Rosemary’s portrait stares at me from my place in bed. When I turn of the lights I can imagine her gaze still there.
When we went to get Niño and Niña 7 years ago at the SPCA, Niña became her cat. Niña ignored me or ran away. Now with Rosemary dead five years Niña is constantly on me. She has transferred from Rosemary to me.
The presence of my two cats helps me keep sane. That presence, gives me a purpose in a life that has lost most of it. I believe that I will be more useful to my small family when I am dead. But it is Niño, who has lymphatic cancer of the intestines, and when he stares at me I know what he is thinking. “Alex don’t die before we do. Who would take care of us if you did?”
While Niño communicates without talking that does not stop me from talking to both cats. This I do all the time, particularly when I return home from shopping at Safeway.
I live alone but I talk a lot. In the car, without thinking, I find myself saying out loud, “Rosemary, the quiero,” or I simply repeat her name especially in Spanish, “Rosamaría.”
With my two cats next to me on the bed and with Rosemary in her framed portrait on the wall I feel that we are four in the room.
Magically, as I stare at her and she stares at me back I am back 57 years with my Asahi Pentax S-3 and Kodak Tri-X, taking her portrait. Why did she have that sad look? Did she know or even think then that one day we would not be together?
