It’s been a sombre month at Ardley as we farewelled our beloved puss, Lennie. Her name was actually Leonard, from the Big Bang Theory. We decided before she arrived that our next cat would have that name and so Lennie she was destined to be.
Lennie came to us in the way that many of the best loves come – unplanned and unexpected and seamlessly slotted into life at our place. She started life as one of a litter of strays somewhere on an empty block in central Bendigo. I woke up feeling somewhat the worse for wear after an hilarious evening with friends, turned to Ian and said “did I agree to take one of those kittens?”. And the doorbell rang.
There she was! Once you’ve held a kitten giving them back really isn’t an option. After she’d taken ownership of us as her slaves she settled in. Lennie moved to Ardley with us and revelled in her very own cat-run with freedom to come and ‘go’ at her discretion. The major upheaval in her life was the admittance of two crazy dogs who failed to properly appreciate her sovereignty. They wore many a scratch for intruding on her space and the lesson was delivered swiftly. On her last day she deigned to allow them to come close and nuzzle her. Just once.
At thirteen years of age she began showing signs of failing and, while we tried not to think about it too often, we couldn’t avoid the truth of things when we patted her, felt the fragility in her old bones, glimpsed the fatigue in her eyes. I set up a stool near her bowl to help her make the jump onto the bench that had never been difficult and even then she often misjudged the height and slipped back to the floor.
Ageing, as much as it is a privilege, can be cruel.
We knew she be going soon but the farewell broke my heart. Mr A, Lennie’s very own special person, held her safe and she knew she was loved. Bloody animals, how do they get into our hearts like this?
I tend to anthropomorphise everything in my life. My laptop has a name and a temperament, my car is a member of the hiking group in her own right, and I feel guilty if I use one of my fountain pens more than the other and hurt their feelings. Sigh. I know. But… the animals? I’m convinced, no, I know, that they have many of the emotions and intentions and personality that I see in them. Lennie certainly did! I’m not making this up, am I???
I may not be a member of a formal religion but I will lay claim to a healthy dose of spirituality. I grew up in the 70s with parents who came of age with long hair and mini skirts (ok, just mum) in the 60s. We attended Sunday School and we studied science and there never seemed to be any conflict between the two. Perhaps I missed something???
I don’t think I did.
Mr A and I are beginning to create Lennie’s garden. There will be a wattle, highly attractive to the birds she always yearned to ‘meet’, that will tempt them right to her resting place. Should they settle on her stones I’ll know, deep inside, that she’s purring her thanks.