Felix
I wondered what Felix knew.
John left me Felix.
Together we brought our kitten home from the Central Valley one afternoon in 2009. He was a uniquely beautiful Apple Head Siamese, all white with Tahoe-blue eyes and a silver fur trim along his ears, tail and head.
Even as a baby, Felix had the Siamese meow. He exercised it in the car on the way home. He was scared. Stupidly, we did not bring a cat carrier so he hid under my seat, a place from which I had to drag him when we arrived home.
Felix took a few days to forget his fear and we took a few minutes to fall in love with our pretty and soft, furry kitty.
Felix slowly chose John as his person. He sat on my lap until John walked into the room and sat in his recliner. Felix took no time to leap from my bones to John’s soft bellied lap. He curled up behind my knees as I fell asleep at night, but I found him spooned with John each morning.
That was my spot!
John teased him with strings, chased him down our hallways and stroked his fur while he purred profusely.
As John’s illness progressed and he spent more and more time in his chair, Felix became part of John’s lap. When John slept late in the morning, I wandered by the bed and watched Felix and John cuddle.
I wondered what Felix knew.
Since John has left us, Felix has chosen me. He has no other choice. But something is different. If I leave for a few days, Felix is glued to me when I return. For the next few days I wear Felix. It’s as though he’s desperate.
“Don’t leave me, Erica. You are my last person. I need you.”
Felix hears the TV go on at night. That is his signal to sit on my lap. He knows I will be in one place for a time. When I need to pee, Felix sits by me patiently waiting for the toilet to flush. That is his signal to walk into the kitchen looking back to ensure I’m following him. It’s his treat time. He gets a treat when I pee.
When he decides it’s nap time, he screams his Siamese meow as though he is announcing he is not to be disturbed. At 11 PM, he jumps on my bed knowing I will join him shortly. He puts his paws up on my legs when he just wants me to pick him up and hold him. When he looks for me, he knows to come to my desk where I type on my computer. He just sits and looks at me until I raise him up.
He communicates with me. I don’t know what or if he thinks like I imagine, but I know something swirls in his brain that says, “She is now the one”. If John were to return tomorrow, Felix would return to John’s lap.
Dogs are very open about their relationships with their humans, unlike cats.
I believe there is an internal animal love that motivates Felix. I try to give him what he wants and needs, and I feel reassured when he purrs. But I know Felix accompanies me in my grief as he is also mourning John.
He and I both lost weight after John died. We both quit speaking to our outside worlds. He sleeps more; I sleep less. Now, slowly we are returning to a more social society, but I wonder what lies ahead. I leave my house now, but I must let Felix know I will be back. I pet his head and pretend he understands me.
We are aging. We both have arthritis. Felix gets his shot once a month. I, every three. I feel his need for me as I feel mine for him. We have learned to share our home together without John.
Felix is sixteen. I wonder who will outlast the other
.