When I Gained the Mark

It's not a visible scar.  I haven't been playing with pens and magic markers that have left the telltale signs of their use.  Look as hard as you like, but you won't find the physical evidence.  Most likely, you will feel it.

Most people who have known me in the past 9 years also know of Morningstar.  He came into my life around the same time my husband did.  Morningstar came into his life only a few months before that.

For a few months, a large tom cat was wandering around the fields surrounding Morningstar Markets, just outside of York, Pennsylvania.  Some of the outside vendors would often offer him food or leave a bowl out for him.  My husband, Jon enjoyed visiting the market on weekends to get fresh cheese and meats and check out the deals in the outdoor flea market.  He would usually catch a glimpse of the elusive tom lurking in the meadow.

As the seasons started to change from summer to fall, a couple of ladies who were frequently visited by the cat grew concerned about what might happen when the weather got cooler.  Jon, who can strike up a conversation with anyone, talked with these women on several occasions.  They knew he already had cats at home and asked him if he'd be interested in adopting it.  They told him how the cat had been thrown out of a passing car and was surviving on field mice and the offerings of the vendors.  He often came by their booth for food and had become friendly with them.  Once the weather changed, the outside vendors would disappear and they didn't want the cat to suffer.  Neither of the women could take him home and hoped Jon would be able to give him a place to live.  Jon's love of animals and concern for the suffering won out and he went home with a new family member in addition to his purchases.

Christened with a new name taken from the market he'd left behind, Morningstar started to explore his new home.  He had two new sisters, Zippity-Doo-Dah and Cricket, to get used to, a new landscape to explore and a newly steady food source.  Now left to his own devices without having to fight for survival, his true skittish self came out.  Morningstar was distrustful, often hiding and getting food when Jon wasn't around.  He took a while to get used to his new environment.

This went on for the following weeks until I entered the picture.  I met Jon in the fall.  Our first date was in November 2005 and I got to see Jon's house around Thanksgiving.  There had been an incident shortly before, resulting in his roommate getting kicked out.  The guy had pushed over the Christmas tree in his anger and shattered several ornaments.  I remember how concerned Jon was for the animals wandering around the house and stepping on the broken ornaments.

While all three cats took a little while to warm up to me, Zippy and Cricket were definitely the more social of the three.  Cricket loved anyone that walked through the door, though was not always social with other animals.  In typical cat fashion, Zippy would come to me on her own terms, ask for loving and move on to the next important thing in her kitty life.

Currently 18 years old, Zippy is Jon's longest four-legged relationship.  She has always been and will remain the queen of her domain.  Morningstar and all subsequent pets were and are strongly aware of this.  She is Jon's baby.

Cricket, though well-loved, later moved back in with her first family.  She had been staying with us as they were in an apartment that had a pet limit.

It wasn't until I moved in, shortly after New Year's, that Morningstar really started to come out of his shell.  It started with him coming out of hiding for an investigative sniff.  Once he got used to the fact that I wasn't going anywhere, he'd let me start touching him - not a full petting session, but a quick pat before he ran off again.  He was really a very coy suitor.

After a while, Morningstar started to curl up near me, let me pet him and finally allow me to pick him up and hold him.  I knew I had finally won when he hopped up on my recliner with me and settled in for a nap on my belly.

From that moment on, I had a large cat-shaped shadow.  As soon as I would enter the house, he would be twining through my legs.  When I sat on the couch, there would be a pat of cat butter melting in my lap.  Jon was amazed at the change in Morningstar - from always stand-offish to clingy in a matter of weeks.

By the time we moved to Washington, DC, in the fall of 2006, I had become Daddy.  The better Morningstar got to know me, the more he opened up to our little family.  Jon - Mommy - was the food-giver.  He also had a great respect for his older sister, Zippy.

Morningstar's name may have been chosen from the market he was taken from, but I knew it had another meaning.  He shared his name with a legendary being: an angel whose beauty was as bright as the Morning Star, which became one of his many names after his fall from Heaven.  Morningstar was definitely my little Lucifer.

He lived up to his name.  When on my lap, he would show his love with sharp claws kneading my leg.  Those claws would also flash out from behind a corner into the leg of anyone passing by.  Morningstar was the bane of spiders, flies, crickets and anything else smaller than him - including dogs.  Weighing in at 22 pounds, that included quite a few creatures.

Since moving south of the Mason-Dixon, we have had two dogs.  I've never been much of a dog person; Jon has that covered.  I don't hate dogs.  In fact, I've known quite a few and got along very well with most of them.  I just prefer to think of myself as an animal lover with an affinity toward cats.

Our first dog in DC was Ani, a puppy mill rescue miniature poodle.  She was a sweet pup who shared our lives until she was taken by cancer.  Morningstar respected her for the lady she was.  Even though he would occasionally sneak attack her from behind the couch, I feel he knew she was sick.  On several occasions, I caught him curled around her protectively as they slept.

Jack was the next dog to join us.  Also a rescue, this pound puppy brightened our lives after Ani passed.  Definitely not a replacement, he filled a void in our family.  This lovable Shih Tzu mix also became a fun, lively plaything for his feline brother.  More often than not, whenever Jack ran through our home he was followed by a white and grey blur.

For all of his virility, Morningstar wasn't always the tough guy he wanted everyone to believe.  The thought of rival cats terrified him.  While he could stand up to the neighboring dachshund and beagle who would visit Jack, Daddy needed to protect him from the skinny street cat who took shelter with us one stormy night.  I can still remember the deep rumbling growl and sabre-like claws digging into my arms until the poor unfortunate was sent back into the night.  I was also the chosen protector from thunder, which would send him shaking to curl up by my side.  Unfortunately, I couldn't protect him from the vacuum, which was mostly in my control and would send him streaking under the bed, and the kitty carrier, which turned him into a sorrowful, yowling, quivering mess.

When we finally moved to Greenbelt, MD, in 2010, Morningstar had become the cat he was meant to be.  Though I've had many cats while growing up on the farm, I've never had one that was as loving and loyal as a dog.  Morningstar knew the sound of the car and would meet me at the door.  If he wasn't following me around, all I had to do was click my tongue and he would come running.  Weirdo Cat would nudge open the bathroom door, just to curl up at my feet while at the toilet.  He even tried to crawl into the shower until he decided he wasn't a fan of getting wet.  If he couldn't find me, we could hear his squeaky mew as he searched, like the high-pitched voices of the over-sized gangster henchmen in the old Loony Toons cartoons.  To his last day, I was the only person that could ever hold him.

My fondest memory of my Morningstar - where he truly made his mark - was at bedtime.  When Jon and I would lie down for the night, all the animals would join us.  Each would get their treats.  Jack would be the first to join us, always being at Jon's heel and knowing he would get a couple chewies for the night.  Morningstar would follow at the shake of the kitty snack bag, squeaking and tripping us until his handful of treats was placed next to the bed.  Zippy would saunter in shortly after everyone was settled to lay next to Jon's pillow and tickle his nose with her tail through the night.

Jon and I would settle in with our books while Jack made his nest between us.  Once the dog stopped moving around, I would feel a soft landing at the foot of the bed followed by footsteps up my chest and a nose pushing under the spine of my book.  As soon as my book was moved, Morningstar would stretch his length from my groin to my neck, with his front paws tickling the whiskers on my chin.  And the deep rumble of his loving purr would begin.  That rumble would shake down through my chest and vibrate my own heart; it's sound would drown out the insects and birds of the night.

When I would finish my book for the night and the lights would go out, I would fall asleep petting my boy, lulled to sleep by his comforting vibration.  This is when I would think, to contemplate the darkness and question the meaning of life.  This is when my words would take form, my muse purring on my chest.  This is where I gained the Mark of the Morningstar.

Morningstar passed in December of 2012 due to renal failure.  We had him put down for his own comfort and to ease his journey.  I still have a Ziploc bag containing a clipping of his fur to remember him.  I occasionally hear scratching at the bathroom door when I'm lost in thought.  I can feel soft paw prints padding up my chest when I can't fall asleep.  After two years I have not forgotten and his memory will live on.

It has been said there is no love nor loyalty like that of an animal companion.  Jon loves me more unconditionally than is humanly possible, but I will never again feel love like that from my Morningstar.