To Belle, A Good Cat-- Goodbye Little Bean



Belle was an orphan in the storm.  I found her with Crissy and the cat ladies in the parking lot of the Cranberry Walmart. She was a tiny little bean, a striped tiger with green eyes and a little white face.  I went over to say hi to Crissy and was immediately struck with her.  Crissy was holding her, and when she thrust her into my arms, Belle smiled at me and touched my nose with her little paw.  I adopted her on the spot and  Crissy brought her to my house that night.



I decided on calling her Belle.  Her full name, was Crispinia Arabella Wild Thing Bean.



As it turns out, she was an escapee from the circus.  Her mother was a bengal tiger and her daddy was a bombay lion.  They were circus cats who warned little Miss Belle not to stray away from the tents.  The circus had been performing in Kitanning that week.  But, Belle was a curious little bean and wandered off to explore greater Kitanning.  It was there that one of Crissy's cat ladies mis-took her for an orphan, swept her up and brought her home.  Later that week, Crissy brought her to the Walmart to find her a home.  That's where our lives intersected and she picked me.



She was a talking, talkative cat.  She was affectionate and loving.  She liked to be brushed and loved on and I often heard her say, "Mommy" moreso than "meow".  She loved her perch in the window next to my computer.  Her favorite toy was her mousey and her strings and ribbons.  She converted to Catholicism from her pagan upbringing and was devoted to St. Francis.   I could understand catese because of her.  She slept at night on my pillow curled around my head, and I often reached out and held her paw--especially when I was sick and in pain and the narcotics were useless.  She knew when she was needed and was always right there. 



I never owned a cat before Belle.  I was raised in a household of dogs and cats were thought of as distant, aloof and unloving.  This was not my Bella.  I was immediately surprised by her affection, her cuddling and snurfling--her little cat kisses when she touched her forhead to mine. 



When I was growing up, in our family as we did then and still do now--we never left the house without kissing everyone and saying I love you.  My parents both lost spouses at a young age.  They learned the hard lesson--that we know not the hour--that we leave those we love and have no idea what the day will bring good or bad.  So it was not unusual for me to kiss my cat goodbye, stroke her fur and snurfle her with love and affection.  This morning it was because she was so cute, that I stopped to say goodbye and I love you, bean, again.  I had no idea she would be gone when I got home.  As it is, I remember her now, smiling at me as I dashed out the door.



But now she is not.  She is gone.  I miss her little voice tonight, her accounts of how her day went, her little face, her girlish cat paws and her being curled up on my lap as I write

this. 



Tomorrow I will carry her to her final resting place at Peggy's house in the back yard.



There will be another cat, but there will only ever be one Belle, a sweet, talkative, loving little Bean of a cat--I will never forget her or her unconditional cat love--which is, afterall, better than no love at all...



*sigh*

*snurfle*

*many tears*



Love you forever, Little Bean Ba



Mommy