FRIDAY THE CAT

My mother emailed me the other night and asked "Why don't you write about Friday?"

For my 16th birthday, my boyfriend gave me an adult cat instead of a kitten. He gave him to me on a Friday, so hence the name. Not very original, but it seemed cool at the time.

I think that if one of my kids' friends gave them a cat out of the blue I would have shot them, but my mother just seemed to take it in stride. Just like everything else.

Well, the boyfriend was gone after a short time, probably because my father kept referring to him as the Long Haired Weirdo whenever the poor guy came calling.

But Friday lived on. And on. He must have had another name, because he was two years old when I got him. But he seemed to adapt.

He had to be an outside cat because I was allergic to the cat hair and dander, but every now and then I would sit outside on the tree swing and just hold him and pet him. That seemed to be enough for him.

If I took too long between visits, he would jump way up on the window ledge of the kitchen window and call for me. The ledge was narrow, so every now and then you would see this orange mass of fur smash up against the window pane, then suddenly right itself.

After awhile he would fall asleep and fall off. Then smash, and you would see the silly thing again.

Thud, to the ground and smash to the window. He could do this for hours.

"God in Heaven, Patsy!" Bingo Mary would scream, "Will you put that cat out of its misery and take it for a ride?" My mother was known for accidentally running over animals.

This cat definitely had nine lives. He was hit by a car, run over by bicycles, unknowingly locked in the garage for two days, ate bug poison, and God knows what else the silly thing did to itself.

He finally died when I was 24 and they buried him in the backyard next to Pepe, the "Holy Rover." I had since long moved away, had a child and was working for an attorney when I got the news.

"Fridays dead" my mother said, a little crack in her normally strong voice.

"Daddy buried him. Say a little prayer. Even Bingo Mary was teary."

I'll always associate cats with expressions of love. My kids always had cats, I just doubled up on my allergy shots. There's something about the soft ball of fur that is soothing to the psyche and calming to the soul.

When I think back to holding him, it reminds me of a simpler time in my life, when all there was to worry about was getting my homework done. Vietnam had not yet touched me, I was happy going to drama club and practicing for the newest play.

I don't know if 16 year olds today have the same luxuries, the same carefree thoughts.

Sometimes it takes someone else to remind you of how blessed you are.

Thanks Mom.

Here's to you, Friday. Say hey to the gang for me.