To the editor:
Sophie “adopted” us a few months after the death of our 17-year-old Russian blue cat, George. Knowing that our 14-year-old golden retriever, Duchess’ days were numbered, husband said, “No more pets, losing them is too painful.”
One morning while getting ready for work, this cute multi-colored, long-haired kitten was on our back deck and “talking” to me through the kitchen window. “No more pets,” I said to myself — just ignore her and she’ll go back where she belongs. But I gave her saucer of milk before I left for work. She’ll be gone by the time I come back I thought.
When I got home that night, husband greeted me with, “We have a kitten on our back deck.” “Just ignore it,” I said as I was giving her another saucer of milk (none of the neighbors had lost a kitten).
This went on for a couple of days until I came home one day and there was husband standing on the deck with Sophie wrapping herself around his ankles, “talking” and doing her signature one-leg stretch.
“Look, she’s doing the ballet!” husband exclaimed. So in the house she came.
She became bosom buddies with Duchess and could usually be found nestled against the dog’s chest for a long warm nap.
Sophie helped soften our grieving when our beloved Duchess died the following year.
She could be found in whatever room I was in, either sleeping on a chair or “helping” with the housework. She especially loved to “help” make the bed where she’d “hide” under the top sheet and chase my hand as I was smoothing it out. Sophie was a very vocal cat and anyone who left a message on my voice mail heard her “helping” to answer the phone. Whenever the milk jug came out of the ‘fridge, there was Sophie with her “Mee-ilk?” In the evening it was “Mee-out?” so she could go in the garage to “hunt.” If I screamed about a spider or wayward mouse Sophie came running to “rescue” the poor critter …
Every night when I walked into my bedroom after my husband died, there was Sophie on the foot of my bed where she slept all night.
I found her this morning lying peacefully on her side, her four feet in “walking” position with her bushy tail flowing straight behind her — she looked like she was going somewhere …
She entertained us with her “talking” and “ballet” stretch for 17 happy years.
Now, Big Mac, our Maine Coon cat is looking pretty glum. He was a very young kitten when we got him as a buddy for Sophie and he seemed to take her as his mother — not always to her liking!
In a few months I’ll be looking for a buddy for Big Mac!
Carmeline Dickinson
Mapleton
