As this Mother’s
Day draws near, I am once again reminded that this imagery we tend to have of
MOTHER is that of first taking that solid little body into our arms to hold in
gentle firmness against our breasts while at the same moment holding forever in
our hearts. However, the point of view from the infant at that time is one of looking around in wonder. Recent thoughts have come to mind that from the child, there is a great
deal forever unrecognized about their mother.
One way that has
come to light has been in that my mother was a firm believer that animals
helped teach children responsibility. Thus, we had a family dog, my brother and
I each had a cat at one point. One late spring day as I walked home from our
country school, my mother and my brother, Kent, age 12, were huddled in the
grass by our house when I heard Kent, as though upset, say, “Don’t let Marilyn
see this!” Mamma hurried me right into
the house and told me, “Sonny Boy is dying.” What? Sonny Boy was my beloved,
smooth-haired, yellow and white striped kitten. How could he be dying? He was
too young to die! (This was right after WW2 and vet visits were for people with
more money than we had, plus country cats were just that – country cats.) Sonny
Boy had worms, apparently from an unhealthy mother. My 8-year-old broken heart
must have been nothing compared to the one my brother suffered as a result of
his careful attendance of Sonny Boy’s death and probable burial. Hopefully, his
Jeep cat brought him some cuddling comfort, or, more likely, our dog, Peggy.
Not too long
after, when we visited our maternal grandparents, as so often was true, there
were kittens for our playing pleasure. This time, having asked permission from
my parents beforehand, Grammie gently picked one tiny grayish-striped one with
an almost black pointy tail from the box , offered it to me with the explanation,
“The mother kitty of this one is old. She doesn’t have enough milk for all of
her babies. If you think you can raise this one, she can be yours, but you will
have to feed her milk from a dolly’s bottle for a while.”
“Oh, yes, Grammie!
Yes, I can do it! Thank you!” Thus, baby
kitty was passed from grandmother’s hands into my waiting, cradled arms. Today,
I can almost relive the ride home in the one-seat pick-up truck , still
cuddling my mewling kitten, and Daddy’s wondering, “What have we gotten
ourselves into this time?” attitude. (He was not fond of cats, but he did love
his little girl!)
Following that episode, her health declined and there came a time in which we knew the best parts of her life had passed. Having the services of a vet was a blessing and with the decision made, my mother took the deed upon herself. This was no simple task: my mother did not drive and Daddy was at work during vet hours. My brother was away in the AF. and so while I was in school, my mother (once again in helping me avoid the pain of separation) took Tippy on the bus, likely having to change buses at least once on what was about a 5-mile trek one way, to the vet. We did not have a kennel, so Tippy was probably cuddled close to my mother’s tremoring breast all the way. Wiping tears that had to have been falling must have been painful, troublesome, and even a bit embarrassing all along the way. How I wish I had been thoughtful enough to go with her! So often that thought returns when I remember this trip my mother made to save me from pain.
This was all
brought back to me “in full living color” this past week as I writhed in my
mind over what our daughter and her daughter were painfully suffering. A far
different time, but not such a different scenario was being played out. A
little girl once asked, “Can I please keep this kitten? I’ll even pay to have
her fixed.” And so a companionship began for the kitty’s lifetime with the
little girl through high school-college-into marriage but now Minny Kitty
needed medical care that the vet felt could be accomplished with surgery since
all the blood tests indicated “Okay.” Minny Kitty had been brought to the
trusted vet at the growing-up home and since her Emily Girl had to return to
her home to work, the grandmother person, the “Mama’s Momma”, was there to
nurture and comfort. The antibiotics for an ear issue were given faithfully
until that last evening prior to surgery when Minny Kitty seemed to say, “Not
tonight. I’m tired. I’m old. Surgery is not the answer.” With the signs given
of a possible stroke and past the vet’s open hours, the Mama-Grand-momma sat
holding Minny Kitty in as comfortable a position as tolerable for her while
both were on the floor. A little mewing from Minny Kitty seemed to say, “Thank
you for loving me so much,” as she took another brief breath or two and went to
sleep in the nurturing arms of love.
For those same
nurturing arms of love that once first held her baby Emily Shae back to the
arms of my mother who once first held and nurtured me, little knowing the
prices they would pay for loving us so much, beyond the pain they had just
endured, we could ask, “Would you do it again, or is it too high a personal
price?”
Perhaps this
simile answers well:
“You see only the
best views
when you have climbed
to
the top of the
mountain.”
© M Sue Libby Moore
This is so beautiful! Tippy looks, and acts, very much like Tucker! Love you much!
ReplyDeleteThank you ~ Judy said Tippy was the model for the fluffy, long-haired cat choices in her adult years (my words, her meaning). Love you, too ~
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