On Friday Lili woke up asking about Bob. Until recently, Bob was a long-standing feline member of the Hansen household. I may be confusing his origins, since there have been an estimated 87 cats, dogs, hamsters, cockatiels, and various rodents shared amongst the Hansen and Reider households over the years, but I believe that Bob (and Baggio, his corresponding black & white brother) were originally Mama's cats, inherited by Grandma Marlys, and then re-inherited by Grandma Kool when Grandma Marlys (Grandma Kool's mom, and Mama's grandma) passed away (insert feline rescue flowchart here). "Bob" was one of Lili's first words, and many a summer afternoon in Grandma Kool's studio apartment was spent toddling up and down and up and down the long hallway, seeking out Bob in his usual hiding spots. Since Bob passed away, Lili and Grandma Kool have fairly regular conversations regarding his whereabouts.
Lili: "Bob?"
Grandma Kool: "Bob's all gone".
L: "Bindy?" (in reference to Kitty #2)
GK: "Bindy's under the bed!"
L: "Bob?"
GK: "Bob's all gone."
When Lili asks about Bob, her persistence is so astounding, and her incomprehension so pure, that I sometimes have to bite my lip to keep from crying.
Like most women, I was wholly unprepared for motherhood. From the very beginning. I was unprepared for how much I would dislike pregnancy and, on the flip side, I was unprepared for how much I would cherish nursing my daughter. I was unprepared for the all-encompassing and, at times, all-consuming love I have for my child, a love unlike anything I'd ever felt for another person. More than anything, though, and what you'll never stumble upon in the pages of "What to Expect When You're Expecting", I was unprepared for the heartbreak of motherhood. The vast and varying shades of heartbreak that render emotional fortitude useless. The heartbreaking joy of seeing my brave girl begin to laugh through her tears. The heartbreaking pride of watching Lili reach out and tightly, but oh-so-gently, wrap her arms around the neck of her mama, my partner. The incomprehension in her enormous blue eyes, and my heartbreaking inability to protect her from so many truths that will become clear soon enough.
The heartbreak of Bob.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
2 comments:
And typing through my tears, I know the learning curve continues and the torch is being passed.....
Baggio (Taz) and Bob (Nike) first came into the Reider/Hansen family in 1996 at ripe age of 8 weeks. I went to the humane society to get one kitten. I felt, at the wise age of sixteen, that having a cat was the best thing for me, having grown up with lots of cats. I was an expert!
When I got there there was this small little black cat with white markings on him all by himself in his paper lined cage (bob). I knew this lone kitten was the one I wanted. So I took him to the small room to play with him and when I went to leave there was another kitten (baggio) left in the cage...Of course it broke my heart to separate them (a trait I am sure comes from grandma) and following the rules of the Reider/Hansen household one should never be alone and always travel in packs. Even when there are no beds left we will find more. So instead of leaving with one kitten I left with two. Kismet...is what that moment was. Every night these two kitten boys would curl up paws intertwined and sleep in one big kitten pile, which they did their whole life.
One sad day, less than a year of having them, I found out that I could not keep them. Baggio as a young kitten and long into adulthood had some sort of aversion to litter boxes and loved closets and fabric, bags, really anything that was not a litter box was fair game. So needless to say they were kicked out of my place and found their way to Kay's apartment in St. Paul. This was intended to be a temporary "foster" arrangement. Well, needless to say, there is no temporary in my family when it comes to cats. Especially when it came to Grandma. This home is where they lived out their lives.
That was my BOB!
Post a Comment