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Chapter 1. "Kitty Kelly" -- The Nurse
I am not sure where it all started. But, from the time I was a young child I felt something special; perhaps a kind of kinship for the lost, abandoned and rejected of our world. Perhaps its because I was an "only" child from a broken home who spent a great deal of time alone. Perhaps it was the nurturing, wise and caring example of my grandmother. Or perhaps it was any number or combination of things, which even today, Psychologists, Philosophers, Sociologists or Theologians don't fully understand. The early rock songs I listened to as a kid were my close ally; their searching, oft plaintive lyrics, a reflection of my own unknown soul. The animals I saw in my daily life, whether on streets or in home were, however, mirror to my heart.
I "rescued" my first cat at the age of eight. I came home from school one day to find a long, skinny tabby cat forlornly sitting on the stairwell in our apartment building. A knock on neighbor's doors revealed that none of them admitted owning the cat.
I carried the cat in my arms like a new mother carries her baby. I brought her into our apartment with the joyous, hopeful thought that we would keep her!
I was in for an unhappy surprise.
My grandmother was sympathetic to the plight of the cat, but my mother was deathly afraid of cats and let out an audible gasp when first she saw the scrawny feline. "Ahh!!, " she shrieked. " No way are we keeping that animal here!"
I cried and begged, but my mom would not relent. Every time the cat walked across the floor, my mom cowered in fear, as if a lion stalked through the apartment ready to attack her. I appealed to my grandmother for help and understanding.
"Nanny" (as I called her), was a very kind, empathetic woman whose early years growing up on a farm in Ireland endowed her with a good deal of knowledge, liking and comfort with animals. "What's the matter with you?" she admonished my mother. "Its only a cat! She's not going to kill you!" Nanny warmed up milk for the hungry kitty and gave her some meaty leftovers. My mom retreated to the front end of the apartment away from the "frightening" animal stranger.
New York City in the fifties was not accustomed to the keeping of cats as pets. Most people, including us had a dog. Cats were, for the most part, shadowy, mysterious figures that crept through alleys or were kept by some local grocers as "mousers" for rodent problems. Nevertheless, my grandmother prepared a "litter box" for the cat from an old steel roasting pan and some shredded newspaper. We bought "kitty tuna" at the supermarket.
"Ronnie, " my grandmother's dog was 16-years-old at the time the stray kitty came in. Ronnie was suffering from all kinds of geriatric problems, including near-blindness, deafness, arthritis and numerous benign tumors. Nanny knew that Ronnie's days on earth were dwindling to an uncomfortable few. Still, Nanny hung on to her beloved old dog as a tree in winter holds on to the last struggling leaf of summer.
Ronnie slept most of the time and at first, took little notice of the new cat. However, the cat (whom my Grandmother named, "Kitty Kelly"), noticed and immediately warmed up to the dog. Seeming to sense that the dog was unwell, Kitty Kelly sauntered up and started to lick and gently groom Ronnie. She settled down on the soft comforter next to the dog as if to comfort Ronnie. I think if Kitty Kelly could have held Ronnie's paws, she would have.
It was "nurse" Kitty Kelly's nurturing ways with our ailing family dog, as well as Ronnie's response to her, that finally won my mom over. As afraid and rejecting of the "mangy cat" as mom was, she did not possess the callousness to put Kitty Kelly on the street or bring her to the ASPCA which then handled "animal control" in New York City. My mom knew that the skinny feline would be killed there. She did not wish that guilt on her conscience. However, it was Kitty Kelly's loving ways with Ronnie which eventually and truly thawed my mother's heart. Yes, we would keep her! How could we "get rid of" our dog's personal nurse?
Kitty Kelly was my "baby." Unlike our fragile dog, I could pick Kitty Kelly up, hold her, talk to her, play with her and cuddle with her. She slept with me at night. Kitty Kelly was what I looked forward to each day when coming home from what was mostly to me, miserable days in school. She was the highlight and love of my life. Kitty Kelly became the foundation and inspiration for my lifelong love of cats.
Because so little was understood about cats as pets during the 50's, my family and I had to "wing it" in terms of responsible care and we didn't always do well by today's standards. We didn't know the importance of vet care, shots, window screens and spay/neuter. Fortunately, for us, Kitty Kelly was a very healthy cat.
Each morning Nanny warmed up milk and gave it to Kitty Kelly in the cat's favorite saucer. Like the "lady" she was, Kitty Kelly daintily dipped her paw in the milk and licked it off. After her morning treat, Kitty Kelly went for a walk each day on the fire escape of our building. She would sometimes disappear for hours.
It was after one of these excursions some years later that Kitty Kelly presented us one evening with three beautiful, tiny kittens. The experience of watching my beautiful cat give birth and raise her babies was a personal thrill for me. Of course I wanted to keep all the kittens, but the two boys were eventually given to one of our neighbors, while we kept Kitty Kelly's daughter whom we named "Callie."
Following feline motherhood, Kitty Kelly was not allowed to roam the fire escape and the yards while she was in heat. That did not however, prevent her from other "adventures" when not in season.
One warm Spring afternoon, Kitty Kelly returned from her outdoor travels with a piping hot fried chicken breast in her mouth. My Grandmother recoiled in horror. "Oh my!", she exclaimed. "She must have stolen it from one of the neighbors!"
A few days later we learned that Kitty Kelly had snuck into the window of our next door neighbor and grabbed the chicken while the woman was in another room waiting for her dinner to cool. When she returned to the kitchen what she thought was the main course had strangely disappeared. "I thought I lost my mind!," she explained to my Grandmother good-naturedly. Fortunately, what she "lost" was only a piece of chicken.
Our next door neighbor was not the only one almost "driven crazy" by Kitty Kelly. Other neighbors experienced her pranks as well.
There was a brief period when Kitty Kelly took late night evening strolls on the fire escape. We couldn't figure out what the fascination was, but once again, Kitty Kelly would disappear for hours.
Some weeks later we discovered that our upstairs neighbors thought they too, "were losing their minds." Their piano would mysteriously start playing in the middle of the night! Each time they rose from their beds to investigate the source of the playing, there was nothing to be found. Were they crazy? Were they imagining or dreaming things? Nope. Kitty Kelly simply fancied herself a concert pianist!
Approximately, a year old when I found her that day on the dark stairwell, we had Kitty Kelly for 16 sweet years. But, despite all the games, "tricks," apologies to neighbors, fun and love I shared with her over the years, it was most of all, the loving care Kitty Kelly offered to our dying dog that will always stand out in my memory.
We lost Ronnie about a year after acquiring Kitty Kelly who, while Ronnie was alive, rarely left her side. Ronnie's final year was filled with the tender licks and grooming that only a nurturing and understanding cat can give. Kitty Kelly was the adventurer, the trickster, the player, the mommy and finally, the feline senior citizen. But, most of all and forever in our hearts, she was the "nurse."