Raising plants, children, grandchildren and animals has occupied roughly 49 years of my life. I ask myself: why would I be excited to raise a kitten? After all, there's the litter box, there's litter-scatter, there's the smell, there's toys on the floor, another animal to tend, and worst of all accomodating our squirrel-crazy dog to this little furry creature who looks so much like a squirrel. Is it like going over the next mountain, just because it's there? I haven't ever raised a kitten so I need have that life experience? Is it nurturing hormones suddenly alive in a body that, by all other measures, has stopped making hormones? Is it a romantic notion to rev up my marriage?
All these questions began when my granddaughter walked around the corner with a seven- week old, long-haired tabby kitten at my birthday party, and put her in my lap. While I have been considering a kitten, actually having her in my arms (squirming, none too happy) was another matter indeed. Now, four days later, I am hooked, and the nagging questions and their fictional answers slowly dissolve, like the snow on this sunny day.
We're going through this together. My husband, the dog and Ila, whose new hiding place is behind the toilet in the second bathroom on one of my soft shawls. And yes, the dog is utterly convinced she's a squirrel. He spotted her through the new pen/fence I've got across the door for the first time today, and when she disappeared into her hiding place he assumed she was outside, and ran barking and squealing to the door to go chase squirrels. And I've already bought litter that doesn't track so much, and yes, a catnip mouse. Hook, line and sinker.
We are approaching Solstice, and even now dark shadows stripe my study. I think of Ila as a seed who will grow, change, require ongoing care, and please me, almost every time I see her. She will be a funny distraction as the sun slowly returns and warms the garden, and by the time the parsley is up, she'll be wandering around outside. She will deal with dogs, other cats, busy days, quiet days. That she is a "rescue" cat says little about my new commitment; mostly it's about inviting new life into my aging life, smiling at her antics, gaining her trust, seeing yet another being come into maturity in her own way. Not to mention the comfort her companionship will offer as time goes on.
And then there is the quiet independence that cats radiate. No leashes, no commands, no barking, just a warm observer who offers herself on her own terms. And oh yes, her beauty. She has 6 toes on each foot, white socks and fur sprouting out of her ears. Already I can imagine her aloof elegance, a quality I've never been able to cultivate.
Her name could have been Mittens, or Rowdy, or anything else, really. But I've always loved the name Ila, which was my maternal aunt's name. I never met her and never even heard one story about her. There might be one picture of her somewhere, but I don't have it. So that sound, Ila, will live on in our family, and bring with it all the blessings a growing kitten can offer.
Is this a trend? By next winter will I have chickens, dwarf goats and two more dogs installed? My husband assures me this is the last animal (for awhile). So it's doubtful the chore list will be extended. But taking her on says something to my heart: I'm not too old to take on new life. My nurturing spirit is alive and well, and the playing's not over yet.
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