Snopek - Great cat stories: memorable tales of remarkable cats

We sprinkled Simons ashes beneath his favourite cedar hedge, where the birds he loved to watch still nestle in fragrant safety. In January 2004, Simons old friend Cody joined him at the rainbow bridge. Every spring, the scent of lilac blossoms is rich with memories of our other special old cat.

Our cats have been with us through a lot of living. These days the kingdom of Simon and Cody belongs to Tabitha, Mylos, Sophie and Bryan, and Ive no doubt other cats will pass through our home in years to come. But Simon was special. He was the first cat of my adult life, a link between the carefree world of youth and the responsibilities of maturity. The best things in my life all came to me after I opened my home and my heart to an ugly cat that no one else wanted.

For further information, see the following websites:

Pacific Animal Therapy Society of Sidney, BC: http://patspets.ca/wordpress/

Pedigreed cat fancy: http://www.fanciers.com/

Reporting or locating lost animals: http://www.petlynx.net and http://www.strays.ca

SCAT Street Cat Rescue Program Inc, of Saskatoon, SK: http://www.streetcat.ca

Simon Teakettle: http://www.simonteakettle.com

If you would like to help support the cats of Parliament Hill, please contact:

Ren Chartrand

1207-160 Charlotte St.

Ottawa, Ontario

K1N 8Z5

CHAPTER

Cats seem to go on the principle that it never does any harm to ask for what you want.

Joseph Wood Krutch

Mid-life is a time of change. Some people find themselves letting go of parts of their lives that no longer fit. Some discover a sudden yearning to fulfill long-forgotten dreams. And for some people its a matter of adapting to the unexpected, both good and bad.

Barb Taylor of Cumberland, Ontario, didnt choose change in her life; change chose her. It began with a dreamto build a new home. This decision was not entered into lightly; Barb can count on one hand the number of times shes moved in 56 years. At 19, I hopped a plane and headed west from England, she says. I told my parents I was going to stay in Canada for two years whether I liked it or not. That was 1968. Ive never looked back.

Barbs life was good, but busy. Her husbands work kept him away from home much of the time. Until recently, Barbs job as an administrative assistant in a high-tech company had kept her preoccupied with the lives of others. The hours were long, and the pay was short, she says wryly. When she left her job, she was finally able to put her energy toward managing the life she shared with her husband and Benji, her Bichon Frise dog. She was settled and content, looking forward to the next phase of her life and marriage.

My life was my garden, my ordinary, everyday stuff, and my Benji, she says with a laugh. I am so boring. But change was stalking her. Around that time, Barbs husbands business partner passed away, leaving a beautiful piece of property overlooking the Ottawa River. His widow wanted to sell it to them. Barbs first reaction was resistance. It was too expensive and much farther away than we wanted to move, recalls Barb. But it was gorgeous. And it got the building bug going in us. Once the idea bit, it hung on. Her husband broke down her initial defences, and soon Barb caught his excitement. They found a different lot, in an area they liked and in the price range theyd hoped for, and started making plans to build their dream home.

It was an exciting and exhausting time. Moving out of the house theyd lived in for more than 20 years was more difficult in every way than Barb had imagined it would be. A lot of living had gone on within its walls; theyd been the backdrop for memories both good and badthe whole range of experiences that make up a life together. She knew it would be some time before the new house, beautiful as it was, would feel like home to them. Finally the last nail was in place, and in February of 1999 they moved in. She looked forward to quiet evenings, enjoying some peace and contentment reconnecting with each other.

But before Barb had even finished unpacking all the boxes, she was blindsided by a stunning twist: her husband of 28 years left her. The shock was devastating. Everything she believed was called into question, and she found herself withdrawing, trying to hide from the pain. It was hard, she remembers. This wasnt supposed to be my dream house; it was supposed to be our dream house. Instead, she found herself in a new house, a new neighbourhood and alone.

Except for Benji, her lifeline. He was a cuddler, says Barb, a very human sort of dog. Recurrent knee problems had made Benji dependent on Barb to carry him around, and he enjoyed being pampered. He also had diabetes, which meant Barb was responsible for giving him twice-daily insulin injections and monitoring his food intake. Having Benji to care for during that time helped her get through the worst of it. She was able to push aside her own vulnerability and focus on his needs. But Benji was 13 years old. Barb knew his days with her were limited.

In September of that year, the time shed been dreading arrived: Benji died. Now Barb was truly alone, and she began to feel the full impact of the loss that walked hand-in-hand with the changes in her life. Barb forced herself to be strong and think positively. At least, she told herself, shed had time to prepare for Benjis death. Hed had a good life. Shed cared well for him at the end, and shed said her goodbyes. Now it was time to move on. She desperately tried not to dwell on her sense of loss. She looked around her beautiful new home at the cherry hardwood floors, gleaming countertops and black furniture and told herself that, in spite of missing Benji, shed be happy not to have white dog hair all over the house anymore.

No matter how hard she tried to ignore it, however, she knew something was missing from her life. Having never had children, I was finding my life, to say the least, pretty empty, recalls Barb. However, I worked at putting away all the doggy things, returned the unused insulin, and said to myself, Okay Barbie, put the vacuum away. You can come and go as you please. You only have yourself to take care of now.

Her bittersweet freedom lasted until the following spring. It was a beautiful Friday evening in May, and Barb was just about to have her supper, a symbolic meal celebrating her independence. Im pretty self-sufficient now, she says with a grin, but before Id always let the men handle the barbecue. That evening, Id made up my mind to cook myself a steak. Much to her satisfaction, she turned out a perfectly grilled chunk of sizzling sirloin.

Her habit, since becoming single again, was to eat standing in front of the kitchen window, looking into her backyard. But before the first tasty bite reached her lips, she saw a strange animal meandering aimlessly across her yard.

This, in itself, was no surprise. To her great delight, Barb had discovered her new semi-rural neighbourhood to be populated with many wild animals, including raccoons, foxes, groundhogs, fishers and birds of all sorts. Her kitchen window provided an endlessly entertaining glimpse into the natural world. This furtive stranger, however, was not a wild animal. It was a cat, a grey and white tabby, and his erratic progress triggered her concern. He didnt look like he knew where he was going, she recalls. He seemed lost and confused, as if hed been wandering around for awhile. As he picked his way around the pool toward the open garage door, Barb suddenly remembered the mousetraps shed set earlier. She left her dinner untasted and ran outside to head him off.

Her reaction wasnt due to an abiding affection for cats. Barb had always felt that, when compared to Benji, cats didnt even rate. After all, they shed everywhere, they scratched the furniture, they were selfish and independent, not to mention the little issue of hairballs. I was definitely not a cat person, Barb emphasizes. I knew the nose and the tail, thats it. She simply reacted on instinct, hoping to shoo him away before he hurt himself. But as soon as she came near, before shed even touched him, the cat abandoned his wily ways, dropped down and rolled onto his side, begging her to pet him. She didnt quite know what to think. Arent cats afraid of strangers? she asked herself. From that moment, she says, I realized this cat was different.