Welcome to A Life Examined

What is the examined life? A life worth living! As I look at the road ahead, I take all the baggage from the past and use it as experience - the pain and the passion, the sorrow and the joy - allowing it to carve wisdom into my mind and hope into my spirit.
There is no experience that can't be useful to me at some point in my life. There is no lesson learned that cannot make a contribution to the future.
A tiny drop of water is a part of the ocean. A tiny speck in the night sky is a ginormous star in the distance. It all depends on perspective.
So, this examined life is to offer reflections in the hope of discussing things which are of value to myself and to others.
Love, Sarah

Thursday, 4 July 2013

My "Perfect" Life - part 7

Flashes of lovely memories #1: "On hugging my B-I-G black and white cat"

I would identify my best friend in middle-childhood as tolerant.

Sometime between M - the girl who ate chocolate when she wasn't supposed to (see earlier post) - and Grandma (at age12 I declared her as my 'best') - my chosen best friend was named "Boots". He was a fantastic cat who put me to sleep nightly and who moaned for me when I was away during the summer months.

Boots was fat (diet of roast beef and ice cream), arrogant (slept in the middle of our road and allowed cars to skirt around him), and patient (too big for me to carry him curled up in my arms, he'd hang over my forearms, front paws dangling over one arm, back paws dangling over the other arm, with my forearms holding him under his tummy). I never dressed him up (was he too proud? Or was I?) but I cuddled him for hours and loved him unconditionally - and he me for that matter.

Boots was a black and white tabby who received oodles of affection. I tucked him into bed with me every night, propping his head on my pillow and surrounding his body with my arm. I cannot remember him leaving that spot while I was still awake, though every morning his place was empty.  That I know of, he never killed a bird or a mouse - though I recall once my mother finding a dead bird at the door and declaring Boots must have brought it home for us. He was the feline pride of the neighbourhood, evidently courting many 'young misses' though in only the most honourable way, as he was fixed! He lived with us from kitten-hood until, at age 10, when he died suddenly and for no confirmed reason. My father found him in a remote corner of the unfinished part of the basement near the furnace, and disposed of him discretely, after which my mother told he he was 'gone'. I understood I'd never see him again.

Death for this thirteen year old was not too difficult. I did grieve, mostly because I hadn't said 'goodbye'. It was the first 'loss' through death I'd experienced, and so it did not go too deep and left no scar. Unfortunately, I have no photo of Boots except that which is in my mind; that sketch is indelibly etched in my brain.

So to those who have childhood memories of special pets, I hope this little ditty will be a contribution to that soft side of memory :

Oh cat of nine lives who stepped with agility,
Live on in my mind forever, indelibly,
Create in cat heaven of my imagination
Life and love - forever's inclination.
Cat or dog: best friend eternally
Know you were valued by child's life incredibly
May any who know the love song of ownership
Remember with joy animal's amiable friendship.

Next week I'll take a holiday in recognition of the summer (Northern hemisphere) month of July, when children are off school and so mothers, such as I, have less time to themselves.

Find me anew on Thursday, July 18th or read previous posts with my best wishes and eager eye for your comments.

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