Wednesday, September 5, 2012

August 10, 2012

Dear Caesar,
It's hard to believe it's been 14 years already.  I still remember that summer day in Grandpa & Grandma's back yard.  I heard a squeaking noise in the garden.  I went toward the apple tree by the fence and there you were: a beautifully marked little kitten. It was like you found me.  I scooped you up and you melted in my arms.  You always loved being held like a baby.  I was reading Julius Caesar at the time.  At first I thought you were a girl so I named you 'Portia' after the female lead in the play.  But we soon figure out you were really a Caesar.  You sat on my lap the whole drive home.  You curled up on my chest and slept.  You always hated it when I left; I'd come home to sounds of you whining.  We started out in that tiny apartment with the fire escape, and then we moved all the way down to LA. You got to stay in motels.  You always found your food and litter box.  You adapted well to life in LA, but we were both lonely there.  You comforted me--my best friend--through those confusing and angsty years in my early-mid twenties.  You loved me no matter what I did, or how I looked.  You just wanted to curl up beside me and have your chin rubbed.  When Dan came into the picture, you were threatened.  It took you a long time to warm up to him, but when you did, it was a beautiful thing to watch.  The three of us would sleep soundly, all with the help of your purr lulling us to sleep every night.  Remember when your tail caught on fire from the candle?  We had a lot of fun memories in that apartment, didn't we?  Then you got to move into a house, which you loved.  So many new places for you to curl up and burrow.  We got you a harness and leash so you could go for walks in the backyard.  All you wanted to do was eat grass.  You loved grass so much!  The only human food you'd ever touch was yellow fin tuna.  Only the finest for you.  When we moved into our current house, you immediately made friends with the basement.  We decided to make the guest room off limits so guests with allergies could get a good night's sleep.  You were persistent, though.  And now, of course, it's your room, your oasis, your hospital.  You've always been a fiercely independent cat, an only child with particular tastes.  You taught me how to take care of something else, and to think less about my own needs.  You reminded me that staying in on a Friday night was just fine.  I'll always think of you hiding in cupboards, sleeping on your favorite round chair, walking on our heads at night, and swiping at the dog.  I'll never forget you, little guy. I love you so much.
Your daddy.