Rosemary Is For Remembrance
Remembering a very special friend
Many years ago I had a lovely grey cat named Rosemary. She was one of a kindle of three kittens we found (along with her two brothers whom we named Parsley and Sage)that someone had thrown out of a car, into the woods.
Of all the cats I have ever lived with, Rosemary was the quietest. She rarely ever made a sound. She was standoffish and shy around most people. But in the deliberate way that cats have, she chose me to be her best friend.
Whenever I walked through the woods that skirted the back of my house, Rosemary always walked with me. Sometimes she would step a bit before me or a bit back, like a companionable dog. Other times, in a very feline way, she would bound in front of me, then dash up a tree and silently watch me pass underneath.
Rosemary was a living example of how we sometimes don’t need words to understand each other’s moods and feelings. For example, if I got into bed at night feeling happy or content, Rosemary would sleep at the foot of my bed, feeling no need to come closer, often leaving the bed before dawn.
However, if I crawled into bed feeling sad and depressed, Rosemary would immediately come up close to me, rub her small face against mine, and then curl up against the small of my back, where she would remain until morning.
