345/365 Why - Annie Lennox

These are the contents of my head
And these are the years that we have spent
And this is what they represent
And this is how I feel
Do you know how I feel ?

My neighbor just had a cat put to sleep. He was old--when I took care of their cats, I was stunned by how old he seemed. But still lovely. He had 3 legs and arthritis. And he was dying.

She's having a hard time.

We brought home our first cat, Wiz, when I was 8 years old. Little black cat. Little bad black cat. But loving and easy-going. And he taught me to keep my stuff off the floor. He came into our lives before my sister Colleen did. Before we had a microwave or a VCR--not to compare him to appliances, but he was there a long time.

He essentially represented my growing up. These are the years that we have spent. I went from an 8 year old spazz to a 12 year spazz to an awkward early teenager to, well, something else. But he always lay on my bed or in my closet or by my head at night. Never purred. Just lay there patiently, listening. I can still read what you're thinking.

He had rules, and he was difficult (cats live up to their names, after all). He tolerated Colleen's brief stint at animal cruelty (not really--she was 3). He would play with my brother like a dog. He was a great cat.

And of course, cats die. He got cataracts and arthritis, but was still fine. Still well-groomed and happy. Lost a few teeth, but still managed to eat. Lost his voice--his meows were just little breaths. Suddenly, in a 6 week span, he went from healthy but aged to dying. His kidneys failed and that was that.

I went to school the next morning--I was teaching school by then, I was 26 and pregnant with Sophia--and did ok until I sat down in the cafeteria with my coworkers. Burst into tears. I couldn't believe it. It was so silly. He was just a damned cat. I had my own cats. What was my problem? But they still turn me inside out turning inside out turning inside out.

And that's when I knew for sure I was an adult. The last vestige of childhood gone, the last constant--and there were few constants--had passed and I was on my own. Of course that's overstated--I was married, pregnant, I had friends, family, a job, a house, and so on. But I think there are private symbols we all have that cannot be explained easily--And this is what they represent--and Wiz was my symbol of growing up.