Niña - 17 January 2026

 

I remember going up the stairs in my Kits house some years ago and I heard Rosemary talking. When I entered our bedroom she was the only one there. She knew and immediately told me, “I was talking to Niña.” There has been only one change beyond the death of my Rosemary and that is that I also talk to the cats. There is one difference as I mostly communicate with them in Spanish.

There is a lot of Spanish cutesy talking. Niño becomes Niñomuchi and Niña is Niñamuchi. Or I might ask ¿Cómo están los gatos de Mamuchi (Rosemary)?”

My eldest daughter lives in Lillooet so I don’t see much of her. My youngest, Hilary is having a marriage not working all that well so I don’t hear much from her. I live mostly in the silence of my solitude accompanied by my two orange and white cats. They are cuddly and always there.

When Rosemary and I adopted them from the SPCA some7 years ago (they were middle aged) Niña became her cat. In the last few years she has now adopted me and she is with me all the time and insists on getting on top of my chest.

Her presence, her loyalty, reminds me of an event that happened the day Rosemary died on 9 December 2020.

The family was in the living room waiting for the funeral company to arrive to take Rosemary’s dead body away. I had a thought. “I am a photographer and you have to take this photograph.” I went up and there was Rosemary dead on her bed with Niño sleeping on her chest. I took the photograph. This was one of the most peaceful scenes I have ever encountered.

I believe this has to be the most important photograph I will ever take or have taken. I will not show it to my daughters. What was important was the action of taking it and being a photographer beyond being human.

When I look at Niña I know she must not remember. I do. I will treasure her company until one of us goes.