our little family: remembering Poppy

We were first introduced to Poppy when she leaped on me from a low tree branch at the breeder's. She came home with us that night, mewing all the way from her box on Cheri's lap.

Abyssinian cats look like little cougars with brown ticked fur. Poppy was as fierce and playful as a midget cougar, bounding sideways to pounce, then hopping away in all directions at once, trilling all the while in her sweet musical voice.

Poppy had lots to say. Her voice was expressive, tonal, soft. She spoke to let us know she was down near our feet, tracking our movements. She spoke to tell us she was right there on the stairs, poking her head through the rails, where we could pet her at eye level while we stood on the other side. She spoke when locked out of a room we were in. Her voice was so sweet that we didn't mind, even if it was late (or early).

Poppy was a reliable early riser, coming in to join me for coffee in the early mornings before work. She'd stay at the table to sit on Cheri's lap while she read the paper. Woe to any doughnuts that wandered within Poppy's grasp! She'd attack all pastry actually, gobbling down muffins with a sort of smacking gusto that signified favored prey. Maybe this had something to do with her catnip habit.

When Poppy joined us, we were three: Cheri and Michael (humans) plus Jean-Luc (Burmese cat). Jean-Luc was a bit older and Poppy was beyond spunky with him. A couple of good swats from JL early might have made for a different social dynamic, but he chose to be gentle. After some time they did learn to cuddle and nap together.

Miles grew up with Poppy. She was patient and playful with him. He built her little forts. She slept on his bed. She shared her cat food. He petted and talked with her and she talked and purred back.

And oh, what a motor little Poppy had. She was a tiny cat, kitten sized all her life, but when she purred her voice resonated. She loved to climb on your chest when you'd slouch on a couch to read. She'd push your book away and sit nose-to-nose with you, purring loudly, tickling your face with her whiskers.

In her later years, Poppy made her peace with Pal, our Sprinkle Spaniel, although she never got as cuddly with him as he would have liked. She continued to prowl for unguarded doughnuts, even though she was supposed to eat special food with medicine sprinkled on it. The kitchen counter became too high to jump onto. The stairs were taken slowly. She needed her sleep.

And then, all too soon, it was time for Poppy to go. It happened very fast, leaving us all stunned and saddened, still looking for her underfoot as we walked around the house, not quite believing she is gone. A hoodie hung on a chair at the far end of the kitchen table looks like Poppy out of the corner of my eye. A shadow on the floor looks like Poppy. Pal is sad and sticks close. It seems very quiet here now. Poppy was with us for 18 people-years. Remembering, fondly, the one-and-only Pop-Tart, Popette, Poppiletti... Poppy.