Our Baby Thing




Baby Thing, Our Precious Foundling, Fairylike, Dainty Girl







Our precious Baby Thing, when she was still very young and wild.
Ever-nervous and skittish, Baby Thing would learn to relax over her next eighteen years.
She went to Heaven last year, at nineteen, by then a regal, calm, very wise and still dainty fairy of a girl cat.
Diminuitive, she was always a little waif.
Her story continues...




Baby Thing
 Poem 


A Princess
lost into the woods
an orphan kitten
never could
feel safe until
she had real love

she met the dashing
Teddy Bear
and followed him
just everywhere
A Prince indeed
their romance became
an example for
even the tamed
and lasted for
many loving years
and forever, of course
in Heaven now

her daintiness
her sweetest voice
her babyishness
was never coy
an innocence
born from the wild
a feral girl
a lost small child
like a little Chinese dragon
her shape her stance
her face flatterned
her fur a palest shade
of gray
her softness unlike
others, they

her company
an intimacy
communication
a comradery
that no one else
was privy to
a long-won treasure
blessed only to few
she felt real love

and gave it, too
generously
when once was won
her heart
would never part
us again


Why her name? 
Since she was a feral kitten who'd apparently followed Teddy, our adopted giant male cat, home one day, utterly lost from her mom and litter mates, she would not come near enough for us to ascertain her sex, so we called her "Baby Thing".
But she absolutely adored Teddy, who, so differently from all other male cats, was like a guardian angel over little kittens, and coud always be found (in the days before I'd understood that cats should always be kept inside for their own health and to save the 240 songbirds each cat who goes outside kills every year), playing with our neighbors' kittens.
At that time we lived in an enchanted forest by the sea, with a glorious hillside and many hidden oases of fruit-tree and palm-shaded homes among the true shady oaks, an area filled with wildlife and the echoes of migrating birds who'd call our area of the West Coast home for awhile twice a year, along with the monarch butterflies as they'd wing their way southward and northward, depending upon the season.
It was a wonderful time, and a marvelous place for my pets to live and to cherish.
The tiny kitten girl would mew in her high-pitched voice as she'd push herself onto her toes to beg him to stay with her, her feminine little fairy form a study in beauty even more than are all cats.
During several weeks, I'd have to bring Teddy food and water outside, since he was compelled to stay at the baby's side. She scream in panic if he tried to come near the door!
I'd take her delectable tidbits since I knew she was barely old enough to eat real food, and speak to her softly, but her steadfast fear of any but Teddy would remain for months, even after I'd finally hidden outside while the door was open and Teddy led the way inside. Despite the little child's wariness, she, in her stark need of her protector, followed him inside, then I quickly closed the door, allowed her to run around and hide, and eventually, to find her place beside Teddy Bear.
I had to keep her inside for a couple of months, but the cats had a lovely window wall that allowed them to sunbathe liberally each afternoon and to watch the wildlife on the hillside under the trees, as well as to watch the constant shuffling of the surf just beyond. 
We even had a clear stream that ran on the side of the house, and I knew that, had any billionaires known of our hidden abode, they would have envied us our fairytale cottage in the woods by the sea.
She remained a Baby, babyish, never growing very large, and she always kept her little girl voice. She was the most graceful being I've ever seen, and I often referred to her as a ballerina of a cat girl.



She walked like a little Asian cat, and seemed to have some Persian traits, like the semi-flat precious face and the way her front paws turned out just a tad, and her back legs were on tip toes, plus her cute voice seemed a bit exotic.

The Story of Baby Thing

She stood on her tiptoes, just like a tiny ballerina, and was just like a gorgeous little doll, a little toy girl.

Charming, she'd cock her pretty head a little when we'd converse, just to let me know she was engaged and interested, and, of course, she'd respond with a word or two.

Knowing each other for almost twenty years, years of close daily contact, usually sleeping in the same bed, she well knew many of the words I was speaking -especially since I'd gear my comments toward things Baby Thing was interested in.

No matter, since she'd understand my tone and my intent to converse with her amiably, like two young ladies at a teaparty.

She was truly a beauty, just stunningly so - precious in every way - far more so than all the entrancing felines - and there's no such thing as an unlovely cat - I've seen or known in my life - a life so rich with feline family members and friends.


She was famously nimble, like a little Ninja, - much more so than all the other nimble cats - and lively, and even when in repose, was alive with mental energy.

Her purring was dainty, too, like all of her, and she had a way of putting her head toward me, cuddling in with her whole head, and being close.

Known also as "Needle Claws", she'd hold my finger with her paw, and would carefully refrain from getting her claws into my skin, although she'd pulse-hold my finger, as I'd her paw, in affectionate squeezes.

I miss lying next to her, and her portrait sits next to my bed.

I sleep with her son and daughter, who are seventeen now, and her photo with her husband, Teddy Bear, is on the wall.

The Grays - the Gray Family - that it was my life's privilage to host, have blessed me in countless ways.


Baby Thing


She was eighteen years old and still fairylike, entrancingly beautiful, graceful, and, always diminiative, was as charmingly engaging and communicative, as caring, and as loving as any being has ever been.

She was a little waif, lost, from her litter, who’d followed Teddy Bear, her adored and adoring adopted (? Or real?), father,  life companion and later, husband, home.

They lived together in peaceful, kind, lovingness, in gorgeous mansions, for longer than most couples of any specie ever get to spend, or even know how – until he died, at twenty-four, in November, 2002 – having enjoyed twelve golden years together.

I’ve never seen such love and devotion in my entire life – well, maybe on occasion, when I’ve seen birds who mate for life loving each other – but certainly never even in the sweetest romance novel could primates ever exhibit such unerring devotion and caring, tending, and protection of each other.

We primates can only dream about it – and this rare couple – this blessed pair – were my family members for many years, and since many have clamored to hear more about them, here is their story.



Baby Thing and Beau


It's the 29th of September, and she's been gone since last WInter - and is buried, with Thor and the tiny ones, at a pet cemetary, awaiting the place where we all  - all of us - will rest eternally - together forever.


I just opened the tape and CD box of memento music I had had last in my room at our family home, where Baby Thing died just a month after our last, sunny afternoon together, as girls, conversing, playing, just talking and enjoying being together, and sitting on the floor, remembering our lost loved ones.

She and I spoke of Teddy, who had gone to Heaven in Autumn of 2002, and we commiserated, and loved one another.

She was like my Little Mama, and so comforting - so together with my own soul.

A tiny, graceful ballerina of a cat - so intelligent - so beautiful - exquisite, and diminuitive, she was also a master communicator, and her little head would turn right and left, and her voicing, so full of intonation and meaning, was conversationally right on cue with whatever we spoke about.

Yes, after having been together for eighteen years, she well understood everything I said - and followed at least keywords that interested or involved her at the moment.

A little bit of her fur remained when I took the tapes and CDs out the other night, and I dissolved in tearful recollections of our last "music and pity party" together, that sunny WInter afternoon.

She was the sister I'd alays longed for - a really intimate companion who understood me, how it was to be a little and beautiful doll, and to lose those you love.

Just now, I took the plastic box with its' fragrance and fur of Baby Thing, to Beau, reclining on my bved in another place , another bed, another sheet, curtains, and yet our same faces - and he so reacted to remembering her that for a moment I wished I had not brought it in - you see - he was her son.

We'd always been together, and he misses her terribly, I'm sure.


She was - and always will be - adored and loved and cherished.


Other Episodes to Follow:


Junior Lost


Squeaker Devastated, had fought against Teddy being there, pro Junior


Teddy moved in after Jr. gone



Little Orphan Waif


Teddy's Charge


Prince Charming on the Hill


Teddy Love, Husband, Father


The Three Babies


One Gone


The Big F and saved from


The big flood and the Babies carried in zipper totes across the mountains on foot to teh highway to avoid the swollen, raging river, the footbridge having been washed away, the highway closed to all but officials and news teams. Hitching a ride with news team to Santa Monica to evacuate us.


Taking the Babies out after the earthquake, in anticipation of aftershocks.


Auntie Squeak


Baby Thing Grows, becomes one with our family, and the efforts to come above to her loft room to tame  tame her


Her long romance with Teddy, Soulmates Forever, my bro and flight away, etc.

Teddy goes



How Her Last Years Were Extended Comfortably and Healthily



Our Teddy



Our Junior



Our Squeaker



How Baby Thing Benefitted From Special Tending For Older Cats:


Older cats, as with us and every other specie, deserve the very best lifestyle.

Peacefulness, a quiet window with full sun, a soft, clean bed, lots of filtered water available, and the best food - soft, fresh, with veggies and brown rice, plus supplements and herbs for elderly cats, and special massage and petting after eating helps extend their lives.


Why massage and stroking after meals?

Because older cats need the stimulation to help them digest their food.


And, they need several meals a day. 

And, lots of love and sweet talking from you, sleeping with you, and closeness - let them know you adore and need them every day.



Baby Thing 


So much to relate, to save, to savor….to remember forever…


My little girl. My perfect little being.

A ballerina of a cat girl – exquisitely graceful, diminuitive, adorable, and loving.


She thrived on love.

Love.

“The Look of Love” ,just played in the car on a lonely 2 a.m. drive home from a fool’s errandat the end of a horrible day.

A day filled with traitors and traps.


And my eyes misted over, realizing that YOU had had the look of love, more than anyone I’ve ever known.


And remembering that it had taken me – and you – years and years of built-on trust in order for me to be shown that look of love – in order for your native feral tenseness to melt into a half lowered lidded, relaxed , loving gaze of tenderness and tranquility when you’d regard me.


So much trust. So much time we had – we two – to get to know , and to adore, one another.


Nineteen years almost.


We can’t complain.


Except I need you. Miss you. Adore you. Will always seek your beautiful face – your eyes filled with love – your tiny paws kneading my knee, your complete relaxation on lying on my legs, the utter softness of your silvery, fine fur, your even finer intelligence, and the way you , after so long, understood almost every word I said – at least, concerning you.


And the way you’d engage me in conversation, cocking your head in interest, pointing with your tiny aristocratic nose to what you desired of me, thanking me in your special ways.


Just being THE best company ever – my gal pal, my daughter.


My loved one.

Forever!


I just was looking at my photo of a young, awkward, intense, scared little uptight Baby Baby Thing, and marveled at the demure, self-possessed beauty – the one I would call “wise” and “knowing”, the deep, intelligent girl who knew so many human words, who’d cock her head in polite conversations, whose sing-song gorgeous purry songs – our duets – would ring out of our souls as we’d commune, whose total confidence in my enduring love would lead to such trust – as she’d cling lovingly to my knee, laying lengthwise along my thigh, in utter contemtment – her safest place in the world, since Teddy had gone on ahead, that is.


And I realize how very, very far my Girl had come from her anxiety-ridden beginnings living constantly in fear and insecurity.


I thought I’d never tame her or win her trust.


How marvelous our love was, - and is!


And will always continue.


I see her, feel her around me.

Now it’s march 3, Sonny’s birthday.


I’m in another place, another house.


I am out of the shower and about to polish my toenails.

The last time I had done that you were still here, there, downstairs then, but for a year had beeen – or even more – in the room where the sunshine spolashed on your lovely face , your fur igniting into a splendid silver, your golden eyes matching that of the sun himself.


I kept my nail poliah there, on the fuscia satin coverlet I let only you recline on, and played with you as we sat there, admiring the fine sunshine and being alone together, we two.

Savoring our “us” time, the time you’d never had before, the time now, I realize, having made friends/making friends/ with another little feral female here whose nest is in a tree, or was until she’d moved it, rains coming, to an old shed.

I see her sweet white and black face peering out and pondering I looking at her.

She almost let herself eat the food I’d brought her, but has allowed me to pet her twice.


She’s not as fine, as beautiful or diminuitive as you, Darling, but the wildness, the wishing to be held, to have someone larger to fend for her reminds me of you and your push-pull emotions as you slowly, bravely, tamed the latter into submission and gave all of yourself to my care.


I miss your conversational attitude, as you’d turn your face, interestedly, cocking it and looking intelligently, thoughtfully, at me as I’d speak to you in sentences I knew you understood – whether you did or not, your manners were inborn.


You and Thor, your little dog bro (big in size, Rottie, younger in years), Thor, who passed away in August of 05, post my concussion or was it before? Or after,? The year Paul died?


Anyway, Thor , full of love galore, was , like you, well-mannered, gentlemanly as you were lady-like. 

Innate, inborn, gracefulness, beauty and refinement belonged to you both, and he, too, used to cock his head and graciously nod and listen as I’d talk to him, engagingly, charmingly, just like you used to do.


I'm so blessed to have been able to provide the queenly surroundings you deserved, Sweetness.


The others try to be conversational, to please me, to be cool, to be accompolished, et al, and yet only Baby Thing had it all, didn’t you, Sweet?


Our I guess eighteen years together were usually wonderful.


I have so much more to speak about!

I write it all to you, my Precious.


I love you.

You are SO missed!


Baby Thing

   add Baby Thing, a perfect Dream

beautiful Girl

blessed my World


feminine

and demure

dainty 

and more


soulfulness

devoted One

a sweetness

into my life

had come

the day I heard

your tiny voice

lost Kitten

wandering 

in the woods



Baby Thing

makes my heart sing

enchanting!

shy

endearing

sigh

daintiness

femininity

graceful form

agility

a baby's voice

intelligence

far beyond

what we can sense

a knowingness

wisdom there

a trust, at last,

she gave me, 

there, 

toward the end

of her life

I had won her heart

but she had held mine

from the very start

and always 

always 

will..




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