a large book or to rearrange three pots of African Violets on the table at the big window near your chair when she has had enough of prayer.

I never called her but cats like routine they can depend on. Sometimes I sat in the big recliner. At the sound of my voice she appeared from wherever she had been in the house and claimed the crook of my left elbow to rest her head. If I sat in her favorite chair, the platform rocker near the window, she did not jump on me. She sat on the floor at my right and waited for me to pick her up, especially as we grew older and more arthritic. She liked rhythmic prayers, like the rosary or psalms. Sometimes she purred. As she grew more ill I had to help her onto the window table. It was touching to see her come slowly around the corner towards me to do what she considered her self-appointed duty. Yes, she was a companion.

One day she was much puzzled. Two young men were leaving. They had doted on her and now they were going away but there was no car. She accompanied them to the head of the driveway and sat down to watch them go down the road toward the bus stop on foot. Very strange.

There was something else bothersome about that doorbell Keisa never did understand. It rang when nobody wanted to come in. We would both be standing there with the door open. Poor Keisa, who had to understand everything. What she did not know was that I was causing the bell to ring because I could seldom avoid it. The bell button was in the door jamb between that and the mail slot. Had I had Keisa’s pantomime skill, I could have thought of a way of explaining it to her.

That is my story of four cats. Thank you for listening.

-- Veronique

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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS:

Thanks especially to my Webitor who transcribed all of this for Keisa’s Blog and to all the kind personnel of Green Mountain Animal Hospital, Chittenden County Humane Society, and Dr Gary Sturgis for home care, and to all who visited Keisa’s Blog and especially those who made comments.

Thanks to my niece pictured left holding Keisa, #4 cat [c. 2000]. She supplied any pictures of Keisa that I contributed, because I cannot find my copies, but more important is the fact that she and her husband were the owners of the monogamous cat, Twinkle Toes, who waited for the same big white tomcat who produced my big white Chip. Without them there would have been no Chip to be the counterpart of Keisa.

--Veronique