MY KITTY CAT BAXTERBOY

MY KITTY CAT BAXTERBOY

I was not planning to write about my cat, Baxterboy today. It just happened. I woke up in the middle of the night crying, calling Baxter's name... It took Gary some time to make me understand it was just a bad dream. "It is not just a bad dream," I persisted...

I lost Baxter 5 years ago. He was my faithful friend through all his 8 year long life. How many really faithful friends do I have left?

I met him in a shelter with 7 other identical kittens. I chose him, because he was not too playful and not too shy. In a way, he had accepted his life for "It is, what it is. Whether you like me or not, this is me!" 

When we took him to the vet, I gave him the name Sofia, the capital of Bulgaria. The vet said, "It is a girl!" The next day, during the more "comprehensive" exam, the vet changed his mind. Hmm... Sofia became Baxter?! The gender really did not matter to me, Sofia Coleman, became Baxter Coleman. 

Baxter was named after the top guard of the University of Maryland basketball team. In 2002, the team won the NCAA championship. Loni Baxter played a vital role in the win.

Similarly, Baxter Coleman played a vital role in my life.

Baxter had a very happy life being a Coleman. He had good appetite, good hygiene habits, and interesting personality. He was a 'ladies' man'. Baxter liked all women coming to the house, but when a man tried to play with him, even with the intentions of petting and feeding him, he would growl and hiss. His feelings were out there; he was wearing them on his short legs. 

"I would very much appreciate it, if you leave me alone and mind your business. You may like me, but I have no intentions to reciprocate!" This message was delivered every time a man was trying to be friendly.

He loved his father, but even Gary was not safe. Baxter would throw temper tantrums. No educational methods worked. I tried.

I was very proud of his bilingual skills. He was capable to pick up Bulgarian words as if this was his native language. If people only knew what we were talking behind their backs...

Find me if you can...

Once, we needed to go on vacation. Baxter was boarded at the Vet Hospital. I was calling every day from Europe to see how he was doing. Every time, the office reassured me he was doing great. On our return, we went to pick him up as soon as the building opened.

Time came to learn the truth. Baxter was terrorizing all the dogs trying to "bark" as loud as them. In addition, he was making his body look as big as theirs. This was not very difficult to be done--Baxterboy was not a tiny boy; he was a little chubby... He made the staff anxious without attacking anyone. As a mother, I knew why he was doing all this "bullying." He was miserable and a little pissed off to be with everybody but his family.

When he heard my voice, he became as quiet as a mouse and gave me a big "meow" hug. We drove home. Everyone had his own way of feeling happy.

Baxter's life took a turn for the worse when I got sick. He was the cat who saw my seizures, right in front of his eyes; he saw ambulances; he was covered with blankets to prevent the EMTs from doing their work. There was noise, people running around the house, chaos.

I was told all of this later. I was unconscious, but a big, furry ball in the laundry room was listening and worrying if he would have his Mommy back. I am sure he was thinking how in the world he could love me, but be unable to help me...  

We all wonder about this when someone in the family gets sick...

When I came home from the numerous hospitals, I was half the person Baxterboy knew. 

Somehow, we recognized each other.

Sadly, Baxter was born with a congenital kidney disease. His kidneys were not fully functioning. It was his turn to go through treatments and mine--to worry and cry. He was quietly laying on my lap, barely moving his butt upstairs to sleep in my feet. He knew and I knew, we do not have much time left to be together.

Baxterboy loved flowers (like me and his Daddy.) The impatiens picture is taken in his favorite hanging out area. He stayed there for hours.

Peek - a -boo!

KITTY CATS

KITTY CATS

My love for animals must have started very early in my childhood. Kudos go to the Rooster. He started it all. But this story is not about the Rooster. It is about my piano teacher, Ms. B., her very beautiful, old piano and a big, loving cat. 

Ms. B. was playing the piano like a virtuoso. She never allowed Sebastian, her big ol’cat to sit on the piano. This was the most precious piece of “furniture” in her house. She did not want any scratches on it. Who can blame her?

I was 6 years old. To this day, I cannot explain to myself why I did not want to go to piano lessons. I love to go to piano concerts; I love classical music. I think I wanted badly to have a talent for it, which was not there. I was smart enough to realize that. I even explained this to my parents. They did not believe me. 

Parents believe their children can do everything. So, the piano lessons were a part of my childhood.

What made it tolerable was Sebastian. He would stay at the door and sit on my lap during the whole lesson. I think the teacher thought the two of us would bond. This would make it easy for me to learn. We bonded, but not for learning. We were looking at each other; I became his most comfortable bed. My legs were moving in a position to accommodate him, not what the exercises required.

My piano teacher must have liked me, or felt sorry for my parents. I loved the big ol’cat so much. He loved me, too. It was so obvious. His warm body made me endure 3 years of piano lessons. One day when I arrived, I saw his paw covered with bandages. He was hurt. Sebastian was getting old and clumsy. Still he followed our routine. When the lesson was over, I saw  a stain of blood on my dress.

During my next lesson, he was not around. Without Sebastian, I was totally helpless. My teacher had to explain my lack of progress to my parents. The piano lessons were over. 

Playing the piano was not in the cards for me. I do not blame myself for the failure. Why waste my lack of talent? On a different tangent, there are plenty of piano owners, who use the piano as a piece of furniture.

Playing the piano is not like riding a bike. Well, I still know how to play “The Donkey” -– the first and the last piano exercise I mastered.

Sebastian opened the door for a whole brood of his cat family. After him, I met Baxter. He is the one on the picture. Tiger is a current member of the family. He deserves a separate story.