About 16 years ago I was a volunteer receptionist at the HIV Day Center.  Tina Tomasso Jennings was the Director.  Whenever her husband called, he asked to speak to "That Woman".  This, of course, indicated that Tina was the special person in his life.  Well, my special person since 1994 is my kitty cat, named Sneaky,  whom I often refer to as "That Kitty". 

 

Sneaky was born in my home on North Borthwick -- a neighborhood that had lots of stray cats.  Every day I fed at least seven of them on my front porch.  The interesting thing is the fact that I never went looking for them -- THEY FOUND ME.  One cat I was especially fond of was a "tuxedo cat" whom the neighbors said was "wild."  I named her Blackie.  At one time, teenagers who had lived in the house next door trapped Blackie in the basement and tormented her.  Hence she would have nothing to do with people.  She did, however, come into my house; even though she would not let me pet her.  Occasionally I would quietly sneak behind her and pet her -- most of the time whenever I came near her she would run.  One of the neighbors was astounded that Blackie even came into my house.  "That cat is wild," she would exclaim.  When I shared with her that not only did Blackie come into my house, but she had a couple of litters of kitties there, she said: "I'm impressed."  Cats instinctively know who loves them.

 

I would take the newborn kitties to a pet shop downtown.  They put them in their store window and sold them.  They did not pay anyone for the kitties -- they gave me the satisfaction of knowing they would be given a good home.  It is deplorable how animals are abused -- they are loving creatures.  Their love is unconditional.  They know nothing of prejudice.  They love the person(s) who love them. 

 

Shortly before I moved in 1994, Blackie's daughter had a litter of kitties.  She had them behind the bathtub -- and when it was time, she proudly brought them out to the living room by the couch.  One kitty in the litter, who looked like her grandmother -- a tuxedo kitty -- black with white under her chin, white whiskers, and white paws, I especially became attached to, and decided not to take her to the downtown pet shop.  One day I came home and there was That Kitty on the front porch -- I thought she was in the house when I left that morning.  Hence I named her "Sneaky".  When it came time for me to move, I could only take one cat with me.  My upstairs neighbor wanted to keep Sneaky, but I told him that she was going with me. 

 

For financial reasons, I rented a room in a dumpy house on NE Knott.  At first Sneaky had the run of the house.  However, the owner of the house married a Jamaican woman who said that cats made her physically ill.  And cats were automatically afraid of her.  Sneaky would hide out in the basement whenever this woman was around.  So, I had to leave her in my small room when I was out.  The room was situated on the second floor with my window by the roof of the front porch.  Sneaky would go in and out of the window onto the roof. I promised her that someday she would have a back yard of her own where she could go in and out.  I visualized it, complete with a sliding glass door.  And I knew that she understood me when I said that.

 

One day I was petting, and talking to, two neighborhood kitties in the driveway.  Sneaky was on the roof and saw me.  She stood there and meowed over and over -- she was like a jealous wife beckoning me home.  And when she got old enough to have male neighborhood cats prowling around -- I took her to a vet and had her "fixed" so she couldn't get pregnant.  I didn't like doing that -- but the downtown pet shop was no longer in business, and I did not want to bring more cats into the world without a home.

 

During this time I had a car.  Throughout the day, when I was gone, many cars parked in front of the house, coming and going.  One day the man in the room next to mine said, about Sneaky: "That cat is smart.  All day long cars come and go and not a sound comes from your room. Yet,the  second when YOUR car pulls up, Sneaky starts meowing."  She recognized the distinct sound of my car over all others.  And, as soon as I opened the door of my room, she came right out, glad to see me.  

 

We lived in that room from 1994  until early 1998 when I moved to an apartment near the Rose Quarter.  The apartment was situated in the back part of the building and outside my window it was partioned off, where Sneaky could go in and out through the window.  She loved to sit under the bushes.  We were there for seven years.  As she got older, she was unable to jump onto the wall and into the window.  My "sliding door" promise had not yet been fulfilled. 

 

The people in the apartment across the hall had cats.  Whenever our doors were opened, and the neighbor cats were in the hall, Sneaky would be very friendly with them.  One day, however, a cat was meandering outside our apartment in the back partition of the building.  The window was opened.  This cat was twice Sneaky's size.  Without hesitation, Sneaky jumped up and tore out that window, angry, and hissed at the cat.  (She expressed the same jealousy as when she was on the roof on NE Knott, with me talking to outside cats).  Whenever that cat came around, Sneaky would do the same and I would have to loudly clap my hands and say "Sneaky!" and call her back in.  Fortunately, the two cats never had a physical fight.

 

In February, 2005, I collapsed on the street.  My heart stopped beating.  Someone with a cell phone called 911.  The paramedics got there just in time to get my heart going again.  On March 8 I had double quadruple bypass open heart surgery.  My friend, Daniel (who produces my television and podcast programs) -- along with his friend Greg -- came and got Sneaky (they had to chase her all around the apartment -- cats don't like changes), and took her to Daniel's home in the Wilshire area of NE Portland.  Daniel had two cats.  At first Sneaky hid out -- and hissed at Daniel and his cats.  When I returned home, they brought Sneaky back. 

 

Not being able to work, and living only on a small fixed income of Social Security, God opened up an apartment for me downtown in a subsidized HUD apartment.  It was not conducive for a cat -- a nice apartment, it was small -- on an upper floor.  There Sneaky wouldn't even have a ledge to sit on -- not even a porch roof.  Consequently, Daniel took her to live with him.  I was able to see her when I went to his house to tape the television programs.  She adjusted, became fond of Daniel and Greg (who housesitted when Daniel was out of town).  She became friendly with the other cats.  AND -- THIS HOUSE HAD THE BEAUTIFUL FENCED IN BACK YARD AND SLIDING DOOR THAT I HAD PROMISED SNEAKY YEARS BEFORE.  She could go in and out at will, and loved to sit under the bushes. 

 

On the evening of my 68th birthday, when I got home at 9 pm, there was a message on my voice mail from Daniel.  "Sneaky is dying" he said.  She went fast.  Somewhere between 1 am, when Daniel last gave her some water, and 5 am, Sneaky passed on.  She was 12 years old.  Daniel and Greg made up a box with flowers for her, I also put a couple of flowers in the box with her, and she was laid to rest in the back yard, under the bushes -- with a little tombstone that Greg made for her.  We cried and said our good-byes.  I am still hurting -- and as I type this tears are starting to flow.

 

30 years ago, in his book THE EYE OF THE STORM,  Joseph P. Bishop wrote:  "Grief is a private kind of pain, each loss in life bringing its own shape and texture; ... if it is given its way for a season amid solitude and silence, it has great restorative power.  It can, of course be disguised as anger and guilt, or it can bear down on the heart with its awful weight until it crushes us.  ... if we can, by some grace, accept it, grief can begin to work its healing in us."

 

Someone once said:  "There is no love without sorrow, and no sorrow without love."

 

My longtime friend, Penny Michaels, sent this to me (author unknown):

 

"There is a bridge connecting Heaven and Earth.  It is called The Rainbow Bridge because of it's many colors.  Just this side of the Rainbow Bridge there is a land of meadows, hills and valleys with lush green grass.  When a beloved pet dies, the pet goes to this place  There is always food, water and warm spring weather.  The old and frail animals are young again.  Those who were maimed are made whole again.  They play all day with each other.

 

"There is only one thing missing.  They are not with their special person who loved them on Earth.  So each day they run and play until the day comes when one suddenly stops playing and looks up.  The nose twitches!  The ears are up!  The eyes are staring.  And this one suddenly runs from the group! 

 

"You have been seen, and when you and your special friend meet, you take him or her in your arms and embrace.  Your face is kissed again and again and again, and you look once more into the eyes of your trusting friend.  Then you cross The Rainbow Bridge together, never again to be separated."

 

And when I cross over, That Kitty -- the one who recognized my car when it drove up in front of the NE Knott House -- the one who knew my footsteps when they came down the hall in the other aparment -- who was right there to greet me when I opened the door -- yes, That Kitty will, once again, recognize my presence as I draw near, and be there to greet me. 

 

copyright 2006                         SISTER PAULA NIELSEN

                                                       PO Box 2206, Portland, OR 97208