Musings of the Chronologically Challenged™ Fourth Generation
Thursday, April 28, 2005
On a typical summer's day in 1987, Mother and I enjoyed one of our lunch and shopping outings. We were on the way home, when we drove past a newly opened pet shop in town. I had wanted a Himalayan kitten for quite a while, so on a whim, I pulled the car into the parking lot. I told Mother I was going to take a quick look in the new shop to see if they had any Himalayans. The problems with kitty and puppy mills were well known to me, but I hoped since the shop just opened, there wouldn't be any long term "prisoners."
Right at the door where I walked in there was a cage with six gorgeous little Himalayans. One of them came right up to my finger poking through the cage and gave it a rough little tongue lick. Upon inquiring, I learned that the kittens had just been placed that morning by a breeder who had promised the pet store a litter. Further questioning revealed that the "breeder" was a neighbor of mine that I didn't even know - distances between neighbors in the country and all. On the way home, I stopped by the neighbor's house, introduced myself and asked about the kittens. The breeder confirmed the details and price that the pet shop manager had told me. The kittens were, indeed, born and raised in the home, with a resident child, and had just gone to the pet shop that day. All my criterion.
That night I spoke to Mother on the telephone and "we" decided I should get the kitten! I had been a Persian breeder several years before but had never had a Himalayan - which Mother agreeably pointed out! - and she thought I should have it. That was the only nod I needed to go back the next morning and purchase the kitten, since my husband had given up on curtailing my animal obsessions years before. He was raised on a farm and as far as he was concerned cats and dogs were not "pets", but stock. Cats kept rats and mice out of the barn and dogs hunted. However, he always tolerated mine very well, or in any event humored me.
But this feline was not just a cat. She was aristocracy and the precious little blue-eyed darling had to have a name as special as she was. So I began my research in earnest for the perfect name. This was serious business B.G. (Before Google) and required reference books and library visits. Finally I read of a massif of the Himalaya Mountains in north-central Nepal named Annapurna. By adding "Mist", I had a lovely registration name that was accepted on the first submission. So began my life with Annapurna Mist.
For almost 18 years Anna was my constant companion. She shared the happiness, sadness, and ups and downs of my life. In all those years, she was never away from my side more than the few days my job required I be away. When Anna came into my life, my husband and I had a little beach getaway where we went every weekend. Anna always went too and she became an excellent traveller and beach kitty. Oh, the stories of our lives she was a part of and the joy she brought to me! Her story is our family history for almost two decades. The fabric of my family life has Anna threaded through it and she touched every family member. I can never think of Anna and not recall a favorite family story. She was central to many of our classics.
It was my intention to write a memorial to her today and tell some of the humorous and meaningful tales of Anna and the Indigo Family, but I find I'm not up to it after all. After seeing the lovely post at Obnoxious Droppings, I feel any more said would be redundant, and meaningless to BlogWorld in any case. But please visit ObDrop and see the beautiful cat who was my faithful friend for so long.
Rest in Peace, Dear Anna.