I couldn't let today pass without mentioning a milestone. Since my dog and cats were generally found or adopted, I only have a rough idea of their birth months, although I'm pretty sure of the years. I only have an actual birthdate for one--who happens to be the oldest. Spock was born April 6, 1988--right between my birthday and my ex' (we were a week apart in age). Spock came from our family farm in Owen County. White is dominant in cats, and the farm tended to have quite a few who were either solid white or white with triangular spots on their heads over the years. It's funny, I hadn't really thought about it, but the farm is long sold, my great-grandparents and grandmother have been dead for over a decade, but Spock reminds me of the home and loved ones lost.
I remember when he was tiny and we were in the basement trying to decide which two cats we'd take. We had the whole litter of white kittens (and one random black one) scampering about. We'd already picked out the black smoke, a little princess with Angora-length hair. All the others were white with grey spots on their heads. I kept catching one in particular who had one blue eye and one green one. Since I thought he might be partially deaf, I kept putting him back until he'd come running back two or three times, and then I decided he was fated to go home. He isn't deaf, although he is quite stupid, but he has a wonderfully sweet disposition. This is a little ironic, given his name; he got it from his pointed ears and the fact that his spot looked like the 'Star Trek' symbol you see on the uniforms or in later shows, the communicator badges. Ah, to be named by sci-fi geeks! Anyway, the grey on his head has faded nearly completely; it's hard to believe how dark it once was; only a couple of grey hairs remain. But otherwise, he's still playful, still loving, in all his stupid glory. He has been my mainstay through so much turmoil in my life. When I divorced, he was the only thing I absolutely had to have with me; my ex had picked out his sister, Ashtoreth, and I'd picked Spock, and from that point they were bonded pretty much to each of us, so when I left the littermates were separated (which is how I came to get Buns, because Spock rode around on my shoulder for a month crying like a parrot with his world rocked.) I understand Ashtoreth died a few years ago, I believe due to cancer. As each year passes, I worry about how hard it'll be when Spock passes. But for now, I'm hoping to enjoy every moment left that I can. I still love to watch him play with a flashlight or with mirrored reflections. He follows me from room to room, calling me to bed or making sure he has my lap when I'm sitting. He has such a strong purr, and his white fur is as soft as a rabbit's. He's one of the few cats I've ever known that truly love to be cuddled. Every now and then he 'loses' me and just howls disconsolately. I have it on good authority that he does it when I'm gone, too. He always greets me at the door when I get home. It's those little quirks of personality--and every cat is unique--that mean so much. Most people never really see that kind of devotion in any other creature. I'll always treasure the time we've had.
So, happy sweet sixteenth, Spocker. May you have continued health and happiness.
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