Remembering Rosie Lee

 Over 2 weeks have passed since I had to say farewell to my beloved little puddytat, Rosie Liscious Lee. She saw the doctor because she was barely eating. Originally the diagnosis was that a dental cleaning was required, but a deeper investigation found a large tumor in her liver that was pressing down on her stomach and had likely metastasized. The doctor gave her pain meds and appetite stimulants, but after some heart wrenching hours, I decided the kindest action would be to put her out of her misery. If I had kept giving her the medication, it would have been for my benefit, not hers. I realized that I had done this with my beloved Kota, and was not going to be so selfish again.

I had adopted Rosie Lee from a couple who were having a yard sale in Flint Hill. Rob and I had gone to have a look and the lady told me she'd had a cat dumped in her yard. They had 5 of their own who weren't accepting Rosie Lee, or Pewter, as the lady had called her, and she was living in an empty room above the garage. It was hot up there and she was hiding, but came out when coaxed and rubbed against my legs. I was smitten, and knew she deserved a better life, so decided to take her. I hoped Kota would accept her, but being a very special cat himself, I didn't think it would be a problem. The photo above is when he first saw her. There were no fights and very soon became best pals.

 Because she was so small, I had assumed she was only a few months old, so was amazed when the doctor said she was 2-3 years old, judging by her teeth. She always remained a small cat, but Kota looked after her and they were nearly always together.

They each had their own clamshell beds, which after a while, I discovered that Rosie Lee loved nothing more than snuggling inside this, under blankets, and even slept with me every night, inside my bed. When she sat on my lap, I would cover her with a throw, she just loved being wrapped up.

 She was the most affectionate little cat that I've ever known. She followed me everywhere, was always around my ankles, or on my lap, or sleeping next to me. Every room I went to, she came. If I went upstairs, she came too, and then would follow me right back down again. She was my shadow, my constant buddy, and I miss her every minute.

She trusted me implicitly, without reservation. She was often sprawled on her back, whether on a chair, the bed, or my lap. Nothing worried her or fazed her, she was the most accepting and unquestioning little girl ever. She was very particular about her food though. She would eat most things, but did not want her wet food mixed in with her kibble. She had them in separate bowls at every mealtime, and would go from one bowl to the other as her fancy took her. When she lived with Kota, I could leave food out al day and they would both only eat from their bowls, but with Tricksie Treat, this couldn't happen, so food was only put out at mealtimes. Tricksie Treat gobbles down her meals with ferocious relish and was always finished long before Rosie Lee, who liked to take her time. But after each mealtime, Rosie Lee would leave 2 pieces of kibble for Tricksie Treat in her bowl. 

Rosie Lee was very accommodating when it came to photo time. There were few occasions when she wouldn't comply, and most of the time she would pose for a portrait quite happily, always looking very demure and lovable, so sweet that most people thought she didn't have a bad thought ever. But, as she grew up, her personality developed, and she would definitely let me know if my behavior wasn't acceptable.

She wasn't very vocal, and her purr could barely be heard. She would sometimes give a squeak, but her expressions were priceless if things weren't going her way. She was the queen of the stink eye look. Thankfully, this didn't happen often; she was very loving and accepting of nearly everything I did.

I think she really missed her snuggle buddy, Kota, when he passed, they had been so close. She and Tricksie Treat were OK together, but it was apparent that they weren't best friends, so I only saw a few times when they were sitting together, and hoped a deep friendship would develop. It didn’t, but accepted each other without any fights or scuffles.

Rosie Lee used to go outside when we lived at Marshall, but at The Blue House, she became a house cat. Of course, if I went out the back, she would want to come too, and every evening, when the weather was nice, she'd come outside and sniff around the back garden. She would check all the raised beds, and help herself to the catmint, when it was growing. 

She loved racing around the house, zooming along the hallway, and through the rooms. She was an also a superb guard cat. A lot of time was spent looking out of the dining room and lounge windows, and if she saw an intruder, whether it was another cat, an opossum, groundhog, or human, she would emit a deep growl. I always praised her for this, and she would bask in her glory, lapping up the admiring words and accompanying strokes.

I had the fortune to have Rosie Lee as my companion for about 10 years, during which she had 2 feline friends alongside her, so she was never lonely while I was at work, or out and about. But even with Tricksie Treat still with me, there's a vast void in the house and my life. I miss her constantly, and am still looking for her or calling her when I forget that she's passed. My only consellation is knowing that she's now with Kota again, and my last words to her were that he was waiting for her. And later that day, as I was absentmindedly scrolling through my memories on Facebook, one pooped up from 6 years ago. Kota Kat Supreme had passed on the same day as Rosie Liscious Lee, March 29th, 6 years ago to the day. I take that phenomenon as proof that they are together again, and it gives me some comfort.

A Band of Friends and Back Roads

So for a few months Elliott and I had been walking different paths, and decided to break up. I had been depressed for months, and really needed to get my life back on track. Thankfully, I have some incredible friends, who all rallied round and helped me get back in sync, and back to the life I'd been missing. I have 2 small groups of lady friends, and decided to bring them together for a Ladies Night party at my house. I'd spent weeks cleaning and getting my home exactly how I wanted it, and was excited to show it off and use it to entertain again. A couple of ladies from each group showed up early, and we promptly filled some glasses with wine and beer. I could tell immediately this was going to be a successful night, everyone was getting along splendidly.

Everyone invited turned up, so we had a group of 11. The house was toured, with me relishing every 'ooh' and 'aah'. Chairs from the front porch were hauled in and everyone managed to find a spot. Carol had brought a record player with a box of vinyl, so we had superb music. There was enough food to feed a battalion, everyone had outdone themselves, and the dining room table was loaded. There were even pretty little gifts of flowers, a plant, and pottery. And of course, there was the equivalent of a vat of wine. Bottles lined the kitchen countertops, and I was surprised to see that the beer was hardly touched. We were being civilized this evening, with heavy reds, sparking whites and port. Then the lovely twins from up the road turned up, with a huge bottle of Jamesons whiskey. We could party all weekend if we wanted.

The ladies noshed and nattered throughout the evening, and I was elated to see everyone getting on so well. I was already planning a summer party for the group when we could be outside, enjoying the garden and flowers. This group acted like they’d all known each other for years, not a few hours.

Jenn had planned well; she'd brought Joking Hazard, a game similar to Cards against Humanity, but funnier, and also New Phone, Who Dis?, another spinoff, but based on text messages. We chose the latter, divided up into 4 groups, and battle commenced. The room was filled with howls of laughter, and we played a few rounds before declaring the evening should come to an end. And this was where my friends outdid themselves. There was a lot of food left, which the ladies wrapped and put in the fridge. Trash was stashed into a black bag. Some foods were taken away, bowls and glasses were stacked, and the dining room was left immaculate. I couldn't believe it, I had very little to do the next morning.

And so, I woke up on Sunday, with a thumping head and a message from Jen, inviting me downtown for a coffee. The headache was dispelled with lots of water and Advil, then after cleaning up the glasses from last night, I was downtown, sipping coffee with Jen.

Jen had mentioned that the new Ghostbuster car was in town, promoting the new movie's opening weekend, and sure enough, as we sat chatting by the coffee shop window, a posse of ghostbusters walked past, on their way to the cinema, carrying their ghost-catching equipment. After coffee, we walked up to see the car, but it wasn't as impressive as the original vehicle, which as a former hearse, had a lot more street cred. We checked out the local pottery, and then parted company. Jen was going to a winery, she has more stamina than me, that's for sure! 

I was driving down to New Market, to see if I could get anywhere near to the forest fires in the region. Rte 11 across the mountain to Luray was closed, and I'd heard reports that the old National Forest Visitor Center had burned down, as well as Dan's Steakhouse. I was sad to hear this, especially the steakhouse, a place I'd been meaning to visit, hearing their steaks were top notch. I wonder if they'll rebuild. I'd also heard through the grapevine that about 18 houses had been burned. Front Royal residents have been offering Airbnb homes for displaced families, and meadows for any farm animals that needed to be evacuated. We'd had heavy rain overnight, but as an ex-firefighter, I knew one heavy rain would not extinguish them. But I had hoped it might at least open some roads.

The police were blocking roads they didn't want people driving on, so I headed off towards the back dirt roads. Driving through the George Washington forest I had these to myself, there was no other traffic. I had no phone signal so had to read the map on my phone like an old mapbook, constantly checking I was going in the right direction. With windows down, and driving very slowly, it was gorgeous, breathing in the fresh, crisp air. I was amazed that there was no smoke to be seen, but that was a good thing, although I was also very conscious of the fact that I couldn't see or hear any birds.

The shack above made me stop and reverse back for a closer inspection. It was hard to see through the trees, and I was a little apprehensive in case the resident strode out with a shotgun, but this was actually a small caravan, which had been completely encased with a wooden shed-like structure. There were no windows in the wooden sides, only a small opening for the caravan door. Very odd.

I spent some time circling around Short Mountain, marveling at how close I was to 'The Knob', a landmark spur, which is clearly visible from Rte 81. High up on the mountain, there were a lot of caravans, folks living off the grid, although a few had power lines. I didn't stop near any of these as the owners were mostly staring at me, and not in a friendly way. I guess they don't see much traffic up here, except other residents. There were also plenty of 'no trespassing' signs, so I stayed inside the car. 

I had driven quite a few dirt tracks, weaving up and up through the mountain range, and without passing any other vehicles, so was completely amazed when I rounded a corner to see a police car and a park ranger van, with a police lady, and 2 rangers, who were Amish identical twins, with bright ginger beards. The 3 of them stood in the road as I approached, and all 3 were beaming broadly. It was infectious, so I beamed right back at them and came to a stop, winding my window down. I would have loved to ask for a photo of them, but didn't want to spoil the moment. They all approached and ducked down, smiling from ear to ear through my open window. I don't think they'd seen any other people for a while and were all happy to chat. They let me know that although the rain had damped some of the fires, there were still hotspots and flames on higher ground. They very kindly directed me back down to the valley, and waved me on my way.

I gave up my hunt for wildfires after that very sociable encounter, and found another dirt road that wound its way alongside a creek and in the direction of home. Again, I saw very few people, but there were plenty of newborn calves and lambs frolicking in the fields, and a fabulous white sycamore brightly lit by the sunshine. I stopped for a minute or two to admire its white bark shining in the sunlight, and then slowly made my way back to Front Royal.