We lived in a nice neighborhood in Delmar, New York. Mostly attorneys and doctors lived there. And there was a farm around the corner, where you could get fresh corn during the harvest time. Next door to that farm was a dilapidated place, also a farm, but run-down. Gypsies lived there. The neglected animals used to run around the neighborhood. Once, we had a rooster on the fence. And a cow ran through the yard. Where we lived, there were no metal chain links or tall wooden fences, but only small wooden picket fences, sometimes. Sometimes, there were no fences at all, but only a row of flowers or a garden. (Later, the farm burned down and a lot of the animals died. The owner was accused of insurance fraud). That day that Mimi Sophie and I went for our first walk, I noticed that she was going into every garage and looking around. So that night, I made her a place to have her babies. It was an empty box, which I filled with a bed pillow, and a couple of warm sweatshirts.
Another lady in the house who also rented a room was a kind, warm person who loved animals and had a farm of her own in the Catskills. She let me borrow her parking space inside the garage, so that Sophie would not be cold during the night. The next day, I came out and saw that Sophie had had two kittens. Quite a feat. A white one with black spots, along with a little black one. I drove to school, with Sophie nursing her little ones in the back. Once I arrived, I parked next to some trees, in a peaceful place so that Sophie would feel safe. Leaving the window halfway down so that Sophie could get in and out, I went to my classes. At the end of the day, I came back. Sophie was climbing back into the window, after a hunting tour. She was a regular mouser and used to catch a field mouse every day in New York. After the kittens were around 7 weeks old, they went to my friend's house to stay for a while. (The little one's needed space to run). Eventually, they were returned to me, as my friend did not have the energy to watch them. Luckily, my next door neighbor there took in Sophie and her baby that was left, until summer (my friend had kept the other kitten). She let Sophie live in her garage, with the door cracked, so that Sophie could go in and out. It was a nice system. Eventually, she and her family kept the little kitten, who they named Polly. She became an important part of their household, along with another kitten named Inky.
One day, I was studying in my room, on the second floor and I heard some meowing. Loud meowing. I went from my room to the hallway and looked to the left and saw that Sophie was hanging by her paws on the second floor screen of the bathroom. There was nothing below but concrete. It was a frame house, as many houses are in the cold climates, so there was not much for her to hold on to on the way up. What a climber! Not long after, I taught Sophie how to find my room from the outside. She would climb up the small tree to the roof landing and then, into my open window. This worked well until the land lady noticed that my window was cracked. It was a terror that morning. I heard her thump on the door, demanding to be let in. Sophie was there on my bed, so I quickly put her out and closed the window. The land lady entered and stormed at me about Sophie. I confessed, but could not help but be amused by her anger. The other lady who lived there always brought her dog to stay over when the land lady went to New York City to stay, where her mother lived, so we had our own comments between ourselves about the other woman and how cold she was.
That summer, I took Sophie back to Texas with me. She'd gotten pregnant while living at my friend's house. It was not meant to happen, but it did. The day of birth was a joyous time for Sophie. I have never seen her so happy. She dragged us over to watch her, as she had the babies. One of them was a tiger and the other one was black with white spots. They were so tiny. Sophie was so proud. I left for Paris, where I had classes for the summer. When I returned, I found that the tiger kitten could not walk, but that was okay, as if he'd been able to walk, I would have had to give him away. His name was Benji. Short for Benjamin. I was not sad. He was quite healthy. He only fell over a bit. Lost his balance. And, this way, at least, I had an excuse to keep him. We found a home for the other kitten with a neighbor.
In the fall, we left for New York, with cats in tow. Being there was a wonderland of mice for Sophie. We lived at the top of a hill that was a mile-high straight up that went round and round until we reached the top, in a small house surrounded by fields and meadows. One day, I was out walking and found a special place. A perfectly round clearing of grass surrounded by trees. Blue sky above, it was exactly like the meadow you would read about at the end of House at Pooh Corner, where Christopher Robin says goodbye to Pooh and goes off into the sunset. Speaking of which, I must go, too. Sophie has already gone into the clouds. She is still here, though, and so is Pooh, at least in our hearts. As everyone knows, no one really goes, even though we cannot see them.
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