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The
Last of the First Ones
'Willie'
Michael
Hillman
If
anyone would have told me back in my youth that one day
I would be a confirmed cat lover, I would have been
insulted, but today, it would be a safe description of
me, and Willie, a wonderfully special brindle, can claim
much of the credit for my transformation.
Willie was Audrey’s first cat, and their first
meeting, like many things in life, was purely by chance.
It was the summer of ‘78 Audrey was working as
an barn manager. While out exercising a horse one day,
she came across and injured kitten, which she rushed to
the vet. Unfortunately, she was too late, and the kitten
died. Later that evening, when she stopped in to pay her
bill, she inquired if they had kittens available for
adoption. The words had no sooner left her month, the a
tiny paw burst from a cage and as if signaling to come
here, drew Audrey’s attention. An easy touch, all the
brindle kitten had to do was ‘‘meow’’ at Audrey,
and the deal was done.
Convincing the barn owner, a confirmed
dog owner, to let her bring Willie home, was something
altogether different. The owner was initially against
the idea, but when Audrey threw down the gauntlet of
‘‘she either comes or I go.’’ His opinion
quickly changed.
Looking in from the outside, one would
figure that the life span of a kitten entering a barn
full of Jack Russell's would be measured in terms of
days, maybe weeks. But Willie outfoxed them all, and
before anyone knew it, it was the Jack Russell’s that
were running for cover.
One of Willies favorite pass times was to sit on a
chair, under which the Jack Russell's had to pass in
order to get to their food bowls. As they passed, Willie
would reach down and wack then on their butt. Soon, the
Jack Russell's were is such a state of terror, that the
owner of the barn had to ask Audrey to intervene, and
restrain Willie from tormenting his ‘‘fearsome’’
Jack Russell's!
Another favorite pass time of Willie's was to wander
into the bathroom whenever the owner would be in it, and
brush up against his legs. Invariably, this would result
in a frantic call for Audrey to call her cat, a call
that much to Audrey’s amusement, she would never make.
Any cat that could intimidate a Jack Russell had to
be a master mouser, and Willie was no exception to that
rule. Life got sedate, and much more to a cats liking
for Willie when Audrey went back to school and moved out
of the barn apartment. Instead of the daily hustle and
bustle of the barn, Willie spent her days sleeping on
pillows in sunbeams while she awaiting Audrey return
from school.
Where in the barn, Audrey’s life
could be summed up as work and sleep, which left
precious little time for kitty snuggles. Study time soon
became prime kitty play and snuggle time. For two long
years, Willie keep Audrey company into the wee hours of
the night, either amusing her or soothing her. To
Willie, pens were the most perfect toy ever created,
especially the pen Audrey had in her hand. In hopes of
distracting her, Audrey would throw used pens on the
ground, but Willie would only fall for that just so
much, and quickly she would be back grabbing at the one
Audrey was writing with. During these two long years the
bond between them, already strong, grew stronger still.
After graduation, Audrey moved to an
apartment next to a barn, and Willie, once again resumed
a life as a barn cat, met Tony, a blue eyed, Siamese
something mix. The two hit it off instantly, and before
Audrey knew it, Willie had invited Tony to join their
family.
The three got along as if they had
been made for each other. During the days, and on warm
evenings, Willie and Tony would ‘‘cat about’’
together. On cold nights, they would curl up in bed next
to Audrey, drawing heat. With two hands free, each was
assured equal attention from Audrey, who would be lulled
to sleep by the stereo sound of purring.
Willie, a sociable cat, was not one to
tolerate being alone, especially when there were idle
hands around that could be used to give kitty scratches.
So when Audrey went off to work, Willie went off in
search of scratches. The neighbors in the apartment
above were always a prime target. Climbing up a nearby
tree, she would leap to the window and tap on it until
it was opened and she had gained entrance. If that
failed, she would retreat to the basement apartment,
where again, she would wait until admitted. Everyone
loved her.
The arrival of PJ and I into Willie's, Tony, and
Audrey lives threw everything into confusion. While
skilled in the ways of tormenting a Jack Russell,
Willie, now advanced in age, found it easier to avoid PJ
rather then confront him. PJ, who was quickly calibrated
by Willie’s Ally Tony, likewise, found it easier to
avoid Willie then to confront her. While unsteady at
first, peace nevertheless reigned, and as time wore on,
their relationship evolved into one of mutual respect.
By the time we moved to our farm in
Emmitsburg, Willie’s age was beginning to show. Gone
were the day of long hunting trips, replaced instead by
long lazy naps in the garden. For the first time in
their relationship. Willie and Audrey were together all
the time. No longer would Willie be left alone while
Audrey went to work. And while having to share the bed
with me was a draw back, Willie quickly discovered like
Audrey, I gave great scratches.
I would no sooner site down to read or
watch TV, then Willie would jump up next to me. Lady
like in all her actions, she would never press for a
scratch, but instead, sit a respectful distance away,
and let out a silent ‘‘meow’’ and wait for your
response. A simple movement of the scratch hand in her
direction was all that was necessary, and within
seconds, she was next to you and purring like a newborn
kitten.
 At night, Willie was always first in bed, and would
wedge herself between Audrey and I to assure maximum
warmth. During the day, in the summer, she would take up
residence on the front porch, outside of the boundaries
imposed on the dogs by the invisible fencing. There she
could sleep away the day in the sun, undisturbed by the
coming and goings on the farm. In the winter, the guest
room bed was her principle, and late only residence.
Located on the sunny side of the house, she could sleep
her days away on a comfortable bed, basked in a warm
sunbeam.
Audrey saw to it that Willie wanted nothing. As she
grew older and more feeble, Audrey would help her move
from the bed or front steps to the food bowls and back.
Nothing was considered an effort when it came to caring
for Willie.
In spite of all her efforts however, age took its
toll on Willie. A broken leg, broken by just shear
brittleness, took a lot out of Willie. Never a heavy
cat, Willies weight dropped dramatically. Remarkably the
leg healed, but in spite of the recovery, Willie
increasingly became dependent on being moved by Audrey.
Willie's end came quickly and tragically. We had come
to depend upon the reality that we could place her in a
spot and felt safe that we could find her there when we
returned hours later.
Pulling out of the drive way for a horse show one day
I felt the truck hit something. As I turned and looked
behind me, I drew back in horror. There in the drive
way, was Willie’s body. How she had managed to get
from the porch to the drive way is unknown, but nearly
blind and frightened by the movement of the truck and
trailer, she ran in the only direction she new was safe,
toward the house, and in doing so, in the path of the
trailer.
Audrey gently wrapped Willie in a
blanket and said her good-bys. Unable to simply bury and
cover her with dirt, I crafted a coffin of cherry to
place her in. Like Emma before her, we buried Willie in
her favorite spot, on the sunny side of the house,
where, in her later life, shielded from the wind, she
and Tony would bask away their days. Willie was 21 at
the time of her death.
Like Emma before her, Willie’s death
opened the door for another. As Kess helped heal Emma’s
loss, Jordie, a black Manx, help heal (Willies) Willie's
loss.
While the death of Willie was hard on Audrey, it was
harder on Tony. Without the company of his life long companion,
Tony seemed to age almost overnight, accelerated in
part, but the hustle and bustles created by the ‘next
ones’ -three young cats and two young dogs.
Too weak and too tiered to play the youngster’s
games, slowly but surely, Tony and PJ, the last of the
first ones, made peace, and became allies in search of
the perfect warm spot for lazy afternoon naps.
"Farewell, Master, Yet not
farewell
Where I go, ye too shall dwell
I am gone, before your face,
A moment's time, a little space.
When ye come where I have stepped
Ye will wonder why ye wept."
Part
1: Charmer's Story
Part 2: Emma's Story
Part 4: Tony's Story
Part 5: PJ's Story
Read
other stories by Michael Hillman |
