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Squid Velackson, March 23 2008 - June 23 2008
On a cool March day croc-shod Bianca sprints through the front door into the house, all big hair and breathless, "Gwandma, there's a little dead dog in the fwont yawd!!"
A crowd of highly diverse ages, all related, move outside in morbid suspense to confirm the discovery. Indeed an hour-old baby kitten (close enough, Bianca) lies motionless on the ground near the broken crawlspace window mom had crawled out of transporting her brood one by one to better digs.
This one got dropped.
"Is he dead?" "I think so honey, we'll bring him inside just in case."
An unplanned kitty morgue takes form in the kitchen, basket for a coffin, Linda and Velasquez grandkids attending. No sign of life.
The front door opens as master of all animals Josette returns from her walk with friend Lili -- immediately they confidently set to work. Warm towels. Hot water bottle. Kitty body massage, teenage fingers imitating mommy cat's tongue.
Then... movement. Breathing. Soundless pantomimed mewing motions. Life!
Montage, 6 weeks. Assembly of kitty ICU bed complete with hot water bottles, towels and lamp. Trip to Petsmart to invest in kitten nursing bottles and formula. Nights of incessant mewing, waking every two hours to administer formula. Good lesson for teenage girls (USE PROTECTION!!). Linda "pooping" the kitty each morning and evening (kitties can't poop on their own, the versatile tongue of mommy cat massages the shit right out of 'em).
Kitty walks, then walks faster. Eyes are round orbs of white ice, challenging the world, "I AM HERE!!". Everyday objects pose trials of fight/flight conflict. Kitty runs, then sprints, and finally gallops across the house, 100% predator.
Kitty has a name: Squid after a bird that had been killed by cats (courtesy of Lili). Velackson, a hybrid name of a hybrid family of Jackson (Joe, Linda, Jimmy, Josette) and Velasquez (Wesley, Tony, Bianca).
Squid is indomitable. Audacious. Proud. Clumsy. Supremely confident. Gracefully clumsy. Incredibly spontaneous. And unbelievably curious.
Squid discovers his soul mate. 40 times his size, 20 times his age, golden fur, massive head the size of Squid's whole body. Squid and Max the 7-year-old golden retriever become friends for life. The game is cat and mouse. The cat is a dog and the mouse has five sharp points that strike from dark recesses.
Humans become prey. Surprise attacks launched with cold calculation. Colorful patterns of cat scratch adorn feet.
Predator is also lover. Grandpa Joe who rises before the sun makes for a good early morning cuddle. Squid climbs up Mount Joe and wraps his lean body around Joe's neck, purring in his ear.
But Squid is curious.
Warm comfy places hold the most appeal, and on Monday an open clothes dryer provides an inviting place. Then towels are thrown in, the door closes and the world turns to ruin.
Tears. How did we get so attached in such a short time?
Because he is special. He shouldn't have lived. He shouldn't have died.
Three months. Would that we could all live a tenth as much as he did in the time we have.
Rest in peace Squiddy.
Photos by Josette Jackson and Joe Jackson
©2003, Joe Jackson. All rights reserved.