This is my front doorpost. To some, this might appear unsightly, something that needs to be repaired. To me, this is a very precious part of my home.
Since I moved into this house 23 years ago, there have been many cats who have called my place home. The first two were kittens that came from the last litter born at my Grandad's place while he was alive. A couple more were cats that we chose to have as pets. The rest were a mix of dumpees, strays, and feral cats, who found their way to my place. I have also fostered a number of kittens over the years, and had a few retirees spend their twilight season with me. Seven of my eight current cats are rescues (two of those are foster fails, whom I could not bear to part with), and the eighth cat is my daughter's 16 year-old gatita, Baby Moo. Each cat was, and is, precious to me, from the foster kittens I bottle-fed and sang lullabies to as they curled up under my chin, to the ferals whom I never touched, but who would sit near me on the front porch and share eye-blinks with me. There are also cats in the neighborhood that have a special place in my heart, and come over to visit me and my gato herd often. All gatos are welcome at my home.
One thing almost all of these cats have in common is my front door post. Most every cat to have entered my life here at my home these last 23 years has stopped to stretch their back and sharpen their claws at that spot on my door frame. The sound of claws on that wood is like hearing a favorite tune. Whenever I walk over my threshold, looking at that spot brings warmth to my heart. It holds deep meaning, almost like a mezuzah, inscribed by creatures who have inhabited my home and my hillside, many of whom now watch over me from beyond. Sometimes, I reach out and run my hand over the roughened wood, and if a splinter pierces my finger, I imagine it is one of my gatos at the Rainbow Bridge, giving me a scratch from heaven.
I love this spot on my door frame. I love every cat who helped inscribe it for me.
What a lovely idea: a mezuzah from cats. I knew you were a kindred spirit, Judy... I have seven dogs now, all of them rescues, all except one foster failures--how hard is it to let them go, eh? Since we moved into this house five years ago (wow--almost to the day today, haha) we've had 13 more. Like your cats, some came to me as puppies (some were even born here), some as adults, but they've all left their mark in one way or another. An "exploded" throw pillow there, a gnawed-off corner on a table or chair there, a chewed blanket... And yes, instead of seeing "damage", all these are little pieces of love to me.
ReplyDeleteThanks for the visit over at Quiet Laughter :)
The four-footed members of our home mean so much, don't they :)
DeleteOh Judy, I know just what you mean. These little things that seem unsightly to some feel so adorable to pet parents. In the previous house we lived in my dog Max would sleep right in front of the kitchen door. Over time, he marked the wall with his scratches as he stretched in his sleep. I took multiple pictures of it when we moved. It was such adorable wall art. :)
ReplyDeleteThe art they leave us is priceless <3
DeleteBeautiful. That is their guestbook. :-)
ReplyDeleteThe View from the Top of the Ladder
Take 25 to Hollister
A gato guestbook! I love that idea :)
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