I just looked at 2043 West 14th Ave, Vancouver, on Google Maps, hoping to get a view of the bonsai-like tree that rested on the front lawn. This tree is important to me. I have a memory of my 30-something birthday party with my roommate, friends and family sitting under it on a hot, sunny mid-August afternoon, enjoying games of crocket, bocci ball and eating barbecued hamburgers that I made from scratch. The tree wasn’t very tall, maybe about six-foot something, flat on top, and its leaves draped down like vines to the ground below. It was the perfect tree for Bengal, my tiger-striped tabby cat. She was fearful and sensible and wouldn’t climb up anything else, thank goodness.
My roommate had a black short-haired cat named Sophie who Bengal tormented by chasing her all over the place when they were inside. They were mostly indoor cats and we let them out occasionally with supervision. They never strayed very far. We called Sophie the queen of outdoors because when they were out together, Bengal looked to her for protection and submitted to her. Today, however, Bengal was the queen. Her throne? That tree.
While we enjoyed the cool protection of the shade, she gingerly climbed up its narrow, gnarly trunk and slithered through the tightly-knit branches, resting somewhere in the centre of the tree. She sat there for hours, just enjoying the view and being higher than everyone. She looked down at us with big black eyes, tail swishing, ears flat. She wasn’t afraid of anything and felt safe with all of us around.
I went inside to get some watermelon slices to feed to my parched guests. When I came out platter in hand, I looked over at the tree and poking out from its flat top, I saw two pointy ears and a stripey head, just her head, as if she was grinning at me saying, “Look at me, Mom!” The queen had become the confident and sly Cheshire cat, leading the way for others to follow.
She has led me through so many phases in my life, all the way to her last. Just before she took her last breath, she snuggled her head against my body and moved towards my purse which used to contain a small bag of catnip. She was whiffing away and then suddenly dropped as the sedative kicked in. She didn’t fight, she just rested. And she rested peacefully until her heart stopped, allowing her to be free of the body and mind that with age had betrayed her.
When I found the picture of the house, I saw that the tree had been removed. My heart sank but maybe that tree had suffered too. It had served its purpose on this earth just like she had.
Climb that tree and be the queen of everything, Bengali pet, because you were just that to me.
blaak sheep 