bela belly fire Bela came into my life on July 11, 1992. I can't say why that date was memorable other than it was exactly a week from my 13th birthday. My father had announced that morning, "Alright! We've cried enough over Murphy and we need something to help us move on. We're going to the Humane Society." (We went on to blame the 'red car' - otherwise known as the neighbourhood reckless driver - for running Murphy down only two days earlier) On the way to the cat adoption room I plainly stated to my father that a new cat wasn't going to cure me and my sister of our sadness but he knew better - 5 minutes later and we were knee deep in sappy, love-hungry cats. It was a futile effort going with dad; he wanted to rescue the old cats, abandoned by their loved ones. By the end of the trip, the volunteer had so infuriated my dad with her endless questions about his intentions behind the adoption that he stormed out and we left for home - empty handed and more tragic than when we had set out. Mom saved the day, marching us back out to the Humane Society with the remedy, "Point me to your kittens." Bela. Well, she wasn't 'Bela' then...she was kitten (litter of 5). Mom had surprised us, "Girls, pick out two." Two?! If you are on your way to pick out a cat of your own, you will learn one thing: You don't pick a cat, they pick you. She will push past her 4 almost identical sisters and reach through the cage to you. When you pick her up she will tangle herself in your hair and you will say, "This one." as if you ever had a choice. And so it was with Bela. My mom and sister were left to take from the other 4 and we came away with two almost identical sisters. 12 years later I can still freshly experience that day. I can feel her nails like little needles in my arm and shoulder, hear her soft purr. I can call to mind the times that followed...our unique love affair with each other. The sick fear of letting her outside for the first time and the thrill of seeing her appear on the front window ledge...as she would always be known to do thereafter. The steady rap at my door each night, Bela softly chirping at the door jam wanting in. Turning in my sleep later to find her soft back against my cheek. She always smelled of a fragrance. I loved to sew my fingers into her fur and find the heady floral perfume there. My parents marveled at her. Bela brought home many dozens of mice regularly, tucking them between the flower beds or along the sidewalk to the back door. She was not just a mouser but a keen hunter throughout our neighbourhood boldly catching male cardinals, blue jays, and one brilliantly coloured hummingbird. Moving away to College was hard because I knew this dynamic would change...she couldn't come with me. My clothes were no longer covered in tabby fur - save for the visits on holidays, birthdays, and long weekends. In my absence my sister took over. It would break my heart to see Bela curl her paws around my sister's neck and cooly disregard me. When I would fear she had forgotten me she would appear on my pillow later and turn her face into my neck purring as if to say, "Where have you been?" And so we went. Each visit was a game of, "Hello, remember me?" "Yes, of course. Where have you been?" Bela came to love my family in much the same way; they came to know her affections as I knew them. She still showed me that little bit extra though, and never drew any resentment from my time away from home. She seemed to understand that I would come back. How could I be ready for the phone call from mom on Saturday? Between sobs she would tell me that Bela was dying, "I think she can't see, Samantha. She was crying out." That night I dreamed she was crying out my name. It cut into me. Everything became a picture in my mind where I could clearly see her violent seizing, her glazed over eyes, could hear her cry. It cut into me that she would die without any of us there to comfort her. The next morning my dad said okay, yes, and she was put down. I try not to think of her confusion and fear in her last moments before the sleep came. I try to block out the image of her soft, perfumed fur being set alight. $65 please. My kitty. My Bela. My sweet furball of unconditional love and affection. To lose half a life's worth of that - it cuts into me. I try to think of her happy chirps at dinner, her back flips over tiny toy mice in the living room (if you were lucky enough to witness them!). I try to remember all the times she helped me sleep away a cold, times she sat by my bath and went frantic if her tail dipped in and got wet...spending nearly an hour grooming it perfectly dry again. Countless times that she would take centre stage on an art project in progress, tracking little graphite powdered paw prints over 20 hours worth of work. Bela, who would growl and hiss at her almost identical sister only to find them gently bathing each other - a morning ritual. (Does Kasey know she's gone? Does she miss her sister?) I try to remember all those words that would elicit those deep, contented purrs from her: kiss, Beh-laaah, I love you Bey, so muchos. Muchos muchos Bela. I have so many memories that they seem to pop like bubbles in my face and I feel them all over again. And again. I wish I could turn her over in my arms one more time. See her eyes squint and wink with that look that says, "There you are. I love you." It breaks my heart that I couldn't whisper the things she loved to hear before she went and left us. I miss my Bela. 040420 ... birdmad that was heartbreaking and beautiful 040420 ... DammitJanet The one with the crooked tail, the squinty eyes, the tiny stature and the singed fur from when she walked over a burning candle. She'd purr like an engine, entangle herself in freshly worn bra's, and curl up beside you as if it was she that needed the warmth. She was a picky one, choosing wisely who she would pay her loving attention to, and to my suprise, i was one of them. Of course the visit always started out with a "Yes i see you, but i'm pretending not to care at the moment" but that soon stretched to nuzzles, kisses, and flops. Snuggles at the kitchen table, wet noses on the cheeks, and her paws wrapped around. As much as Spike entertained me with his dancing, Maggie made me feel special with her attention, Kasey made me laugh with her howl, and Bean made me wish i could have kept her, it was Bela i was the most excited to see. She had this amazing personality that any human could relate to. Having her accept me was an honour. I kept trying to find something incredible today. Something to write about her that would ring so true. Bela. Czechoslovakian for "she of porcelain skin". Bela. Hungarian for "within". Bela. So much more. 040421 ... belly fire my tears came fresh again. Oh Kathryn, the bras. I forgot about the bras. Fresh tears. 040422 ... belly fire Last night I had a dream of Bela, and somewhere along the line she turned into a rabbit and escaped into my parents' backyard. When I woke up I could feel her...Kat, I just could. I sat up in bed and saw Mia to my left, looking at me with her sleepy eyes. For an instant I was disappointed and I felt terrible for the rest of the day because of it. I know I dreamt of Bela because Wendy and I were talking about cats and the rabbit thing, well, that was only because I watched Cold Mountain yesterday before work (thank you, btw). But what about the feeling? What about that? 041021 ... marked . 041022 what's it to you? who go blather from