The Designer Gardens

There was Moshke the hit man, so named because the feral demon appeared for dinner every night, beating up every animal in sight before eating, then leaving. Zephyr was a good-natured and extremely talented thief. He revealed his skill one day when I brought home a shrink-wrapped pack of lamb chops. When I was ready to cook them, I discovered that the fully sealed packet contained not four, but two chops. How could this be? Upon inspection, I found a razor-thin slice along the edge of the packet; Zephyr had surgically opened the packet, slipped his greedy paw in and swiped a couple of chops.

Rose was a sweet stray, a pregnant tabby who appeared at our front door one day and delivered her litter in our closet. We found homes for her kittens, but Rose stuck around and turned into a loyal and loving pet. A smart one, too. She knew exactly when my bus arrived each day and would lead Zephyr down the hill to the bus stop to await my arrival.

After my wife and I married, we moved to Reno, leaving behind the hit man and taking Zephyr and Rose. Unfortunately, we learned too late that people in Reno actually set traps. Zephyr got his right front leg caught in one and had to have the damaged appendage removed. Fortunately, this didn’t deter him from enjoying 10 more years as a three-legged cat.

Rose was a watch cat nonpareil. If our newborn son made even a peep in his crib, she’d run into his room, jump in his crib, then run back to our room, and pounce on our chests, chirping and chiding us to check on the baby. If a discussion got too heated, Rose would insert herself between us, running first to one, then the other, meowing as if to say, “You stop this right now, you hear?” Her stern admonitions often defused the argument, and we’d find ourselves laughing and making up. An impeccable housekeeper, Rose wouldn’t tolerate dirt in any form. Besides constantly grooming herself to a spotless sheen, she’d tackle her dirtball companion, Zephyr, and clean him from ears to tail, too.

After 10 loving years with Rose, we were inconsolable when we lost our girl to feline leukemia. We later adopted one last cat, the wicked and selective Siamese Kima, who didn’t care much for people and eventually succumbed to kidney disease. Yes, I loved all my cats and mourned them all. But this self-professed cat man has to confess: Rose is the cat I’ll never forget.

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