Ada jumps onto my desk and saunters back and forth in front of the computer screen. She stops and looks at me, eyes meeting eyes. I pat my lap gently and say softly, "Come on down." She plops onto my knees and sits up right as I stroke her head and back with strong, firm movements. Every now and again she turns her head and looks at me, eyes meeting eyes. Ever and always on her guard, back up-right, up-tight, she allows me to stroke and even gently kiss her on the top of her head. And then suddenly she has gone, jumped, plopped down and wandered out to sit by the window.
Ada Mae was one of a litter of three. Her siblings, Annie and Abel were little darlings that everyone "oohed" and "aah-ed" about. I came to visit them five years ago after deciding that Molly Mabel needed a friend for those long, lonely hours when we were away at work or travel. Annie, Abel and Ada lived in a small apartment with Amber, a young student intern and her companion, accompanied by five other adult cats, two large dogs, a new litter of six kittens and two enormous lizards in a tank above the fireplace. Ada sat apart from everyone at the top of a sofa and watched. I watched her watch. Attracted to Annie kitten I only noticed Ada as just one of the three siblings. One day Amber came to my office at the Center. She told me that everyone adored Annie and Abel and no one noticed Ada who was always apart and alone. She was worried about Ada and wanted her to go to a loving home. I came by the next day and spent an hour or so watching Ada watch us, tentative, gentle, sweet, careful and alone. "I'll take her!" I declared sensing her unique character. A few weeks later the kittens turned 8 weeks old and Ada came home.
Just a small kitten in a box, she had been playful and loving while waiting in my office where Amber delivered her. When we arrived home I sat on the floor in the dining room with the new kitten in a box. Molly entered the room. I opened the door to the cat carrier and as Ada emerged so did a huge, low growl from deep inside her throat and chest. It boomed out and reverberated around the room. I gasped. Molly backed up, hair rising and started to hiss. I cried. The friends met.
A few months later I gave Ada the second part of her name: Mae. You see, as Ada saunters, she sways the back part of her haunches flirtatiously from side to side. When Sue was here, she said that Ada looks like she's wearing her very best dress all the time. It has taken Ada years to sit on my lap, even with back up-right. Always careful, watchful and aloof, Ada Mae stands apart and yet keeps close by. At times Ada runs around the apartment and jumps up the climbing pole right to the ceiling with a yowl of delight. When we first arrived in Philadelphia after the long drive from Buffalo, Ada ran from room to room growling and yowling, her despair at the strange new place reverberating around the empty walls.
I think she used to have to wait for a very long time to be allowed to eat food when she was a kitten in that apartment full of animals. Even now years later, when her bowl is empty she becomes agitated and sits nearby until it is refilled. Yesterday I told T. that if I die he must be sure to remember to keep her bowl full. It is just one of those fears she acquired when she was young and I have great respect for the fears of others. He promised me he would.
Your affectionate observation of her is so sweet and lovely. Gosh, cats are mostly not easy, are they? Emma only started coming and cuddling up in my lap when she was old (12 or 13), so Ada may still get around to this. Actually, there are downsides to being sat on constantly irrespective of whether one is busy, already too hot, trying to get to sleep... :-)
Posted by: Jean | January 31, 2006 at 09:29 AM
Jean,
It has taken Ada years to dare to sit on me the way she does lately. She is amazing. Sitting up right and alert and looking into my eyes from time to time as she allows me to stroke her. She reminds me so much of myself ... always on guard ... just in case ... and yet, at the same time, longing for the closeness.
Posted by: Tamar | January 31, 2006 at 05:10 PM
Tamar~ I've been 'away' for six weeks or so and I've just spent the last hour catching up at "Tamarika". My heart is full of gratitude and joy. Thank you for gracing my life with your wisdom and insight. And... I absolutely love the picture of you when you were little. Precious!
Posted by: Gemma Grace | February 01, 2006 at 12:17 AM
Ada is fortunate to have such a patient and loving caretaker. We have four snugglers-of-varying-degrees, sometimes all wanting attention at the same time. When I stretch my legs out on the sofa, I can accomodate two at a time.
Posted by: Heidi | February 01, 2006 at 11:34 AM
Hey Gemma - good to hear from you again. I was wondering where you were.
Heidi, I would love to have four - or even six! T. has agreed to the two we have right now and makes funny faces when I mention more ...
Posted by: Tamar | February 01, 2006 at 05:31 PM
Tamar, this lovely post got me thinking and blogging about my relationship with my furry friend - and thank you for your kind words in response to that. A beautiful tribute, and your final paragraph is very touching.
Posted by: mary | February 04, 2006 at 04:04 AM
Tell Ada that I also love her, forever:)
Posted by: Leanne | February 04, 2006 at 09:51 PM