My
grandmother whom I called Abuelita constantly taught me refrains from the Don
Quijote de La Mancha and many more that she learned as a Little girl when going
to school in Valencia in the 19th
century.
Sometimes
she taught me stuff that was unkind. Of boring people she would say, “la
compañía del niño muerto,”
which translates to, “the company of the
dead child.”
Eight years
ago we adopted brother and sister cats that were called Mac and Cheese at the
SPCA. They were about 6 years old. Rosemary and I liked to adopt cats that were
middle-aged so that we could enjoy that mutual getting to know each other. I
did not like the SPCA names so I named them Niño and Niña.
Niña became
my cat and Niña adopted my Rosemary. They were our constant presence when we
were in bed and they slept with us.
After
Rosemary died on 9 December 2020 I found solace in the company of my cats. I
would talk to them (mostly I Spanish) and I catered to their needs. This
catering brought me a stability that I lacked in not having a partner, not
needing to work and having too much time to think. One routine was taking Niño
for his daily walk (no leash) around the block. Rosemary had taught him.
Rosemary often told me, “When I am not around and you walk Niño be patient and
don’t shout at him.”
On May 12
this year I woke up with Niño dead on my bed. It has been a devastating death
ever so slightly ameliorated by the Niña’s constant warm presence. Somehow, and
I am sure, she understands the concept of death. She has adopted all of Niño’s
quirks (except walking around the block). I often ask her, “Do you remember
Niño, Niño?”
She is my
daily routine as is my daily bike ride. The bike ride divides the day and that
activity adds a element of stability. I am not sure how I will handle the cold
in December. I would never bike in the
rain.
I will have
to cuddle with Niña on the bed and we
wil think of our Rosemary and Niño.
And so I can
modify what my abuelita told me to , “Niña
the company for a dead Niño.”