A Purrrfect Companion

     It was February 2002.  I had just recently moved in with my sweetheart, gotten my first teaching job, and watched (like the rest of America) as our world was forever altered on September of the previous year.  **Not to mention we had lost George Harrison of the Beatles, but that is a story for another day!**  Needless to say, I was feeling TOTALLY overwhelmed by all of the randomness and change in my life.  Steve and I had decided we wanted to have a Super Bowl party in our new apartment and just RELAX!  We had also been talking about making another life altering change and adopting....well, a cat anyways.  This was Super Bowl Sunday and my kitty fever was at its peak!  I asked, no I BEGGED, Steve to call PAWS (our local shelter) and ask if we could come in.  He assured me it would be a no go---after all, who wasn't home getting ready to watch the Pats win their first championship?  Well...he relented and dialed the number that I had so hastily written down for him.  It rang, then rang again...then I heard Steve say, "Hello?".  AH HA~  Of course, I was right :0) 

     My parents were coming soon, so I couldn't leave the apartment.  Steve was told that if we HURRIED, she would stay so we could take a peek at the cats.  I told him that I trusted him and would be happy with whatever kitten he brought home.  I emphasized, KITTEN!  It wasn't more than 15 minutes after he left that I got the call.  "Kim, she is GORGEOUS.  She is a cutie who is SO soft and absolutely cuddly."  Yes, he said those very words.  I knew there was a "but" coming...so I waited.  "She isn't exactly what you talked about though, but can we get her anyways?'  "Ok, Stephen (I always called him this when irritated), exactly WHAT about her isn't what we talked about?"..."Well, hun, she is 4 years old.  Not a kitten". 

     I knew by the way he was getting somewhat emotional on the phone, she was a keeper.  She came home about 2 hours before the game and checked out her new surroundings.  She gave the abode a once over and gave me a "this'll do" kinda glance.  I smiled.  Yep, she had a tude just like her adoptive Mama.   I was absolutely, irretrievably, and forever....in love with her.  She almost immediately seemed to know my moods, what to do, when to do it, and when to stay clear!  I had no idea HOW much I would come to love this little "fluff n' nutter" until a few years later.

   Fast forward.  December 2005.  I won't go into HUGE depth, but needless to say--Steve and I had reached the end of our marital rope.  Lace was there for the screaming, crying, and even the deafening silence.  When things got too intense, she would even stand in between the 2 combatants as if to create a wall of civility.  I realized, she was a child in the middle of a house that was now being divided.  She loved us both---her time in front of the heater with Daddy was legendary.  The cuddles with me, an absolute delight for the litttle girl.  Her being dragged around the house by Daddy inside a Payless boot box with a string attached, I am sure were some of her favorite moments EVER.  Now, the moment had come.  She was going to have to leave one of us behind.  Her happy home had been split. 

     I am going to be crass for a moment, but I always say this, "Steve got his 'ho, I took the cat!"  She and I had been through too much together to separate now.  Not to mention, in his current state of mind, Steve didn't even seem to care about her even most basic care, so she packed up with me and we moved in with my parents.  She was apprehensive at first, too many other animals and people.  She was simply not used to it.  She learned.  Papa gives her cuddles, Gramma gives her treats, Jess plays with her, Matt strokes her, and Auntie Pam....well, she introduced her to the love of her life---BACON!  This wasn't going to be as bad as she thought!

     I did get another job shortly after, and we moved---again. This time, back to Portland.  This was the time of our lives!  We lounged together, we talked, and we ate and ate---well, then we ate some more (post divorce is hardest on the kids :0)  )  It was then that I got the news that the earaches I had been dealing with required some specialized attention.  I needed to go and see an ENT for further eval.  He didn't see me for more than 4 minutes when he said, "did you know you have a tumor on your neck?".  Huh?  Tumor?  I was thinking, in my best Arnold voice "it's not a tumor!".  He was right, I was wrong.  It was indeed a tumor and was going to have to be biopsied.  argh!  Then I got even more great news a few days later.  My job was being eliminated and I was going to be forced to move.  Yet again!  Thank God, not until summer though.  I kept thinking to myself, "Jesus Christ, just ONE thing at a time, k!?".  I had gotten the biopsy....all was good.  The date for surgery set.  Fun, fun!  I broke down I don't know how many times on the side of a furry little girl.  She listened, meowed....and demanded to be fed.

     I went into surgery at Maine Med on March 22, 2008.  Our plan,  surgery on Friday.  A few days of recovery, then celebrate Mom's birthday on the 29th.  I got to call mom and dad from recovery.  Mom's words to me, "Lacey is sitting her all content...just relax.  Your girl is fine."  All was good. Things were going according to plan until Tuesday.  I will NEVER forget that day for as long as I live.  Dad's doctor calls with the results of a biopsy he had about a week earlier.  Cancer.  That word that I had heard 2 times before in my life and was like the ultimate swear word.  I cannot say that we didn't see it coming, but it was still a blow.  My grandfather had the same cancer, his brother, and my great-grandfather.  This was different.  This was the Pookster.  This was my Dad!  Mom and I didn't cry, but looked straight ahead and said, "ok, when do you start treatment."  It was just that mater of fact.  It was bad, but that was that.  As her usual, Lacey demanded to be fed in the middle of this emotional scene.

     Wednesday.  The reality of what had happened to Dad had set in.  So had my painkillers, so I was emotional and loopy.  The phone rings.  It was the surgeon.  "Kim, we got the results of the pathology report.  You have what is called Papillary Thyroid Cancer."  "Huh?"  I literally said that.  He kindly repeated himself.  "Um, but the biopsy was normal?"  "Yes, on the large tumor.  It was the 2 smaller ones that were cancerous.".  Lucky me!  I am totally devoid of emotion at this time.  I can't even fake cry.  I am SO over tears.  Then, I had to tell my parents.  Mom started crying first.  Yep, that brought me to reality.  Lacey's response?  You guessed it.  She demanded to be fed.

     I am not telling you all of these seemingly unrelated stories to "purge" so to speak.  I am giving you a glimpse into the dynamic relationship Lacey and I share.  She snaps me back into the real world.  She makes me realize...guess what, life goes on!  "So freakin' what, you got cancer---I gotta EAT!"  She has taught me some of the most valuable lessons of my adult life.  Humor.  It works.  Laughter.  Even in the most difficult of times, isn't a crime.  Most of all, make sure to eat.  It would be a horrendous thing if we stopped enjoying the things we love just because the situation seems a little tough.  Not bad for a cat, if I say so myself.