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For Dominic - Earliest Memories
Oct. 31st, 2012 05:01 pmMy earliest memory was trying to visit my neighbors when we lived in a housing complex in Pullman, WA. I remember toddling over and trying to open their door, but my hands just couldn't seem to grasp the knob and before I could successfully enter their home, your Uncle Tony picked me up and carried me away despite my very loud protests. I'm not sure why I wanted to visit those neighbors so much. They had a little boy who pretended to share, but always ended up pushing me out of the way so he got everything and I got nothing. I didn't like that boy.
When I was two, my family moved to a farm outside the tiny town of Genesee, Idaho. All around the house were acres and acres of wheat fields. One of my favorite games when I was little was to get lost in those fields with a little boy from over the hill and when we were good and lost, we would have to find our way out. Finding our way out was the fun part and I credit my great sense of direction with this little game. The only time we got lost was when a dense fog moved in while we were in the field. By the time we found a road, we didn't know which direction to go.
Like many farms, this one had a lot of feral cats. There was one cat that was constantly having kittens. We called her the Mother Cat. While the Mother Cat was completely feral, the kittens were tame and when they were old enough, we would play with them. Sadly, the chemicals used on the farm had a nasty effect on the babies and they usually died before they were six months old. Of all the litters the Mother Cat had, only one kitten survived: a buff and tan tabby we called Whiskers. He became my first pet.
When we moved to Clarkston, Whiskers came with us. When I would explore the overgrown lot across the street from our house, Whiskers always walked ahead of me, poking into the holes and voids I would always climb into. I liked to think he was checking them out for me to keep me safe.
I still don't know how he died. We found him underneath our neighbor's boat one afternoon. I suspect the father of the family that owned that boat killed him. It was the death of Whiskers that led me to getting Sabastion.
I had Sabby for 17 years. He used to lick your head when you were a few months old. I've never seen a more interesting cat than him. I'll tell you more about him later.
I'm supposed to talk about my favorite toy now, but I didn't really have one. What I did have, was a favorite blanket. Grams made me an enormous quilt before I was born. The woman who helped Grams quilt the blanket mentioned it was too big for a baby blanket and Grams (over 40 weeks pregnant and irritated at me for being so late!) griped, "She'll take it to college!" She was right. I still have that blanket, although it's now too fragile to keep on my bed. I only pull it out when I'm sick because I still find the feel of it between my fingers comforting. Grandpa wants me to cut out a square of it and hang it on the wall, but I can't bring myself to do that. You can do that when I'm gone if you like and if not, it doesn't matter to me what you do with it.
When I was two, my family moved to a farm outside the tiny town of Genesee, Idaho. All around the house were acres and acres of wheat fields. One of my favorite games when I was little was to get lost in those fields with a little boy from over the hill and when we were good and lost, we would have to find our way out. Finding our way out was the fun part and I credit my great sense of direction with this little game. The only time we got lost was when a dense fog moved in while we were in the field. By the time we found a road, we didn't know which direction to go.
Like many farms, this one had a lot of feral cats. There was one cat that was constantly having kittens. We called her the Mother Cat. While the Mother Cat was completely feral, the kittens were tame and when they were old enough, we would play with them. Sadly, the chemicals used on the farm had a nasty effect on the babies and they usually died before they were six months old. Of all the litters the Mother Cat had, only one kitten survived: a buff and tan tabby we called Whiskers. He became my first pet.
When we moved to Clarkston, Whiskers came with us. When I would explore the overgrown lot across the street from our house, Whiskers always walked ahead of me, poking into the holes and voids I would always climb into. I liked to think he was checking them out for me to keep me safe.
I still don't know how he died. We found him underneath our neighbor's boat one afternoon. I suspect the father of the family that owned that boat killed him. It was the death of Whiskers that led me to getting Sabastion.
I had Sabby for 17 years. He used to lick your head when you were a few months old. I've never seen a more interesting cat than him. I'll tell you more about him later.
I'm supposed to talk about my favorite toy now, but I didn't really have one. What I did have, was a favorite blanket. Grams made me an enormous quilt before I was born. The woman who helped Grams quilt the blanket mentioned it was too big for a baby blanket and Grams (over 40 weeks pregnant and irritated at me for being so late!) griped, "She'll take it to college!" She was right. I still have that blanket, although it's now too fragile to keep on my bed. I only pull it out when I'm sick because I still find the feel of it between my fingers comforting. Grandpa wants me to cut out a square of it and hang it on the wall, but I can't bring myself to do that. You can do that when I'm gone if you like and if not, it doesn't matter to me what you do with it.