soft…

This is a story about soft…

The softest thing I know of at this moment is the black fur of my faithful companion, Mishy. Mishy is a six-year-old little black boy cat…he is the smartest cat I’ve ever known…except for ‘eggs’…and the two of them got along very well…before ‘eggs’ disappeared one autumn day. 😦

Mishy was about 8 weeks old when my daughter snuck him home and I found them together in her bedroom, along with little brother…I knew immediately that something was up. And then, I saw him….What the HELL? AAwwww…..look at him… , and it was over.

My daughter went away to school and I had Mishy to myself. He bonded with me like he thought I was his mama. I could hold his little, black, soft body in both my outstretched hands and he sometimes, stretched out behind my back, next to the couch back, in a long, thin, tube of softly purring fur.

As a kitten, he fetched! He was crazy to fetch…small, metal, coiled springs that I bought at Home Depot. They would disappear and I’d have to buy more…one day, I was cleaning in the living room and when I picked up the corner of the oriental rug to vacuum the hard wood, I found his treasure trove! There were about 15 springs all gathered up in one bunch…crazy cat! It was almost as though he were a dog, burying his bones…

Mishy also would growl when strangers came to the door…and still does. He has been the best little watch-cat! He even hears a noise before the two dogs. And, he sleeps with me every night. The only exception is when someone accidentally leaves him out on the veranda upstairs. Then, he’s grateful he even got to go outside at all! It’s the only outside place he’s allowed…

On New Year’s Eve of 2008, I had four of the strangest dreams and I wrote them all down in the morning. This was one of them:

~ I had a dream about my black cat, Mishy, who loves me very much. I have been gone from Mishy long enough for him to think I’m not coming back. I come home and ask my husband where Mishy is…He says “down in the field” and he takes me there. It is like a farmyard with a big, open fence. A cat could easily get through  the fence, and yet, he is there. My husband picks him up and brings him to me. Mishy is crying, wet tears are running down his face.

I love him and I tell him that I’m home. ~

Big Bear’s fur is soft too. Big Bear has so very many, many names: Big Bear, Bear, Ginger Bear, Ginger, Gingy, Gingivitis, girl…she is becoming the sweetest dog, and she is a Belgium Malinois. She is smart and loyal and obedient and loving. When she was a puppy, her reddish soft fur resembled that of the softest blanket. It was just like the Ralph Lauren blanket I have on me right now, nearly one of the softest things I have ever felt. After her shower, her fur is soft again, like it was when she was a puppy, and the hair around her ears looks all crimped, like she just came back from the salon! She is 16  months old now…:)

When my son was very small, very, very small, I would find something incredibly soft, like a warm blanket from the dryer, of one of his favorite stuffed toys (he had two, but his favorite was ‘Mister Bear’ – a highly unique and inventive name!) and I would rub it on his check and say “soft…soft…soft…” To this day, he is incredibly picky about shirts, sheets, blankets, you name it…it HAS to be soft. Just like him.

In college, I had a good friend by the name of Danny Remole. Danny had a girlfriend and he was faithful, so we were just that, very good friends. One night, he took me out on the back of his motorcycle for a long, long ride. I held on to his waist, put my head down on his back and braced myself…I knew he wouldnt hold back.

The night was cold and dark, the kind of night with big, bright stars in the sky and a clear, crisp moon, and we stopped to take a short break. When Danny looked at me, he had the biggest, nearly black, soft eyes. His eyes were always warm and nearly dripped big pools of brown chocolate, they were so soft…

He and I were only friends, we never crossed any other boundary, but we just seemed to care for one another.

Soon after, something Danny did or said, REALLY annoyed me and I shot back an angry, sarcastic, deeply cutting retort…and right before my very eyes, Danny’s own, those big, dark, chocolatey eyes, turned to stone. I mean, cold, black, frozen, stone eyes…there was no other way he was going to look at me.

I saw the change and it frightened me…that I could be responsible for instantly solidifying the chocolate into the blackest of granites…

Danny was a basketball player on our college team and the next night, we had a game. Before the game, I looked for him everywhere, I was frantic…I had to get to Danny. I would have to wait until after the game, and so, when we won, and everyone ran on the court to congratulate the team, I ran out too, and right up to Danny.

“Danny, I am SOOOO sorry for what I said (I was nearly in tears). That was so rude and mean of me and I can’t stand the way you’re looking at me now…(a few crocodile tears were now finding their way down my shirt). ”

“Danny, I really mean it and I will never say anything like that to you again! Danny, I’m sorry…tear, tear, tear…”

He was a lot taller than I was, probably 6 ft. 3 in. or so. And he leaned his head down toward me and I saw his eyes melt, right before my very eyes…they went from cold, black steel to warm, cocoa brown, soft, soft eyes…Danny’s eyes were the softest eyes I’ve ever seen. As I think back to that look, I can almost feel myself elevating, it was such a high…