A Tribute to Variables: Lovey

There are so many small things around us that make up the very definition of our lives. Things you walk by every day – the things you touch, the things you see, the things that are always there. Our lives as we see them are supported up on the stilts of a million variables. Have you ever considered these things? Things like the view from your kitchen window; the place you park your car; the color of your cell-phone; the creak that one step makes as you walk upstairs; the type of door-knob on the bathroom door. These small things are really insignificant on the grand scheme of life, I know that. But combined, they make up your life. No one else has the unique combination of variables as you do. These variables change, sometimes changing every single day, going unnoticed, unappreciated, unacknowledged.

I love the simple things in life. And when something changes around me, it makes me sad. Maybe because it’s my inclination towards the sentimental and melancholy, I don’t know, but when something changes, it’s sad to know that you can never go back to what was. Every day takes us further on, redefining and reshaping your life.

Last night, one of my variables changed. The world did not come to a screeching halt, in fact, the impact of the change will hardly be noticed even by me before too long. But the fact that little Lovey, our sweet cat of 13 years, will no longer be quietly existing in the backgrounds of our lives is a sad realization to me. I was about 11 when Lovey, an undersized, average looking little girl kitten, was born in our garage at our old house; I probably watched her birth. In all her life, this is one cat who never demanded attention, never ignored you, never lived up to the stereotype that cats are proud and aloof. Because she wasn’t. She loved us as her family and in those times when she would creep up quietly next to you on the porch swing, she didn’t demand your attention, but simply nuzzled close and comforting. But if you should decide to pet her, she would shower all the love in her heart onto you, with purring, caressing, and nuzzling of her little nose close to you. That’s why she was named Lovey. It’s not true that animals, especially cats, don’t have feelings or affections, because little undersized Lovey had a heartfull.

I went out last night to say goodbye to her, as she was breathing her last painful breathes. And yes, I cried. I cried as she painfully but deliberately moved her head towards the sound of my voice, one last symbol of her affectionate little heart. I cried after Mom told me before I went to bed that she gone.

Lovey was never my favorite cat. But she was always there. Karis and Stuart’s entire lives have been with Lovey in the background, and all my growing up years, even in the past years of adulthood, Lovey’s been a constant.

I am so thankful for every single little tiny seemingly-insignificant variable in my life. I’ll miss that sweet little cat.