Connie – she hated me from day one…
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As a teenager I wanted a pet to love and one to love me back. One out of two ain’t bad.
My childhood was full of animals; dogs, cats, budgies and fish. Each one was either buried deep in the backyard, ‘living on a farm’ or flushed.
When my then 14-year-old brother brought home a teeny tiny kitten who had been abandoned in a warehouse. I excitedly made her my bestie.
We called the kitten Connie after Cyclone Connie.
Cyclone Connie caused damage to a community in the North West of Australia for a short period of time. Our Connie caused chaos for decades, daily.
She hated everyone and this made me love her even more. She would enjoy a scratch behind the ear, a stroke on the head and maybe a belly rub. Then, after a (very short) time she would go nuts. I’m talking teeth and claws.
She would rub up to people and invite them to touch her – then go berserk. Cat. Shit. Crazy.
I would suggest people shouldn’t touch her and if they ignored my advice, I’d just head for the bandages.
And she was judgy
One look into her eyes and you would feel the huffy sighs and deep silences.
In the beginning, I would nestle with kitten Connie on my bed, yearning to bond. As long as I didn’t touch her she would sleep in my bed. The contortion required to ensure her sleep was not disturbed is hailed as Yoga today.
I started to get a little concerned when I would wake with her staring at me, no expression like she had been there for hours watching me breathe.
The food and drink bowl was full. Was she hungry – for my face?
The morning I woke to her licking my nose, I knew it was time.
Leaving Home
I was moving out and the cat was staying. Sorry, Mum.
On moving morning I woke panicked and out of breath. Only to find Connie laying on my chest staring at my toes, tail flicking my nose. She knew.
When I left, my mother tried her best to connect with the cat. After a short time, Connie built a fortress in the roof to stare down the mice. A win-win for everyone.
As the years progressed, Connie would come down from her observation deck, sit on the couch to conduct reconnaissance, eyes closed and purring.
Mum’s friends would see her sleeping peacefully, amazed that ‘Connie the Crazy’ was so placid – finally.
No one in the know ever sat next to her.
The End
At cocktail hour one afternoon a new neighbour approached Connie and confidently stroked her head. Everyone in the room held their breath and waited for the horror show.
Connie didn’t flinch, give an angry side eye or lash out in a rage. In fact, she did not move at all.
When the new friend lifted her hand cat hair came with her. In clumps.
Mum said “Oh yes, Connie died last week – I haven’t had the heart to bury her.”
Cue the sound of hurried steps, door slamming and a call to me.
New neighbour: “I’m worried about your Mother”
Me: “Aren’t we all”.
Connie reigned for 19 years, I often wake dreaming of her. I continue to worry about my Mother.