We adopted Phoebe only because I was in grad school while working full-time and so it felt like I was never home. Pat had always wanted us to have a cat, but I had not grown up with pets other than turtles and fish and refused, saying, "If we get a cat, you'll never touch me again. [You'll give all your affection to the cat.]" I relented because Pat deserved company in my absence.
Pat & I drove to what was then the P.A.W.S. animal shelter in Montclair, New Jersey, where we lived then, in the spring of 2008 and looked at a vast range of caged and free-roaming cats. "They're sisters. Would you like two?" said the cat minder when she saw us looking at a cage with two short-hair American tabbies. I am a sister and couldn't separate sisters. They were five years old, and we intended to go home with cats, who were not kittens since Pat explained to me that fewer people chose full-grown cats.
The smaller one with gray and black stripes chose Pat right away. Pat & I agreed that we each got to name one of the cats and I selected the name "Phoebe" because I liked the sound of it. Phoebe was the one with brown and black stripes. Pat named Phoebe's sister "Muffin" until by the end of the first evening, she declared, "You're no Muffin. You're a Toonces!" because she was naughty non-stop.
I knew nothing about cat-parenting and told my colleague Michele Morningstar, "I wish I could pick up Phoebe and put her in my lap."
"Then pick her up!" Michele encouraged.
I did and learned about kneading. Ouch. Phoebe had a good, healthy purr, which distracted me from the needle-pricks of her claws in my thighs. I learned to give her what she needed and wore thicker pants.
What Phoebe Gave Me
Becalmed me. Petting Phoebe's silky fur and smelling it along her spine practically erased my anxiety. She smelled like a Napoleon pastry to me.
Enhanced my self-regard. I walked around the house, saying to Phoebe, "You're so special, so special," and some of that affirmation rubbed off on me.
Increased my delight. She had a repertoire that charmed me and never got old. Lying on her back while checking to see if I was paying attention, for example, thrilled me. Every time. Phoebe, also, was such a generous purrer.
Decreased my self-absorption. Someone else absolutely depended on me to feed her and monitor her health, and to engage vets when her needs were a mystery.
Enlarged my family. Pat & I were a couple until we got cats, including Phoebe. And then we were and are a family.
Ultimately, you were the "perfect angel" that Dr. Antey called you as she injected you with the euthanasia dose. I love thinking about you in healthier times and only wish you were still here corporeally.
Just before we let you go, a day or so before, I cried, listening to "Memory" from cats because you, too, were a glamorous -- albeit indoor-only-by-our-design -- cat, who still merited appreciation in the twilight of your life. And you received it!
