Missing Paloma
As my husband and I got more serious in our dating I worried about the eventual merge that would happen. I don't mean the merge between he and I, but rather between his one cat Paloma and my two, Tiny & Mulder (and between Paloma and me too if I'm being honest).
Paloma was an older lady, part Siamese and part tabby with beautiful blue eyes whose lids were heavily shaded in white, making her look like a little bespectacled ghost when it was dark. Her fur was mostly white with black and gray tabby markings and a ringed tail that never stopped darting around feverisly, even when she was resting.
"Don't pet her!" Were the first words out of Darrin's mouth to any visitor. Even if she draped herself all over your legs you were warned that if you did succumb to her flirtations and put your hand down to touch her, you'd pull up a bloody stump.
She wasn't "mean" although that's how we had to describe her to my young neice and nephew to keep their limbs safe; she was just quirky and untrusting. Her eyes were a little jiggly in their sockets and I can count the number of times when her pupils weren't dialed out to ten. She needed to build trust before anyone other than Darrin was allowed to touch her. We were dating over two years before she laid down next to me, closed her eyes and put her head down by my hand. She did this several times before I could be convinced that I wouldn't be bitten or scratched. Darrin would watch me cautiously put my hand on her head and he'd smile and say "See. She's sweet."
Lest I forget I had to be invited, I was swiped at and shown ears pulled back into a point with a muffled growl when I tried on my own. OK Paloma, you let ME know.
She was willful too. Darrin lived in a small studio apartment for a while and to save space he got himself a full sized loft bed that was about 5 feet off of the floor. Though Paloma was used to sleeping with him, he was ready to say goodbye to the fur that his bedmate left there through the night. Not long after he got the bed he found himself being awakened by the sound of some rustling on the ladder. Sure enough, Paloma had had enough of being denied her rightful spot, and from then on slept with him atop the mighty loft. She had a way of marching around on the bed that earned her the nickname "Stompsy McNeedlefeet".
After our engagement Darrin and I sequestered Paloma in the office and propped the door open just enough for her little nose to peer out and smell the two new cats who were at first happy to meet the new co-habitant. They sure did cuss each other out for a number of days, then all were turned loose in the house to either get along or work it out. And they did. Sort of. Paloma hissed and growled for months, then they all adopted a sort of "I don't see you" and "you don't see" me way of passing each other in the common areas.
We've had a great three years together, then in July of this year Paloma was diagnosed with kidney disease and lived the next three months on borrowed time. She was so sick at the onset, then proceeded to fool us into thinking she was better than ever and would outlive us all. I'm so glad we had that time with her happy again. Feisty and loving, and always wanting to be wherever Darrin was. But if she couldn't be in his lap, she was more than happy to take mine (even sharing my outstretched legs a few times with Mulder - pretending she wasn't there of course, but still).
I could pet her whenever I wanted, and I kissed her on top of her head every day during her iv fluid treatments. I could even pick her up at any time which was something I never thought she'd let me do.
We lost Paloma Monday, October 23rd, and after being strong for a few days, I think I just realized today that she's actually gone and I'm really sad. It had taken a long time for Paloma and me. A long time for her before she felt safe enough with me to show me the same type of belly up love that she had for Darrin, which I was so honored to have finally earned.
I really loved her so much. And today I was thinking about her and a few things came to mind that were so uniquely her.
The way her fangs hung below her chin so that you could feel them if you were scratching her under there.
Boy did she love to come out on the patio with us at night and enjoy our outdoor firepit.
Her insistance on drinking from the bathroom sink and the perpetual drop of water that she always had on her chin.
How she would let Darrin do whatever he wanted with her and she'd put up with it (to a point). Things like raising her up under her arms and having her do a happy dance; or playing "baby" and holding her just like one until she fell asleep in his arms.
She liked to eat things with a good sauce, be it barbeque or spaghetti.
Her willingness to be spooned during sleeptime where she'd let you put your arm around her and hold her feet in your hands.
She would "bless you" with chirpy noises, squinty eyes and clacky teeth whenever we would sneeze or cough. She really would. Every time, even if she was half asleep.
Paloma had the LOUDEST purr I've ever heard.
It used to keep me awake, and now I'd like to have just one more dose of it if I could.
Paloma was an older lady, part Siamese and part tabby with beautiful blue eyes whose lids were heavily shaded in white, making her look like a little bespectacled ghost when it was dark. Her fur was mostly white with black and gray tabby markings and a ringed tail that never stopped darting around feverisly, even when she was resting.
"Don't pet her!" Were the first words out of Darrin's mouth to any visitor. Even if she draped herself all over your legs you were warned that if you did succumb to her flirtations and put your hand down to touch her, you'd pull up a bloody stump.
She wasn't "mean" although that's how we had to describe her to my young neice and nephew to keep their limbs safe; she was just quirky and untrusting. Her eyes were a little jiggly in their sockets and I can count the number of times when her pupils weren't dialed out to ten. She needed to build trust before anyone other than Darrin was allowed to touch her. We were dating over two years before she laid down next to me, closed her eyes and put her head down by my hand. She did this several times before I could be convinced that I wouldn't be bitten or scratched. Darrin would watch me cautiously put my hand on her head and he'd smile and say "See. She's sweet."
Lest I forget I had to be invited, I was swiped at and shown ears pulled back into a point with a muffled growl when I tried on my own. OK Paloma, you let ME know.
She was willful too. Darrin lived in a small studio apartment for a while and to save space he got himself a full sized loft bed that was about 5 feet off of the floor. Though Paloma was used to sleeping with him, he was ready to say goodbye to the fur that his bedmate left there through the night. Not long after he got the bed he found himself being awakened by the sound of some rustling on the ladder. Sure enough, Paloma had had enough of being denied her rightful spot, and from then on slept with him atop the mighty loft. She had a way of marching around on the bed that earned her the nickname "Stompsy McNeedlefeet".
After our engagement Darrin and I sequestered Paloma in the office and propped the door open just enough for her little nose to peer out and smell the two new cats who were at first happy to meet the new co-habitant. They sure did cuss each other out for a number of days, then all were turned loose in the house to either get along or work it out. And they did. Sort of. Paloma hissed and growled for months, then they all adopted a sort of "I don't see you" and "you don't see" me way of passing each other in the common areas.
We've had a great three years together, then in July of this year Paloma was diagnosed with kidney disease and lived the next three months on borrowed time. She was so sick at the onset, then proceeded to fool us into thinking she was better than ever and would outlive us all. I'm so glad we had that time with her happy again. Feisty and loving, and always wanting to be wherever Darrin was. But if she couldn't be in his lap, she was more than happy to take mine (even sharing my outstretched legs a few times with Mulder - pretending she wasn't there of course, but still).
I could pet her whenever I wanted, and I kissed her on top of her head every day during her iv fluid treatments. I could even pick her up at any time which was something I never thought she'd let me do.
We lost Paloma Monday, October 23rd, and after being strong for a few days, I think I just realized today that she's actually gone and I'm really sad. It had taken a long time for Paloma and me. A long time for her before she felt safe enough with me to show me the same type of belly up love that she had for Darrin, which I was so honored to have finally earned.
I really loved her so much. And today I was thinking about her and a few things came to mind that were so uniquely her.
The way her fangs hung below her chin so that you could feel them if you were scratching her under there.
Boy did she love to come out on the patio with us at night and enjoy our outdoor firepit.
Her insistance on drinking from the bathroom sink and the perpetual drop of water that she always had on her chin.
How she would let Darrin do whatever he wanted with her and she'd put up with it (to a point). Things like raising her up under her arms and having her do a happy dance; or playing "baby" and holding her just like one until she fell asleep in his arms.
She liked to eat things with a good sauce, be it barbeque or spaghetti.
Her willingness to be spooned during sleeptime where she'd let you put your arm around her and hold her feet in your hands.
She would "bless you" with chirpy noises, squinty eyes and clacky teeth whenever we would sneeze or cough. She really would. Every time, even if she was half asleep.
Paloma had the LOUDEST purr I've ever heard.
It used to keep me awake, and now I'd like to have just one more dose of it if I could.
posted by MimiLolly at 1:56 PM
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