Niño & Niña

Since the death of my Rosemary 5 years ago I have had a terrible time coping with living alone. I computed that I spent 63% of my life with her. I live in a house that is Rosemary, I live in a garden that is Rosemary, walking up and down the stairs and looking at the walls of my Kits home there are pictures of her staring at me.

Some seven years ago Rosemary’s cat, Casi-Casi died. Because we were about to leave for a trip to Buenos Aires we did not adopt a new cat. Even then we understood that the only way to relieve the grief over a dead cat was adopt a new one.

When we returned from Buenos Aires I called my Burnaby daughter Hilary and I told her I had some pasalubums for her. This is a special Tagalog word that means a gift your bring for friends and relatives when you return from a travel abroad. Hilary told me not to bother as she was alone. I insisted so she said, “Rebecca is here.” That my older granddaughter was there was another reason to go. Returning I knew I would be driving down a street that was close to the Vancouver SPCA. There I saw this lovely orange and white cat that was extremely friendly. He was in a very large room. I asked why. I was told that he had sister that hid on top of the air conditioner. They told me it was almost impossible to get her down and if I wanted to adopt the male cat, Mac and Cheese had to be both adopted. I returned with Rosemary and somehow Cheese was visible so we took them home. They were 7 years old. We re-named them Niño and Niña.

These cats are a constant reminder of Rosemary as they slept with us. She especially petted and was close to Niña. Here in Kitsilano I am known as the old man that walks around the block with a cat (Niño) without a leash. Rosemary taught him to do that. Since I take Rosemary’s route I have this feeling of Rosemary’s absent presence all the time. Since she told me, “Never shout at Niño when he lingers. Just be patient”. I am.

Now on these dark rainy days I find that Niño and Niña are what’s left of the stability I used to have with Rosemary and my writer friends. Most of those writers, with one or two exceptions, are all dead. I especially miss Sean Rossiter and Mark Budgen.

I like to lie on my bed with my two cats (bed rotting it is called) and I realize how lucky I am to have two almost-human living beings that are cuddly and warm.

Niño seems to have a remission on his lymphatic cancer of the intestines. I talk to him and Niña and in Spanish. I am sure that when he stares of me he is telling me, in Spanish, “Alex, don’t die before I do. If you do who will take care of me and Niña?”

That is one big reason for me to want to keep living.