[Vision2020] A sad message

keely emerinemix kjajmix1 at msn.com
Sun Mar 19 14:42:24 PST 2006


Carl, I'm so sorry about Squeak.  He was one fortunate little guy to have 
lived with you for so long, and I know you cared about him a lot.  I hope in 
time good memories replace grief over the loss of such a precious friend.

keely


From: "Tom Hansen" <thansen at moscow.com>
To: "'Joan Opyr'" <joanopyr at moscow.com>,        "'Vision2020 Moscow'" 
<vision2020 at moscow.com>
CC: idahotom at hotmail.com
Subject: RE: [Vision2020] A sad message
Date: Sun, 19 Mar 2006 13:38:47 -0800

Carl -

Rodna and I pass on our deepest condolences.  In the course of our marriage
we have had to put to sleep two cats, Poindexter (12 years) and Bandit (15
years).  We have several photographs of both of them and use them as
wallpaper for our computer to remind us of them.

I feel that, maybe, Rod McKuen said it best in his poem "A Cat Named Sloopy"
which he had written in memory of his cat Pashosh:

--------------------------------------------------------------------

"A Cat Named Sloopy"
By Rod McKuen

For a while
the only earth that Sloopy knew
was in her sandbox.
Two rooms on Fifty-fifth Street
were her domain.
Every night she'd sit in the window
among the avocado plants
waiting for me to come home
(my arms full of canned liver and love).
We'd talk into the night then
contented
but missing something,
She the earth she never knew
me the hills I ran
while growing bent.

Sloopy should have been a cowboy's cat
with prairies to run
not linoleum
and real-live catnip mice.
No one to depend on but herself.


I never told her
but in my mind
I was a midnight cowboy even then.
Riding my imaginary horse
down Forty-second Street,
going off with strangers
to live an hour-long cowboy's life,
but always coming home to Sloopy,
who loved me best.


A dozen summers
we lived against the world.
An island on an island.
She'd comfort me with purring
I'd fatten her with smiles.
We grew rich on trust
needing not the beach or butterflies
I had a friend named Ben
Who painted buildings like Roualt men.
He went away.
My laughter tired Lillian
after a time
she found a man who only smiled.
Only Sloopy stay and stayed.

Winter.
Nineteen fifty-nine.
Old men walk their dogs.
Some are walked so often
that their feet leave
little pink tracks
in the soft gray snow.

Women fur on fur
elegant and easy
only slightly pure
hailing cabs to take them
round the block and back.
Who is not a love seeker
when December comes?
even children pray to Santa Claus.
I had my own love safe at home
and yet I stayed out all one night
the next day too.

They must have thought me crazy
screaming
Sloopy
Sloopy
as the snow came falling
down around me.

I was a madman
to have stayed away
one minute more
than the appointed hour.
I'd like to think a golden cowboy
snatched her from the window sill,
and safely saddlebagged
she rode to Arizona.
She's stalking lizards
in the cactus now perhaps
bitter but free.

I'm bitter too
and not a free man any more.

Once was a time,
in New York's jungle in a tree,
before I went into the world
in search of other kinds of love
nobody owned me but a cat named Sloopy.

Looking back
perhaps she's been
the only human thing
that ever gave back love to me.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Again, our concolences, Carl.

Your friends,

Tom and Rodna Hansen
Moscow, Idaho


***********************************
Work like you don't need the money.
Love like you've never been hurt.
Dance like nobody's watching.

- Author Unknown
***********************************




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