A chain-link gate crosses my driveway just past the side door. In front of the gate a car was parked that was not being used. Cats would sometimes sun themselves on the hood. One cat started coming by often. As she would sit or lie atop the car I would talk to her and she would respond. She was very talkative and although she grew to know me well she would not allow a close approach. The second summer of our acquaintance she went to the front yard and climbed onto a thick lower branch of the old maple tree that shaded the front yard. There she stayed. One morning I found her crying by the front steps. Half her face was grossly swollen from a bad bite. She needed treatment but fought desperately not to be captured. I soon found out why. She had hidden her newborn kittens in the bushes under the living room window and had been wounded defending them. Prior to this moment no kittens were ever seen with her so this was a surprising event. Antibiotics were put into her food. She nursed her kittens and let an elegant black cat visit, probably the father as one kitten was totally black, the second black and white and the third a dark torte. When the kittens were older she stashed them down into a hollow tree trunk by the neighbor’s driveway. This was too dangerous. My friend Mickey, a vet technician took two of them to a no-kill shelter for adoption and I kept the third, Flora, a little torte. Lily, the mother was spayed and I took her in. But something wrong had happened during the spaying that was not revealed to me. Lily was left a mere shadow of herself and her condition worsened quickly. Near the end I was able to give her the affection she had previously refused. Lily had been very brave. Her kitten, Flora, stayed small but matured into a delightful companion. She communicates with a tiny warbling meow and can seemingly levitate up the front of a tall breakfront. There she sits, her head brushing the ceiling while she watches everyone. The poem “Lily” was written in remembrance of my first meeting with Flora’s mother.
Another mother cat came forth during a hot hazy August. She was a very beautiful part Persian pastel calico with thick long fur. She was also the biggest pregnant cat I had ever seen. Her sides bulged outwards. She walked swaying from side to side to balance the load. She was a large cat. When Buddy discovered her there was instant bonding. I was not as enthusiastic. But she had arrived seeking help and would not be turned away. Days went by. Time shortened. A decision had to be made. Then my spirit guides told me that her name was Belinda, and that I should accept what she offered because the gift was to be very special.
Since I was apprehensive about overseeing the imminent birth, a veterinarian friend kept her for ten days. But nothing happened so we took her home. Nancy, now married lived elsewhere so a private room was available with a plush birthing box. One morning high pitched squeaking announced new life. Belinda had ignored the box and instead stuffed herself into a cat carrier with four newborns. The next morning, a fifth, half the size of any of the others was also nursing.
Belinda cared for her kittens. When they were old enough to wander, she guarded them in the hallway that connected the bedrooms and bath. She was not to be messed with. The other cats would tiptoe by, being careful not to touch her or the kittens. Belinda was a royal and queenly creature. Even the dogs were respectful. She became the embodiment of the “Queen of Cats” which was my very first cat poem and the beginning of “Catmagic.” My friend, Sandi, took a calico female that she named Twinkle Toes, and her grandchildren chose two golden boys that they would call Milo and Bandit.
Then Belinda was spayed. She was very grateful that her mothering days were over. She had endured a difficult life. Her people had not been kind and she had lost many kittens. For a while her life was good. She received and returned much love. She ate good food and enjoyed complete safety. One afternoon she climbed onto the large wooden kitchen table to attract my attention. Something was terribly wrong. At the vet’s office she was already in shock. Nothing could be done and she left quickly. We were all devastated.
Chimeron, her daughter is with us now. She inherited her mother’s commanding presence. She resembles a bear with thick bushy fur. She is darkly multicolored in shades of brown. Her face is not catlike. Her green eyes are large and hypnotic, her purr, low and rumbling. She seems like a being from an ancient magical realm. Chimeron has become “The Queen of Cats.”
Her brother, Tabala, who was the half size latecomer to the litter is now sleek and tiger striped, physically big and powerful, but unaware of his strength. His temperament is very gentle and loving. Belinda’s children were her very special gift.
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