L o b a B l a n c a {dot} c o m

Every witch needs a familiar...

I’m sorry, denizens. I know that I try to keep things relatively light and funny on Flashback Fridays. But I still has a sad. Data’s passing has impacted me far more than I expected it to…although it’s a bit silly on my part to ever have thought that such a thing wouldn’t upset me. Like I said, he was in my life for more than half my existence.

Also, from a thoroughly selfish standpoint (although, really, what other is there in the blog-o-sphere, eh?), I realized the other day that this is the first time I am completely pet-less since I was 7 years old. In that time, I’ve had four hamsters, two dogs, one cat, and a squirrel. Yes, a squirrel. She was awesome. I really need to find and scan those slides.

And while I know that one should never have favorites among their dependents (I’m not going to call them children because…well, I’d rather not envision birthing a four-legged furry), I think the losses of Data and Jodie have hit me the hardest of them all.

I know that there are “dog people” and there are “cat people.” The debate has always somewhat baffled me. It’s like being “Kirk people” or “Picard people.” Both have wonders to offer, lessons to teach, love to give. Plus, we all know Janeway was the best anyway.

Ha. See? Not too sad to resist geek speak.

I loved both pets equally and differently. Of Jodie I once wrote:

You were my serendipity—my whirling dervish of fur and feet, of tongue and tail. You were my laughter, my joy, my inner child personified and amplified. Personal trainer, food taster, alarm clock. You were the fullness in my heart…no, you were my heart. My best friend.

She was a furry bundle of joy, unruly and unrepentant in her rambunctiousness and in her love. I adored and envied her for her openness, for her tolerance, and for her forgiveness. She was my ambassador to a world that I most often simply don’t get. When I was with her, I could see a beauty in most people and things that would usually slip right by me. But not her. She taught me to take the time to enjoy every blade of grass and to not be shy about rolling in the daffodils if the urge overtook me. It was a literal lesson for her, but I think it’s more metaphorical for the rest of us.

If Jodie was my ambassador, Data was my mirror. I understood his aloofness…and I recognized that beneath that slight veneer of standoffishness was a secret need to be around those he loved. He wasn’t a lap cat, but he could always be found where we congregated. Stretched across the back of the love seat. Curled up on the most comfortable couch cushion. Seated on the piano, watching the hallway with his “purry pucker face,” that strange face he’d make whenever he was purring, that looked like a cross between him sucking a lemon drop and preparing to give a smooch to the next person to come into view. He’s kind of making that face in the photo up above. You might have missed it, however, by the distraction of all that hair I was rocking at that point in my life.

When he was little, I used to drape him along my shoulders like a mink stole. Only way to wear fur, really. He’d just rest there, curled around my neck, as I walked around the house. You always had to keep moving whenever holding him. Sometimes, he purred. Sometimes he purred so happily, so forcefully, he would chirp. Hearing that in my ear was always worth the free ride on my shoulders.

However, soon he was up to his fighting weight. Fourteen pounds at his biggest. He was a little bruiser of a pugilist, punching with soft kitty paws at any who irritated him. Usually that was me. Usually he didn’t scratch. I still have phantom scars on my hands from those times that didn’t fit into “usually.”

Strangely, however, his meow never matched his size. His was the mew trapped in time, sounding the same from his kittenhood right through to the end. We always joked that perhaps we should have waited a bit longer before having him neutered. I loved that little mew though.

I loved him. I loved how he would hide under the covers in the winter and lounge in the windowsills in the summer. I loved how he’d ambush my cow slippers as I shuffled out of my room to get my morning coffee. Or how, for the better part of a year, he loved sleeping in the bathroom sink…followed by the rest of the year in which he loved sleeping on top of the toilet lid. He also loved sleeping on my computer keyboard. Friends learned not to be concerned by gibberish IMs. It just meant I’d stepped away from the computer long enough for the Doodle Cat to send one of his errant transmissions.

I love that he was known as Hinja-Doodle, for the same reason that Jodie was known as Hooga Dooey…remnants of a strange language that only those within my family still speak. All our animals end up not only with multiple nicknames, but usually also with accompanying voices. Yes, Data had a voice. So did Jodie. Yes, I might share them with you…but only if you ask nicely.

As I said the last time I came to the lair, there were so many wonderful things about Data…too many to summarize in one blog post. Or many. I’ve been thinking about all the wonderful moments I had with him, and subsequently all the wonderful moments I’ve had with all my pets. And, true, as much as it sucks when they finally leave our lives, what they leave behind so far outweighs the loss in the end that I wouldn’t trade any second of the joy that they brought to my life or left in my heart.

I guess that’s really all I have to say on the matter for now. Oh, one more thing: If you’ve got a pet or two of your own, give them a hug from Loba (unless it’s a fish…then a few extra food flakes will suffice).