"Give me a sunny spot to sleep in when morning dawns and I will warm your lap on cold evenings." Phylis Feiner Johnson
Our lives are often touched by the unexpected. Such was our story with Squash Blossom. Last summer, my adult daughter spent a great deal of time at home with us, needing to escape for a short while, her small apartment and the small town in which she goes to school. She also stayed with us to provide company and an extra set of hands after I had surgery last summer. Many of our summer mornings were spent on our breezy front porch with a cup of coffee in hand and a magazine in our laps. It was our morning ritual, one we will both always hold close in our hearts.
On one such morning, as we sat on the porch chatting, reading and sipping our coffee, we heard not so much a meow, as a "mew". When we peeked down the driveway to find the source, we saw a dreadfully skinny orange cat walking toward us. We gave it a cheerful salutation and then continued our morning ritual. Within a few short minutes, appearing as quietly as a butterfly landing, seemingly out of thin air, the orange kitty was on the porch. He climbed onto the iron sofa and then straight into my daughter's lap. He curled up on her as if they had been long time buddies, all the while purring like a motorboat. While his friendliness entertained us, his dirtiness worried us, as did the fact that he was so very thin.
He hung out with us all morning and we jokingly came up with names for him. We weren't claiming him, I did not want another cat. We were simply amusing ourselves. He was such a friendly little guy that it was hard to shoo him away. Several names came up and eventually we decided that his color reminded us of the inside of a butternut squash, or the color of a squash blossom. Somehow "Squash Blossom" just seemed to stick. Eventually we found out he officially belonged to neighbors who had moved in a few short days before he appeared on our porch. Obviously hungry and uncared for, he soaked up our attention like a wet sponge. For the rest of the summer, if we were outside, he was with us.
Squash had an odd condition. One that made him even more adorable. He would purr so loudly and with such vigor that he would drool. Big droplets of slobber would drizzle down his chin while he was sitting in your lap. As for our laps, he never waited for an invitation. If you were stationary, he found you and sprawled out in your lap.
Although horribly undernourished and thin, Squash had massive paws and very lengthy whiskers, whiskers that somehow over the late summer, simply disappeared. They were pulled out or cut off by someone he trusted enough to let them get that close. That person should have every single hair on their body pulled out one at a time for the pain they caused that precious cat. Eventually his whiskers grew back, longer and stronger, but not even that abuse dampened his sweet spirit.
As winter came, we feared for his safety. By now he was basically homeless, and feeding off the kindness of the neighborhood, excluding the people who brought him into it in the first place.
Ohio winters can be brutal and I feared he would not make it through. I created a small sheltered area on our back porch, so he would at least have it as a last resort. Already having one cat, an old grouchy guy, we knew trying to bring Squash into our home would be disastrous! Another kind neighbor let him come into her house on the bitterest of nights, Squash having won over her heart and the hearts of her young children. Thankful for the warmth, he was simply an alley cat at heart and needed his freedom as soon as daylight emerged. I greeted him each cold morning with a bowl of heated milk to warm his tummy after the chilly night and before he set out to explore the freshly fallen snow. He began to expect it and even after being in the warmth and safety of the neighbor's house overnight, he would fuss to get out and run to my back porch for his morning bowl of warm milk. During the winter, there were tracks in the snow that led between our house and theirs, a path Squash had worn between them, fighting to survive.
When the sun began to warm the earth in the spring, Squash could be found lying directly under my platform bird feeder, nestled in among the growing daylilies, his fur speckled with discarded sunflower seed shells.
He was the sweetest of cats, always with a purr for you, sweeping in and out of your ankles or curling up in your lap the moment you sat down.
Who would've thought that the cat that almost starved to death, the cat with nine lives, who lived through the bitterest of winters would meet his end in the warmth of summer.
My house was full of company, my children home, my son's 6 month old German Shepherd/Husky mix puppy visiting and my sister here from out of state. Amidst all this bustle, I mentioned that I hadn't seen Squash in a few days, which was unusual since even with the dog here, he would still come calling and curl up on our back porch bench in the morning sunlight, both to the puppy's delight and aggravation. She wanted to play with Squash in the worst way. We would often have to shoo Squash off the back porch before we could bring Prudence out for her walk or we would have been flapping in the breeze like a flag on the end of Pru's leash as she tried her best to play with that cat!
A couple evenings later, Squash Blossom came to us for help, battered and in pain. We wrapped him in a towel, my sweet sister holding him like a baby in her arms as my husband drove us all to the vet. Squash was very brave and still just as sweet as ever. I unashamedly wept for him, my hand vibrating on his back as he lay on the cold stainless of the vet's table. He purred all the way till the end. My sister stayed with him in his last moments. My heart could not endure it.
Below is my last photo of Squash Blossom, taken just a few days before his accident, as he came trotting toward me out of the middle of my flower garden. Whenever out in the garden, if I stood still for more than a few seconds, Squash would lie across my feet, or if I squatted down to do something in the garden, he would curl up in my "shade". I will miss his sweet spirit and his constant company as I pull the weeds from my flowers.
"And when I am old and the time comes to say farewell, hold me gently in your arms and I will go without a whimper." Phylis Feiner Johnson
The warm days of summer brought you, the warm days of summer took you away.
Rest in Peace Squash Blossom.
You brought a bit more sunshine to our lives.
+copy+copy.jpg)
Posts
