In Grief, We Shared Our Love
“For Tabby, there are probably more cycles like this in her lifetime. For us, it was a sort of happy closure” - A household pet brings a family grief, loss, and love.
Her terms were unilateral and unyielding, but she was easy to appease. Her visits were predictable but all we were allowed to do was to gaze at her. She was an enigma. And it was pure magic that Tabby brought to our lives.
After we moved from an apartment into an independent house in a community, we came under relentless assault from our daughters to get a dog. However, any attempt to get them to commit to taking responsibility for the pet was brusquely brushed away. Eventually, my husband and I found a clever way to end these conversations. We pointed out what a handful the two of them were, and how we were not yet ready for a third.
Then, one day, along came a stray cat whom we christened Tabby. Far from being the cuddlesome gift we expected, Tabby was always grumpy and averse to human contact. But even as she remained aloof, she made us yearn for her love. It was as though she was blessing us with her visits.
Her way of setting her own rules and getting by without any support or sympathy was admirable. This was the personality trait that appealed to my husband and I. How we wished we had this ability!
Tabby never expected us to host her, and quickly earned the dislike of our daughters, who couldn’t fathom how a prospective pet would not want to be petted. Her way of setting her own rules and getting by without any support or sympathy was admirable. This was the personality trait that appealed to my husband and I. How we wished we had this ability!
We defended Tabby when she scratched our daughter, when she tried to get close to her. It was rather like a sibling rivalry between our second and third baby. The daughters were amused with our attempts at parenting! And we started believing that in-spite of the no-touch rule that defined Tabby’s aloofness, we were actually bonding with her.
It came as a complete shock one day when we found Tabby carrying a kitten. I felt like an idiot for not having realized she was pregnant. We were thrilled to see her depositing a kitten behind our shoe rack. Immediately afterwards, she became restless and moved frantically between our front and backyards. Intrigued, we followed her.
Perched above the roof in the backyard was another small shivering white bundle, staring at us with piercing black eyes. Tabby jumped, alighted, and tried all sorts of manoeuvres to reach the kitten, but to no avail. She was tiring, the kitten was agitated, and we could not take it any longer. My husband, risking Tabby’s fierce looks, rescued the kitten and deposited it along with its sibling in the front yard.
Tabby behaved as though it was the least she expected of us; there was no obvious sign of gratitude. And she gave us a nasty look if anyone so much as peeked behind the shoe rack. She didn’t hesitate to snarl and kept guard by taking over our veranda chair and sprawling herself over it. She now demanded milk two to three times a day, and we were only happy to indulge her.
In our household, the unspoken rule was not to venture too close to the shoe rack. We cleared a passage to make space behind the rack and placed a feeding bowl in this area to ensure Tabby had some milk handy, whenever she felt tired or needed it. A routine was set. We would feed Tabby first, and then the kittens would suckle. Playtime came next. The little family would then occupy the doormat in the veranda and bask in the sun, with the kittens suckling and playing in turn. Tabby would close her eyes, dreamy and content. In these moments, we saw a gentler side to her personality, as she indulged her kittens and let them pull her tail.
The kittens were gorgeous. Tiny creatures with snowy skin and grey patches, they looked at the world with enticing eyes. The rescued kitten was still experiencing a kind of trauma and would tremble and run away at the sight of anyone. Her sibling was getting bolder and would stare back at us.
The household was now completely bewitched; each one had a special relation to the mother and kids. My husband would come out of his home-office every hour or so to talk to Tabby and to gaze at the kittens. He believed he had a right to this audience, because he had rescued the little one. For my mother, who was going through a rough time due to health issues, Tabby brought back joyous memories of her younger days when she had a cat. Father would encourage her to come out to watch the kittens, letting go of his inexplicable fear of pets. My daughters were bowled over too, though still holding a grudge against Tabby for not letting them touch her or the kittens. I found this cat family charming and it reminded me of the days when I was a young mother and our entire household was centred around the needs of the babies.
During this time, our relationship with Tabby had changed imperceptibly and had become more personal. My daughters got over their grudge against Tabby and offered her sympathy and kind words. My husband tried to be pragmatic, but grew quiet whenever he locked eyes with Tabby. It was as though they were both lamenting the ways of the world.
One morning, Tabby arrived for her usual drink and then proceeded to check on her kittens. Soon, she became increasingly frantic.
When she couldn’t find them anywhere, the entire household helped her search. We turned the shoe rack upside down, opened the electricity meter cabin and the garbage bin. We climbed the parapet wall and peeked into all the nooks and corners of the roof. We enquired in the neighbourhood. We checked with the security if anybody was seen with the kittens.
No sign of them anywhere.
All the while, Tabby was listlessly roaming and crying out. She would peep inside racks and cupboards and moan. She would stand still, suddenly appear to pick a scent, rush away somewhere and come back with a pitiful whine.
It was heart wrenching to watch. More heart-breaking still was that Tabby, known for her aloofness, would appear to beseech us, and start moaning. It was the worst collective grief my family had faced.
Tabby with her morning milk. Photo: Sumathy Krishnan
This lasted for about five days. During this time, our relationship with Tabby had changed imperceptibly and had become more personal. My daughters got over their grudge against Tabby and offered her sympathy and kind words. My husband tried to be pragmatic, but grew quiet whenever he locked eyes with Tabby. It was as though they were both lamenting the ways of the world. My father overcame his life-long dread for pets and tried to chat with Tabby. My mother comforted my father, reversing their roles, especially after her recent sickness.
Soon, Tabby grew resigned to the loss of her beloved kittens and life as we knew it, resumed. I watched as a male cat in the neighbourhood tried to woo Tabby. True to her nature, Tabby didn’t seem to give him the time of day and resumed her aloofness and icy reserve.
Three months later, Tabby has another surprise in store for us.
Now, three kittens tag Tabby and tentatively take the positions behind the shoe rack. While it hurts that they do not stay long and limit their visits to twice a day, it makes us happy to see the family complete again. We cannot but admire Tabby’s cleverness in choosing a different, safer spot for the kittens. She is still weary, but there is an easy bonhomie this time. She lets the kittens explore the place and come near us, but carefully shepherds them away every time. One of the kittens is like the one she had before, which does make our heart ache. The other two are just like Tabby—featuring her signature aloofness.
For Tabby, there are probably more cycles like this in her lifetime. For us, it was a sort of happy closure, well-timed with my parents leaving for home after their visit with us.
In grief, Tabby opened her heart to us and learnt to love; And the circle of life ensured that the love goes around.
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Sumathy Krishnan is a free lance writer based in Bangalore. Her writings reflect her philosophy to choose to live on the greener side of life through conscious choices. Her work can be found at http://alwaysonthegreenerside.blogspot.com/ and she can be reached at ksumathykrishnan@gmail.com.
