| General Non-Fiction posted February 17, 2023 |
  |
A tribute to my friend
The Aerial Cat
by prettybluebirds
.jpg)
Even after over twenty-two years together, Blossom still reigns as queen. Sure, she is half-blind and scraggly looking, but underneath her rough exterior lies a heart of gold or maybe a lion; it depends on how you look at it. Blossom can purr me to sleep at night or smack the living daylights out of Skeezix, the youngest and cockiest member of my cat family.
Blossom came into my life in 2001 when a feral white cat had her kittens in one of our barns. There were two white kittens, one black kitten, and one bright calico, an exceptionally stunning litter. I caught the mother cat and all the kittens except the calico in a live trap and took them to a no-kill animal rescue. The feisty calico kitten eluded me for several days before succumbing to hunger and entering the live trap. She was wild to the extreme, so I decided to keep her for a few days and see if I could tame her down before I took her to the shelter.
The kitten was a tough nut to crack. She resisted my overtures of friendship, hissing, and growling whenever I got near her. I kept her locked in my office because if she had ever gotten loose in the house, I would never have been able to catch her. It took a good six weeks to convince the kitten I meant her no harm and only wanted to care for her. Another two weeks went by before I felt confident enough to give her the run of the house.
My husband, Desi, and I were eating breakfast the first time the little calico came out of the office with her tail held high and jaunty. "She's so bright she looks like a walking blossom," Desi said; so Blossom she became from that day forward.
Initially, I had intended to take the kitten to the rescue home when she settled down somewhat. However, as the days passed, I rationalized it would be too hard on the little mite as she was used to Desi and me and felt safe with us. The truth was, I had become quite attached to the independent feline and hated to give her up, so I didn't.
The kitten zipped around our house like a demented, bright-colored whirlwind, knocking over items that weren't secured and upsetting the older cat residents. Blossom could be a handful at times. When I was sure she wouldn't run away, I let her outdoors with the rest of the cats. Blossom loved the freedom, but I worried about the tiny creature, the proverbial cat mom.
One day I couldn't find Blossom, although I hunted high and low with no results. It was close to nightfall when I made a last check of the barn behind the house and heard a plaintive meow. "Blossom, where are you?" I hollered.
"Meow, Yeow!" Blossom answered. I still couldn't see her until I finally looked up, and there she was, in the barn's peak. The silly feline had climbed up the slanted two-by-fours until she reached the top of the barn. No matter how much I coaxed her, she refused to come down.
"I found Blossom; she's at the top of the barn," I told Desi. "I don't know how to get her down, and it's almost dark. What should I do?"
Desi looked the situation over and said, "Leave her alone. Blosson will come down when she gets hungry enough; it's a warm night, so don't worry, she will be fine."
So much for that theory; Blossom was still there the following morning. I could hear her pathetic cries as I went to help my husband care for the cattle. Again, I did my best to talk Blossom into coming down, to no avail.
If you're a cat lover like me, you can guess what transpired next. Around noon, I couldn't stand it anymore and dragged our longest extension ladder into the barn, where I grunted and heaved until I got it on top of the hay bales wiped, the sweat out of my eyes, and managed to get the ladder set up against the wall. I had climbed halfway up the ladder when Blossom decided the game was over. She zipped down those two-by-fours like a professional tight-rope walker. At that point, I wondered if maybe some circus would like a daredevil cat.
Blossom pulled her aerial routine on me several times over the years, climbing up the ladders of our forty-foot silos and the tallest trees she could find. Even after she concluded I wouldn't drop everything and come to her rescue, she still loved to climb. At one point, Blossom managed to make it to the roof of our dairy barn, where she lay by the weather vane with the wind ruffling her hair. How she accomplished that, the Lord only knows.
Now, years have passed, and other cats have come and gone, but Blossom is still here. After my husband passed away in 2018, Blossom started sleeping with me and purring me to sleep at night; she still does today. Her aerial acrobats now consist of jumping onto the window ledge to soak up the sunshine or sitting on my computer desk as she is now while I write this story.
Blossom taught me a valuable life lesson: No matter how high or hard the climb, keep going until you reach your goal. Blossom sure did.
Tributes contest entry
Even after over twenty-two years together, Blossom still reigns as queen. Sure, she is half-blind and scraggly looking, but underneath her rough exterior lies a heart of gold or maybe a lion; it depends on how you look at it. Blossom can purr me to sleep at night or smack the living daylights out of Skeezix, the youngest and cockiest member of my cat family.
Blossom came into my life in 2001 when a feral white cat had her kittens in one of our barns. There were two white kittens, one black kitten, and one bright calico, an exceptionally stunning litter. I caught the mother cat and all the kittens except the calico in a live trap and took them to a no-kill animal rescue. The feisty calico kitten eluded me for several days before succumbing to hunger and entering the live trap. She was wild to the extreme, so I decided to keep her for a few days and see if I could tame her down before I took her to the shelter.
The kitten was a tough nut to crack. She resisted my overtures of friendship, hissing, and growling whenever I got near her. I kept her locked in my office because if she had ever gotten loose in the house, I would never have been able to catch her. It took a good six weeks to convince the kitten I meant her no harm and only wanted to care for her. Another two weeks went by before I felt confident enough to give her the run of the house.
My husband, Desi, and I were eating breakfast the first time the little calico came out of the office with her tail held high and jaunty. "She's so bright she looks like a walking blossom," Desi said; so Blossom she became from that day forward.
Initially, I had intended to take the kitten to the rescue home when she settled down somewhat. However, as the days passed, I rationalized it would be too hard on the little mite as she was used to Desi and me and felt safe with us. The truth was, I had become quite attached to the independent feline and hated to give her up, so I didn't.
The kitten zipped around our house like a demented, bright-colored whirlwind, knocking over items that weren't secured and upsetting the older cat residents. Blossom could be a handful at times. When I was sure she wouldn't run away, I let her outdoors with the rest of the cats. Blossom loved the freedom, but I worried about the tiny creature, the proverbial cat mom.
One day I couldn't find Blossom, although I hunted high and low with no results. It was close to nightfall when I made a last check of the barn behind the house and heard a plaintive meow. "Blossom, where are you?" I hollered.
"Meow, Yeow!" Blossom answered. I still couldn't see her until I finally looked up, and there she was, in the barn's peak. The silly feline had climbed up the slanted two-by-fours until she reached the top of the barn. No matter how much I coaxed her, she refused to come down.
"I found Blossom; she's at the top of the barn," I told Desi. "I don't know how to get her down, and it's almost dark. What should I do?"
Desi looked the situation over and said, "Leave her alone. Blosson will come down when she gets hungry enough; it's a warm night, so don't worry, she will be fine."
So much for that theory; Blossom was still there the following morning. I could hear her pathetic cries as I went to help my husband care for the cattle. Again, I did my best to talk Blossom into coming down, to no avail.
If you're a cat lover like me, you can guess what transpired next. Around noon, I couldn't stand it anymore and dragged our longest extension ladder into the barn, where I grunted and heaved until I got it on top of the hay bales wiped, the sweat out of my eyes, and managed to get the ladder set up against the wall. I had climbed halfway up the ladder when Blossom decided the game was over. She zipped down those two-by-fours like a professional tight-rope walker. At that point, I wondered if maybe some circus would like a daredevil cat.
Blossom pulled her aerial routine on me several times over the years, climbing up the ladders of our forty-foot silos and the tallest trees she could find. Even after she concluded I wouldn't drop everything and come to her rescue, she still loved to climb. At one point, Blossom managed to make it to the roof of our dairy barn, where she lay by the weather vane with the wind ruffling her hair. How she accomplished that, the Lord only knows.
Now, years have passed, and other cats have come and gone, but Blossom is still here. After my husband passed away in 2018, Blossom started sleeping with me and purring me to sleep at night; she still does today. Her aerial acrobats now consist of jumping onto the window ledge to soak up the sunshine or sitting on my computer desk as she is now while I write this story.
Blossom taught me a valuable life lesson: No matter how high or hard the climb, keep going until you reach your goal. Blossom sure did.
 Recognized |
#22 February 2023 |
You need to login or register to write reviews. It's quick! We only ask four questions to new members.
© Copyright 2024. prettybluebirds All rights reserved.
prettybluebirds has granted FanStory.com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
