Solace and Joy

Dear Kindred Spirits,

I’m all over the map lately. Today’s entry reflects that for sure. We had to let go of our beloved cat Cleo a few weeks ago. And I am, perhaps as you are too, trying to find my footing amidst the cruelty and deceit that we are surrounded by. We go from beloved pets to making it through the times we are living in, without any obvious through line. Come with me, if you wish.

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Cleo in her window

Cleopatra reigned supreme over her domain for 16 years. She was adopted when she was one, after having been returned to the shelter 3 times. She was not a bad cat; she just didn’t like any other animals. Humans were okay, sometimes even interesting. She did not give her heart to just anyone, and access to her was always on her terms. Towards the end of her life, she let a few people into her inner circle which she would announce by climbing into their lap. Don’t pick her up though– she must come to you. If she felt comfortable with you, she would coyly offer her belly up for a rub.

She was insistent on having her needs met and her persistence led to her success. She was quietly bossy. She kept the schedule of the house, waiting nearby in the evening, a sentry ready to escort us to bed. Once we were both in bed, she would push her way in, purring, to lie down between or on top of us. We took to calling her “Asunder” because she would quietly push her way up until her head was lying between ours. Kind of ridiculous. When she was satisfied with our sleep, she would leave to attend to her many patrol duties.

Cleo loved to perch on her cat tree in the sunny window facing the street. From there she could survey the neighborhood, bask in the warmthon a clear day, and keep track of cats who might enter her territory. It helped that this window was in my office, especially when I was still working at the desk regularly. She would herd me into the office after breakfast. There was a schedule to keep.

As is often the case with beloved pets, I’m pretty sure Cleo knew I had cancer before I did. In the months before my diagnosis, she became very attentive and she would lie on my chest as I rested in bed. We eventually got a recliner chair, and she spent countless hours for the past 3 years lying in my lap as I rested in the chair. We always said that my cancer was the best thing that ever happened to Cleo because it provided her with regular access to my lap.

Cleo’s lap

A few weeks ago, we woke up and she was in distress. It was quickly clear that she was very sick, with signs that the end was near. We called the vet, who came and euthanized her as we held her.

Her passing was abrupt and unexpected and it has left a big empty space in our lives. I think I see her waiting in the hallway to shepherd us to bed. Or expect to see her when we come home. I miss her pesty insistence on sleeping between us and her devotion to my lap (even though it was a bit much at times). I miss her need to always be able to locate my eyes when I was sleeping. I sat under a very soft blanket recently and stroked the softness and thought for a moment that it was Cleo.

I am so grateful for her loyal companionship, especially through these cancer years. I’ve been lucky to have beloved pets over my lifetime, and now for the first time in over 20 years, I do not have an animal companion. It has made me reflective on the many animal friends I have known: Flopsy, Butterscotch and Black Eye, Midnight, Sunshine, Courtney, Zoey, Watson, Lucy, Moses, Scout and Cleo.

As we are living in a time of such cruelty, our animal friends bring us solace and joy.

Solace and joy are something I desperately need these days. It is so easy to get swept up in the relentless horrifying news of the destruction of American democracy, and the betrayal of the values that ancestors and many of us have fought for.

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When I was thinking of a “song of the day,” the song that kept insisting was American Tune by Paul Simon. While this song has nothing to do with our animal friends, it is a song for our times. Paul Simon wrote and recorded the original in 1973, in the middle of the unfolding Watergate Scandal, the continuing involvement of the US in the Vietnam War and the struggle for civil rights. And here we are again, over 50 years late,r reflecting on the same sobering themes, and trying to find hope and inspiration to carry on. I like this song because I think it tells the truth, and truth telling is the beginning of any reconciliation or healing.

The Indigo Girls used to sing an acapella version of this song as their final encore at concerts. Their harmonies on this song always gave me goosebumps. The only recording I could find on streaming services is from 1989.

My new favorite version is Rhiannon Giddens singing with Paul Simon at the Grammy tribute to him in 2023. She hasn’t recorded it, but I will link the video of her singing (her part starts at 1:50). I also appreciate that she updated a line in the song that has not aged well. The original version is:

We come on the ship they call The Mayflower
We come on the ship that sailed the moon

Rhiannon Gidden’s new version is:

We didn’t come here on the Mayflower
We came on a ship in a blood red moon

For me, this song makes space for hope. It is honest about our battered souls, unease and shattered dreams. But it also offers possibility of our souls rising and smiling reassuringly.

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the ocean and resistance

We are at the height of Spring where I live. I lean into bird song, spring green, garden planting, and joyful bursts of spring color. I lift my head from the weight of the world and cancer and find connection in community, grateful that I feel healthy enough to be out in the world more. I treasure time spent with family at the ocean. I feed off the energy of resistance. I appreciate my body getting stronger. I return to music that soothes me and sing my way through the Peter, Paul and Mary song list that I listened to as a child. I marvel at an interaction with an octopus at the Monterey Bay Aquarium where we had connection with this most amazing being. I savor the weeks when my stomach is willing for me to eat more interesting food.

Tell me about your animal friends, or music, or wherever you are finding solace and joy in these days. We need each other to walk through the times we are living in. Thank you for walking with me. I appreciate you.

Love and hope to you,

Maija

Song of the Day: American Tune by Paul Simon

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