I was in fourth grade at Lake Youngs Elementary. Cassie McKenney was my best friend. Just a few days earlier, my mom and dad had sat my sister Audrey and I down for a talk. Even before they told us I knew what they were going to say. They were getting divorced. Although I sensed it coming I didn’t understand that it meant I was supposed to be sad. I didn’t have time to be sad; I had a little sister to take care of. But my mom, knowing that I needed something, or someone, to comfort me had an idea in mind.
Not long after that, after walking home from school on a spring day, Audrey and I entered what seemed like an empty house. We called out to everyone. Not a person in sight. We knocked on my mom’s bedroom door, which was not usually closed. When we walked in we saw a funny sight: her, my big sister Megan, and my big brother Joel sitting on the bed waiting for us to arrive. They told us to go look in the bathroom. That door was not usually closed either! I instantly had inkling as to what was waiting for us behind the door, but instead of rushing to the door I stood back to let Audrey open up the surprise. But I was wrong! There wasn’t a kitten behind that door. There were two! After rapid fire questions to my mom and older sibling I learned the other surprise. These kittens weren’t for the whole family, they were for us. Just me and Audrey - I got my own kitten!
As all five humans and two kittens sat on that bed, we discussed names. The decision needed to be made right away! These sister cats were nearly identical and we needed a reliable way to tell them apart. We also decided that the two names needed to go together. Ideas such as “Salt and Pepper,” “Peanut Butter and Jam,” and “Sonny and
Cher,” were tossed out then quickly vetoed away. A thirty minute discussion that took place while petting, holding, and kissing new kittens on the bed turned into a week long discussion that took place while following kitties around the house, yard, and discovering their different personalities. I don’t remember whether it was Megan’s idea, or maybe Joel’s – but someone asserted that if we couldn’t decide on their names we should at least give them nicknames because dang it, these twins were hard to tell apart! Both had beautiful golden eyes. Both had soft white tummies, and mitten-white paws. And both had shiny gray fur. The only difference between them was the color of their chins. One was white. The other was gray. Although I have no documented proof, I believe the following simple yet effective nicknames were my idea. “White-chin” and “Grey-chin.”
The name Grey-chin morphed into Gretchin. And White-chin morphed into, well, Wichen. When friends or neighbors asked the names of our new family members they smiled after hearing Gretchin’s name, but scrunched their faces after hearing Wichen’s. Once they decided we were serious, and maybe even asked if that was a Chinese name, we would tell them the unique meaning behind their identities!
As the days passed Audrey and I staked our claims. Initially I wanted the rambunctious and outgoing one, Wichen; she seemed more fun. The shy one, Gretchin, spent too much time hiding under tables and in closets. But Audrey wanted the rambunctious one too. And since Audrey needed a kitty to play with and love her, and the shy Gretchin couldn’t just be ignored I decided to give her a try. It didn’t take much coaxing and chin-scratching before she learned that she could trust me. And so, Gretchin became mine.
As time passed, Gretchin proved to be nearly as rambunctious as Wichen. The kitties kept Cassie and I company when we had sleepovers in the basement. We would jump on the bed with them, rocking out to “Smells Like Teen Spirit.” But when we decided it was time for bed, the kitties still wanted to party! They would race around at lightening speed, passing directly below the head of our bed, running no less than 20 laps around the basement. Giggling and sleepless sleepovers ensued.
Four years later our family moved to
Utah. I don’t even remember whether taking the kitties was up for discussion – of course they were coming! Our stepdad fashioned a large and luxurious pet-crate out of box, which we set on the middle bench of the Astro van. And we tied ropes to the kitties’ collars to make sure they couldn’t run away at the rest stops. Once there, they had no trouble adjusting to
Utah and exploring our new desert home.
You know the old saying, “curiosity killed the cat”? Sadly, that turned out to be the case for Wichen. We hadn’t lived in
Utah long before she wandered into the neighbor’s yard to nap in a flower bed. She must not have been accustomed to the vinyl fencing in
West Jordan, because when this neighbor’s greyhounds discovered her, she was unable to climb the fence to escape. This was a very sad day for our family, especially Audrey. Wichen lived five fun-filled years. And I learned two things that day. I hate greyhounds. And I hate vinyl fencing.
There’s another saying, that “cats have nine lives.” That one proved to be true for Gretchin. She remained my companion all through high school, sleeping on my bed in the crook of my legs every night. She also had a special connection with my brother Joel. She allowed him to carry her around in strange configurations, such as gripping each set of paws with each hand then swooshing her body up and down so her head swayed like a cobra. Or often he would just walk around the house holding her up above his head proclaiming that she was “Great Gretchin.” He coined most of her other nicknames, which included: Great Gray Gretchin, Great Gretch, Great Gretchsky, and just Gretchsky.
When I went away to college in
Hawaii she became my pen-pal. Every letter my mom mailed to me included a short message from Gretchin, which was something along the lines of “Ma-mow mer mow mow meow meeeeeow.” After I graduated college Gretchin and I were reunited and she became my favorite roommate and the best kind of companion.
She was cuddly. The moment I sat down on the couch, she hopped up and welcomed herself onto my lap, often trapping me for much longer than I intended to stay. If I scooted her off she would follow to my next destination. In fact, she pretty much followed me everywhere, all the time. Many mornings she would join me into the bathroom, perched on top of the toilet, and just watch me as I got ready for work or school. It felt so nice to know that all she wanted was to be in my presence.
She was talkative. When sprawled out on the floor by my feet, all I had to do was look at her and she would give me a bursting meow. If I wanted a louder more enthusiastic meow, I would reach out and poke her ribs with my hand. This technique was useful when asking her to say hello to someone over the phone. “Hold on Gretchin wants to say hi. (Poke.) ‘MARROW!’” Her and I would carry on conversations back and forth. Her meowing at each turn, and me asking how her day was and complimenting her beautiful coat.
She was affectionate. Somewhere along the way I decided I loved her so much that I wanted to give her kisses. So I would pucker my lips in front of her nose and wait for her to move forward to sniff them. As soon as she was within range I would protrude forward forcing us to touch, thus stealing my kiss. It didn’t take long before she understood that’s what I wanted when I presented my pucker. Then anytime I wanted a kiss, all I had to do was put my lips in front of her, and she would protrude her nose forward until it touched me. I didn’t have to steal the kisses anymore, she gave them freely.
When I first moved into my current apartment and was combining old and new furniture to create my living room I made a fun purchase: A plum Bauhaus armchair. I had been looking for this exact chair on craigslist for weeks and I had finally found it! I was so excited! It would be prefect for curling up and reading in. Guess how many times I curled up and read in that chair? MAYBE once. Gretchin decided the chair was not perfect for human reading but perfect for her. And since she was home more than I was, she won. Eventually I made the discovery that putting a blanket across the arms to create a fort was her favorite place to nap. If she was ever meowing her whiny meow, it was usually because she had jumped up onto the chair and the fort had caved in and she needed me to fix it.
In the last couple years, Gretchin’s affection doubled. She allowed me to craddle her like a baby, preferred to sleep under the covers next to me, and learned how to fold her body into the tiny space between my tummy and the computer desk so we could be together while I typed research papers. When family and friends asked how old she was now, and I told them, they would react with surprise. Yet somehow it never occurred to me how lucky I was to still have my companion. I too was surprised by how old she had gotten to be, but part of me denied her mortality and believed she would live forever.
But sadly, Gretchin’s nine lives finally ran out. This past weekend her kidneys failed. The vet reported that her poor old body required extensive medical attention in order to survive even a few more weeks. So, on May 7, 2012 I gave Gretchin one last kiss as she passed away, after I made the agonizing decision to put her to down. People always say that they wish their pets could talk. Never is it more true than when you have to say goodbye. I tried to express to her how much I love her. And thank her for being such a wonderful friend. And tell her not to be embarrassed or scared. But mostly just that I love her. I hope she understood that.
Gretchin and her sister are together now. Wichen had missed her for 13 years. I will miss her forever.
