My Mother graciously adopted a cat 14 or so years ago. I think the real story goes, If I remember correctly. I convinced my brother’s girlfriend at the time to adopt a cat, and she turned out to be terribly allergic, so I convinced my mom to adopt her. So. This cat, Lydia has been living with my mother ever since. Maybe living is not the appropriate word, more like cowering in the shadows. I can’t even find a single picture of her to add to her post. Over the last couple months she has emerged more often to chat, even when The Associate is around. Normally she would head for the hills as soon as The Associate darkened the door.
Lydia passed away the other day, and here is the retelling of my discussion with The Associate.
me-(trying to be casual on the walk home from school) “I have some very sad news.”
me- “Lydia passed away today “(TA is getting very upset)
me-“She had a long life, and was very old honey, it’s ok.”
TA- “NO SHE WASN’T, SHE WAS ONLY FOUR!!”
me- (confused) “She was at least fourteen sweetie, you know gramma’s cat was sick”
TA- “OH! I thought you were talking about my friends little sister. Phew!”
me – “Oh! no honey that Lydia is just fine. ”
TA- (saddened again) “Just when Lydia was starting to like me.”
Can you imagine what went on in that little brain in those 20 seconds. It makes me shiver.