Every girl needs a cat

I've said it for decades: Every girl needs a cat. And every cat needs a girl. Mr. Pound (Ezra) was my cat, and I was his girl.

My heart is now broken and I am inconsolable as I try to come to terms with life without my beloved boy cat. There aren't enough words in the English language to express the profound sadness and sorrow in my heart. He filled such a big space in there, with his little black and white face, and perpetual smile. A good natured little creature I'm convinced God made just for me.

Since March 2001, he's been my guy, my best boy. In the last 14 and a half years, there are lots of Mr. Pound stories. But my favorite is from the first night he came home to Greer, South Carolina.

I got Mr. Pound and Little E (Edna) at the Johnson City/Washington County Animal Shelter. I tried looking at the Greenville County shelter earlier in the month of March, but there were no cats. Odd, but then, as Arthur Koestler postulates, there are no coincidences. My father had just died (Dec. 2000), and I'd just lost the cat of my early adulthood, Slim, in Feb. 2001. Along a twisted T.S. Eliot vein, my life is measured out in cats (rather than coffee spoons).

My first cat, as a very young, pre-school aged child, was a beautiful Siamese named Pongy. According to the stories, we were inseparable. I vaguely remember him, but suddenly he was gone. I do remember asking my mother, day after day, where the cat was. I asked and asked and my parents told me they'd given him to the painter, Mr. Miller, who has recently finished some work at our house. I didn't get it: Why would he get my cat? I didn't find out until years later (decades, really) that he'd had to be put to sleep.

My next cat was another Siamese named Iam. She really belonged to my older sister, but once she went to college in 1969, the cat became mine. She was a lovely and loving cat. I don't recall how her name evolved to Keegie, but Keegie and I spent countless hours together. I hated bringing her that smelly cat food every night, she was a treasure that I cherished. Keegie and I were both 12 when she died. She crawled in her bed and stretched her legs out as far as they would go. When we took her to our beloved vet, Dr. Gene Reynolds, he told us that it was her way of keeping the blood flowing to her internal organs, which were shutting down. I still have Keegie's collar in my desk with a love letter I wrote to her. And it still brings tears to my eyes to think about how hard it was to lose her.

In early October of that same year, while listening to the top 40 on AM radio, my younger sister and I heard an ad for Siamese cats. We started our relentless nagging routine and Mom agreed to take a look. Once we got there, we found two kittens. We immediately fell in love with them and when Mom asked about the cat, the lady said we had to take both of them. What was she going to do? It worked out better, in a way, that there were two. One for me, one for my sister. So we got them both.

I named my cat, the male, Pim, after Anne Frank's nickname for her father. My sister named her cat, the female, Liat, after the character in South Pacific. The kittens were so much fun. They quickly grew to love us as much as they already loved each other. Pim slept around my neck like a fur collar. He would sit on my shoulders as I roller skated, and would ride in my bicycle basket. Precious cargo. He followed me around like a puppy. Once they got older and were banished from our bedroom at night, they would get in their cat bed and wrap around each other. They would curl up and you couldn't tell which cat was which. The summer I graduated from college, Pim became sick. He was only nine years old then, but Siamese males were susceptible to kidney issues. Dr. Reynolds nursed my cat back to health, snatching him from the jaws of certain death.

The following August, I moved to Miami to teach school, and in April of 1983, I got the tearful phone call from my parents as they broke the news that Pim had to be put to sleep. I still cherish the picture I have of me getting ready to move to Miami, standing in front of my overpacked car, holding my dear Pim in my arms.

Liat was so distraught after Pim's death that for more than a year, she cried and wailed for him. It was almost too much to bear. She lived to be 12, I think, but was never the same cat she was when they were together.

In 1986, Slim entered my life. Anyone who knows me as a young adult knows how special and loved that cat was. The joy we shared was truly special. In our early days, during a long distance relationship, Slim would travel in the car with me. I'd open the door and she'd hop right in. Later, she hated the car because it meant going to the vet. Slim lived to be 14 and a half before she was put to sleep in Feb. 2001.

And now, full circle, to Mr. Pound. The night I brought him home, my husband and I let the cats our of their cages so they could scout out the premises and get used to their new digs. We let them wander around for a few hours. When it was time to go to bed, I found Little E right away, but Mr. Pound was missing. They didn't know us (or their names) at that point so I got panicky. My husband said to relax, he was getting his bearing in his new environment. So I got ready for bed and when I pulled back the covers on my side, there he was.

Every night since Mr. Pound and I cuddled at bedtime. I don't know how someone could have ever given that cat to the pound. He was so loving and so sweet. If I lay on my right side, he'd tap me on the shoulder with his paw until I rolled over on my left and opened my arms. He'd crawl right in and lay against my head, gently purring and finally settling down with his head under my chin, until we both fell asleep.

I'm not sure now how I'll get through this sorrow without Mr. Pound. How will I be able to fall asleep without his gentle, constant purring, those rhythmic sounds of satisfaction and contentment. How will I pass his pillow at the end of the bed where he would nap with his front legs crossed, or find him sprawled on his back in his favorite chair? How long will I walk by the door and look for his sweet face, waiting patiently to come inside? How can I survive without his head butting and generous kitty-cat kisses?

These last 14 and a half years seem monumental to me and also, strangely, mundane, in that the sameness of our existence was comforting. It was the norm, it was our life together in an every day continuity that I am not ready to give up. I will cherish forever the pattern of familiarity, the joy of him being my cat. The wonder of me being his girl.

In loving memory of Mr. Pound (Ezra)

Entrusted to my care
March 2001-June 2015

In my heart
Forever

If Hillary Clinton really wants to be my champion

I read this article in the newspaper this morning, where Hillary Clinton announced her candidacy (again), and just can't keep my yap shut about the impact it has on me as an "everyday American."

First of all, to avoid the barrage of media questions (again) that follow her around due to her evasiveness on certain issues (such as Benghazi, email server, donations to foundation while she was SoS, claiming she and Bill were broke, blah, blah, blah), she made the second announcement via video. The first was on Facebook. Be that as it may, she outlined a four-point fight that she would wage: 1) equitable economic growth, 2) national security, 3) better treatment of children and 4) less corrupt government.

In response to that I say:

Regarding your first point, Mrs. Clinton, for you to be my champion of equitable economic growth, you'd have to realize that I worked hard for my education. I paid for it myself, at a reputable state university, where I could afford to go. Sometimes I had to borrow money to go, but I paid it back by the end of every semester/quarter. How did I afford to do that? I worked. I had two jobs at school that paid part of my tuition. I had a third job at a restaurant, where I worked from 4pm until 11pm or midnight six days a week. And in the summer, I also worked two minimum wage jobs; one from 9am-6pm and the other from 6pm until 11pm or midnight. The first job was seven days a week, the second was six days a week. Was it hard? You bet it was. But my champion would realize that I did it so I could get ahead without help from the government. I did it so I wouldn't have to rely on a minimum wage job to support a family. My champion would know that minimum wage jobs are not designed to be a living wage. I went to graduate school on a scholarship, working a job (as well as two others), so I could increase my marketability for a decent job. When I finally got my first "real" job, I earned less than minimum wage. Was that great? No, but I did a great job anyway. I worked hard, got noticed by someone else and moved to my second "real" job (at age 27) where I made a bit more than minimum wage, but finally received benefits. Was that easy? Not really, but that job got me noticed by another company. This time, I made a "real" wage for the first time in my life. I was 32 years old. I believe I have paid my dues, and my champion would understand why I resent the implications that I have somehow cheated someone else who hasn't had the success I've earned.

I pay my bills, I pay my taxes, I pay for my own phone, I pay my own cable bill. I realize that not everyone can do this. However, what I do realize is that my equitable economic growth champion must be willing to recognize that while poverty is rampant in our country, there are ways to remove poverty from being a factor when it comes to education. And just giving people money, benefits, etc., without requiring anything in exchange (such as education, work, etc.), will never, ever work.

As to point number 2, Mrs Clinton, for you to be my champion of national security, you must be honest. You need to come clean on Benghazi. You need to come clean on the second email server. You need to be honest about the donations to your foundation from countries you were working with while you were Secretary of State. You have to put all the lies on the table, fess up and tell the truth. Will that be hard? Not really, because most of us don't believe you anyway. But you would certainly gain some respect if you would actually take responsibility for your actions.

And, if you want to continue to earn my respect regarding national security, you'd have to get rid of your snarky attitude. The prevailing attitude you portray that makes it seem you believe you are better than everyone else. Being above the law. Your attitude after Benghazi ("What difference does it make...") was disgraceful. It matters. Those lives matter. Every life matters. And the spin that the government put on the truth (result of a video, changing talking points, spreading disinformation on news programs) was also disgraceful. Your attitude about the second email server was disgraceful. You said it was for convenience. Are you above the law? Do we have to change every policy and procedure for your convenience? For you to be my president and my champion of national security, you have a long, long way to go to earn my trust and respect.

Regarding point number 3, Mrs. Clinton, for me to even consider you as my champion for better treatment of children, you'd have to take a step back and re-evaluate what you even mean by that. Your entire history as a politician, everything I have read and heard about you shows you clearly believe that being a woman is tied solely to reproductive issues. I am more than my ovaries, and my champion should understand that. My champion should understand that treatment for children will never get better if we have no respect for them in the womb. If a mother can kill her own child, up to the very moment before birth, what does that say about us? What does that say about a champion (and a woman, no less) who would think that could be ok under any circumstance? You have repeatedly said that "religious beliefs about abortion have to be changed." Anyone looking to be my champion would understand that placing yourself about the law of God (and nature) is a dangerous proposition. You equate being a woman with reproductive freedom, but I say that my champion would understand that women have all the freedom in the world to avoid pregnancy. That decision (in cases except for rape, abuse and incest) is made prior to engaging in reckless sexual behavior. My champion would understand that until our country can truly respect life at all stages (from natural conception to natural death), our children will not have the peace they seek and so desperately deserve.

And finally, Mrs. Clinton, for you to be my champion of a more efficient and less corrupt government, you'd need to refer back to item number 2. You need to tell the truth. Be honest. Transparency is about honesty. It's not about sneaking secondary powers into laws that need to be passed on their face, but have so many riders filled with pork and politics they become unjust. My champion would understand the necessity of term limits, the common sense of eliminating PACs and lobbies and allowing the elected to truly represent the people who put them in office rather than vote the way their pockets are stuffed with perks and dollars. To have a more efficient government, my champion would not look for ways to sidestep the law; my champion would consider the ramifications of every single statement of law, defend and uphold the constitution, and lead this country soundly based on the laws of this land, not for personal gain or historical legacy.

To bring it all into perspective, Mrs. Clinton, you have a lot explaining and changing to do before you consider that you represent the "everyday American." I think if you did some serious soul searching, put aside your personal political aspirations and focused solely on what the "everyday American" is telling you that he/she wants, you'd see that you extremely far off course. There's certainly time to correct it, but you better get started now.