Almost 14 years ago, a neighbor had come over to my house and asked if I wanted to adopt a cat from her. His name was D'Mitri and he was approximately 10 months old and an adorable orange tabby kitten. My children, Josh & Steph, already knew him as they had recently pet sit D'mitri and really loved him. The previous owner told me that they adopted him from the Denver Dumb Friends League and although he was cute, he was mean to her daughters and bit them. She said that if I didn't adopt him, they would return him to DDFL. Nice, huh?
I knew what would happen if he were returned. Most cats over the age of 6 months have an extremely hard time of being adopted, not to mention with a reputation of being a biter. I really could not let that happen. He came to live with us and we quickly discovered that not only was he the sweetest cat, but he was probably the coolest cat we had ever known. My daughter always said he was like the James Dean of cats. The only time that he ever tried to bite was if you messed with his feet, his previous owners had him declawed, so he was tender there. Their daughters would pull his tail and squeeze his paws! Hello?? Duh! I personally don't blame him!
D'Mitri (or Demon) as we nicknamed him, because he was supposed to be so horrribly mean, moved in with us and never looked back. I think he knew we loved him and would not pull his tail or mess with his feet.
Demon owned the neighborhood! He would sunbathe on the driveway spread eagle, cruise the neighborhood and walk into other peoples homes and take a nap! He would sit in the middle of the street and almost dare cars to stop for him. He had no fear of dogs and over the years would come home with the battle scars to prove it. I would tell him that he was living on borrowed lives, he didn't seem to care.
It was over a year ago that when he went outside, he did not come home that same night as he always did. We thought for sure that a coyote had finally gotten him. My daughter had called me and told me that he finally showed up after being gone for almost 4 days, this time with half of his hind end missing. She took him to our vet who cleaned and stiched him up. His wandering days were over, no more going outside for Demon! He was not a happy camper.
When Michael and I moved in together, I brought Demon to live with us. He quickly wormed his way into everyone's heart. This crotchedy old cat with such cattitude! Demon also became especially fond of Michael. He would often sleep on top of Mike's chest and poor Mike would be stuck there because Demon was curled up and sleeping so soundly.
D'Mitri passed away last month. The worst day for me. Mike and I were able to be home with him and hold him while he passed. Afterwards, Mike, Taylor and Jordan buried D'Mitri in the back yard, right under a beautiful tree in the corner. We plan to plant a garden this summer around him. I have owned many animals in my lifetime and through them all, certain ones stick out. My first cat, Michelobe was as unique as D'Mitri and they both happened to be orange tabbies.
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Memories of my mother
After a conversation with an old friend yesterday, I began to think about my mother. I lost my mom in 2002 to complications from Multiple Sclerosis, or at least that was the diagnosis that had been given to her in 1990. She had suffered from this horrific disease for 23 years. It was a few years back during a conversation with another friend who has a vast medical background that I realized that my mother probably had Guillain Barre syndrome. Whatever the name, it was not a pleasant disease.
When I think about my mom, I truly cannot remember a time when she did not have a smile on her face. She was unique in that she very rarely met someone that she did not like.
My mom did not have the easiest of lives either. She was raised by a single mom, and during the 1930's and 1940's, this was extremely uncommon. She never knew her father and that ate at her soul her entire life. The one thing that she wanted more than anything else in life was to meet her father, not a lot to ask for if you think about it. She came very close to meeting him when I was just a baby, but somehow that meeting fell through. Growing up when she would talk about him, that was when I would see great sadness in her eyes.
My parents moved to Lawson when I was 13 years old. I never saw my mom happier than when she lived in that tiny little one stop sign town. She loved Lawson, with all of her heart. After I graduated and left home, she ran for Mayor. She was elected as the first female Mayor of Lawson, and she took great pride in that. She worked extremely hard for the residents and the town. This, as I look back, was the peak of my mother's life, she was the happiest and most fulfilled during that time period.
My last conversation with her was on a Sunday afternoon. I would usually call her twice a week on Sundays and Wednesdays. That following Wednesday I was busy working on a garden and thought I was too tired and would wait to call her the next day. I received a phone call the next evening from the Ray County Coroner, telling me that my mother had died. My world collapsed at that time.
Eight years have passed since I buried my mom, and I can now look back and often smile. But, very rarely a day goes by when she is not in my thoughts. What I would not give for one last conversation, one last hug, one last cup of coffee at the kitchen table. So, if you're reading this, my one piece of advice is this; to acknowledge, appreciate and validate those in your life that you love and care about. You never know what tomorrow might bring.
When I think about my mom, I truly cannot remember a time when she did not have a smile on her face. She was unique in that she very rarely met someone that she did not like.
My mom did not have the easiest of lives either. She was raised by a single mom, and during the 1930's and 1940's, this was extremely uncommon. She never knew her father and that ate at her soul her entire life. The one thing that she wanted more than anything else in life was to meet her father, not a lot to ask for if you think about it. She came very close to meeting him when I was just a baby, but somehow that meeting fell through. Growing up when she would talk about him, that was when I would see great sadness in her eyes.
My parents moved to Lawson when I was 13 years old. I never saw my mom happier than when she lived in that tiny little one stop sign town. She loved Lawson, with all of her heart. After I graduated and left home, she ran for Mayor. She was elected as the first female Mayor of Lawson, and she took great pride in that. She worked extremely hard for the residents and the town. This, as I look back, was the peak of my mother's life, she was the happiest and most fulfilled during that time period.
My last conversation with her was on a Sunday afternoon. I would usually call her twice a week on Sundays and Wednesdays. That following Wednesday I was busy working on a garden and thought I was too tired and would wait to call her the next day. I received a phone call the next evening from the Ray County Coroner, telling me that my mother had died. My world collapsed at that time.
Eight years have passed since I buried my mom, and I can now look back and often smile. But, very rarely a day goes by when she is not in my thoughts. What I would not give for one last conversation, one last hug, one last cup of coffee at the kitchen table. So, if you're reading this, my one piece of advice is this; to acknowledge, appreciate and validate those in your life that you love and care about. You never know what tomorrow might bring.
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