Niña

My male cat Niño in the morning of June 12 was on my bed with his twin sister Niña, when I touched him he did not respond. To my horror his eyes were open and did not focus. He did not yet have rigor mortis.

Since then Niña seems to have known of her loss and became extra affectionate with me. Of late she has been adopting some of Niño’s habits. He was allowed on my red table cloth dinner table. He would stare at me around 7:45pm knowing that I would go into my bedside drawer and take out a handful of treats.

Because I consider myself to be a Platonist I believe in the philosopher’s concept of essences. Since Rosemary and I had many cats since 1977, when one would die we would immediately go to the SPCA to adopt another middle-aged cat. We liked the mutual adaptation. It was part of the fun.

Somehow the new cat would have characteristics of the dead cat. One day my Portland baroque bass player told me something that I have not forgotten. “Alex cats have in their genes the memory of having been petted by Egyptian pharaohs.

I am convinced that Niña understood the concept of death.

Sometimes I tell people seriously (but it is a joke that I am thinking of becoming a trans woman so I can then be an authentic cat lady. Some believe me.

With my Rosemary (we were married for 52 years) gone on December 9, 2020 and with the death of Niño I live alone. But I understand that I am not completely alone. I baby talk Niña, who responds with little noises. She keeps me busy with her routines. I feel that I am useful.

When I went to a baroque concert on July 1 when I left at a back alley this black cat was staring at me. I was compelled to take his portrait. And yes a portrait is usual of persons but then I am convinced of the humanity of a cat.