favorite memories, part 2

Juliet was somewhat dog-like. Before she lost her hearing, she understood the sounds of my coming home or Robert arriving for a visit, and she'd be waiting at whichever door we were entering through. She'd want to be petted immediately, and then fed, before anything else could happen -- dinner preparations, quiet reflection, or newspaper reading. She'd often follow me throughout the house, changing rooms as I did.

Juliet was a fairly clever cat. I realized that she was picking up language when I rushed home one day and said "I'm really sorry, but I have to go out." Before I knew it, she was standing by the back door, waiting for me to let her Out. I then started to teach her some words -- supper, loud noise (as a warning), and upstairs were important ones. When I noticed that she didn't want a certain vet to touch her ears, I tried to teach her the word ear so that she at least wouldn't be surprised when someone touched her ears. (Robert teased me for years about that one -- he'd touch my ear and say "ear, ear, ear".) And scratch became a command that she understood and received high praise for obeying, when she was in the mood.

In fact, scratch became such a consistent source of attention for her that she started to scratch (appropriately) on her own at certain times. When someone would come in the house or was about to go out, she'd scratch and be rewarded for it. And she also figured out that if she wanted something really badly and was unsuccessful at getting it, she could try scratching to see if it changed our minds.

Juliet was mostly well behaved. In her younger jumping days, she had a weakness for lying on the kitchen island, which had a good southern exposure. She had a clear understanding that the kitchen counters and eating surfaces were strictly off-limits. I'd come downstairs and hear a tha-thump. There'd she be in the kitchen, innocently minding her own business. She'd look up at me sweetly as if to say, "how lovely to see you; I had no idea you were coming into this room." She'd also sleep on the non-business end of the dining room table, again in the sun, and again with the tell-tale tha-thump as I approached.

One day, I came downstairs, and there she was, lying on the dining room table. I cleared my throat, the first step, and usually the only step necessary for me to express my displeasure. This time, she looked at me in astonishment (imagine a teenager saying "Wa-uuuuh?"). I realized that she was not actually *on* the dining room table. No, I had placed a little quilted pillow-top on that end of the table and she was on *that*. Somehow, she'd realized that the pillow-top was not on the forbidden list. There are some battles that you just can't win.

She was compassionate and had a special understanding for certain situations. She did not like children much, but she tolerated their supervised behavior well and allowed tiny kids to pet her spastically. Once, I had an out of town visitor who brought his baby. While here, the baby got sick and we rushed off to the local e-room in the middle of the night. To my great surprise, when we came back exhausted and all got onto my bed to rest, Juliet joined us. She kept a respectful distance from the baby, but seemed actively concerned about him, too.

She was wonderful when I was sick and would patiently lie quietly by my side all day. I'm sure that in my sickest moments, I still managed to take care of her, but she never demanded that I do so while I was sleeping off an illness. She was also a great nap kitty. She could be doing anything -- playing, napping, eating -- but if I wanted to take a nap, I needed to just find her and carry her to bed with me. She'd look pleased, as if to say, "oh goodie! I know what's coming," and get comfortable next to me, snoozing and waiting until I was ready to wake up.

And finally, at different holidays, I'd put curled ribbons on her collar, appropriately colored for the event (red and green for christmas, for example). The color didn't really matter, because her black fur made all the ribbons look great. One gay pride, I put lavender and pink ribbons on her just before running out the door to attend the parade. I noticed my neighbor, and he came over to talk to me. He looked down, saw the ribbons, and said "what's the matter with your cat? she looks like a Poof cat to me!" How little did he know!