I cannot help but think that it was about a year ago this month that we lost Dexter. A year ago I had no intention of acquiring another cat - only perhaps a dog when Jason and I finally settled in somewhere, knowing full well that with our agendas that could be a long time away. But as the months wore on, I found myself missing having a pet. When Jason and I would take walks in the evening, my favorite part was running into a local favorite kitty or perhaps a new face along the way. I would interrupt Jason mid-sentence to call his attention to a cat on a stoop or hiding out in the grass. I would get oddly excited at the sight of an approaching canine with his owner.
However, it was not until we came upon the fuzzy little black torpedo - we named Cosby - out back of Joyland that I actually really thought about bringing another animal into our home. This little guy had so much spunk yet was a little angel curled up next to me. His soft, thin fur went all over the place as if it wasn't quite sure where it wanted to lay. After the first day of meeting, I couldn't wait to see him again. Jason kept asking me if we were going "to need to have a kitty talk" but I kept putting him off. I was not going to be irresponsible.
Saturday night, as we got ready for bed, we talked about having Cosby in our home. What was so special about him, what changes we would have to make, if he would fit in with our lives. I was most concerned about how much we travel and not being able to leave a kitten alone for quite some time. We are often away an average of two weekends a month and this little guy is way too young to leave at home by himself. I really wanted to be sure but I didn't feel sure.
But, what may have bothered me the most, is was it the right time to bring another cat into my life after I had such a sweet companion in Dexter. Dexter had come into my life shortly after my mother, my dear friend, my dog, and my grandfather passed away and when I was across the country in a tiny apartment in which I spent the first month with only a body pillow to sleep with on the living room floor. It was perhaps one of the most difficult parts of my life. I would never admit it then but I was incredibly lonely and unsure of almost everything I was doing. Dexter became my companion. He was there to watch Frasier with. He was there during the awkward phone calls with my family about the problems that would later wait for me at home. He was there when I would come home from long drives, trying to learn an area I knew absolutely nothing about. And later, he was there, meowing incessantly under my driver's seat, as we drove back to Texas, 24 hours in a 4Runner, pulling a trailer. He was there as I faced everything I had left behind unravel into a bigger mess than before I left. He was there when I decided it didn't matter at all what I had seen but only what I would become. He was there through everything I had encountered in my adult life. And in some way he may have represented my will to not only survive but to thrive on the experiences of my life.
So, if Dexter represented survival, what does Cosby represent? I suppose only time will tell. Perhaps it will be growth, the ability to fully nurture something outside of myself, or being able to take a risk and watching that risk blossom into something quite extraordinary. I really have no way of knowing, as these things are usually best interpreted later on.
I do know that while Cosby may not be here to fill a large void in my life or to cure my sense of loneliness, he promises to be a great addition to all the wonderful things that currently make up my existence. I am thrilled to have him in my home while sharing the experience of raising him and watching him grow. And I am thankful to my loyal friend, Dexter, for playing an integral part in allowing Cosby to be part of my life now.
Meow.
- Jen Dean
The national library here in the US, the Library of Congress, was founded with the purchase of the 6,487 volume library of Thomas Jefferson. This initial purchase was the nucleus of the collection, and was itself a special part of the collection. However, two thirds of the original Jefferson books were lost in a fire on Christmas Eve of 1851. 55,000 volumes, including the two thirds of Jefferson’s library were lost in that fire.
