Emily Hanson, Rory & Teddy
Left to right: Rory, Emily, and Teddy
For many years I was a cat lady without a cat, largely due to the instability of life as a graduate student and the perpetual promise of next year abroad. Over the years, I sheltered no fewer than five cats in my apartment and pet-sat at least six more, mostly for friends in academia on research trips. While I was helping those friends, their cats helped me stave off the persistent solitude of academe. Even St. Jerome is often shown in his study with a lion.
Just before I began my doctoral program I fell in love. With a human. By chance, two redheads from Seattle found themselves in St. Louis at the same time. He for a summer, me for much longer. He soon moved back to the Pacific Northwest and we established a long-distance relationship. In the first summer I spent with him in Portland we set up our separate work routines. He bought me a desk so I could study for my exams at home while he worked downtown. His apartment was the top floor of an old craftsman, which was not built to withstand the increasingly warm summers. So, we always had the windows open to create the semblance of a breeze.
“She followed us around as we picked blackberries in the alleys and took walks through the neighborhood. After taking her to our vet friend and posting found notices everywhere, Rory made us into a little family.”
Rory
Soon a slinky black cat came squeaking in through the windows. She rubbed her face over the desk, my legs, the couch. She made herself at home instantly, curling up for a nap at my feet as I read. When Reid came home, I excitedly told him about my visitor. “Oh, yeah. I know that cat. It comes over all the time.” I realized that I may have interrupted her routine—perhaps I was the new roommate. Once she finally came over at night when we were both there, he named her Rory. We welcomed each other and I soon had a regular study buddy in Rory. After waking up to her sleeping at the foot of the bed, we realized this cat probably had no home. We would call out for her when we arrived, and she would come running and squeaking up the stairs to the deck entrance. She followed us around as we picked blackberries in the alleys and took walks through the neighborhood. After taking her to our vet friend and posting found notices everywhere, Rory made us into a little family.
It became harder and harder for me to leave at the end of my holidays because I would leave behind both Reid and Rory. Reid supplied me with a steady stream of Surrealist photos of the cat, full of impractical sleeping poses and blurry too-close shots of her eyes, which are the color of new tennis balls. He has raised her like a dog, in many ways, and she couldn’t love a human more than she loves him—it’s borderline possessive. Theirs is an improbable relationship; he’s allergic and she always desires close contact. Reid and Rory had several different homes and furry roommates in the few years before I could finally join them, but for the last three-and-a-half years we have been home together.
Teddy
“The last few years have been incredibly hard, especially with the loss of my dad. I honestly don’t know how I would have made it through it without the affection and constancy of life at home with these two cats and Reid.”
Just three weeks after I finally moved to Portland, we were celebrating my sister’s birthday in Seattle and came across the most adorable kitten outside in the misty cold. We were early to our friends’ place and Reid spotted this little ball of fluff nearby—I searched and spotted him seconds after Reid. As I leaned down to outstretch my hand closer to his level, the little guy ran up to me and rubbed against my leg. That was all I needed to scoop him up. I felt him purring and nestling into my scarf and jacket. I instantly worried about him getting lost in the nearby busy streets, so I sat with him in the car while we waited for our group to assemble. He purred and stared up at me with big eyes, but I didn’t dare think Reid would allow a second cat. Found off Roosevelt Ave, we named him Teddy immediately. After a few trips between there and Portland for the holidays, we managed to get him checked out with our vet and posted all through Seattle and online about a found kitten. Soon he was ours.
Teddy is obsessed with showers, perhaps from growing up in the rainy streets of Seattle. He even seems to ask “show-er” of us several times a day, with his chattering voice that often expresses “heh-whoa” greetings (he might be part Maine Coon). And Rory squeaks instead of making more typical cat noises, with an occasional “ack” thrown in when she’s especially into her kneading. Teddy has always gravitated toward me, so Reid and I both have our cat loves. The last few years have been incredibly hard, especially with the loss of my dad. I honestly don’t know how I would have made it through it without the affection and constancy of life at home with these two cats and Reid. We almost lost Teddy to a urinary blockage just a few weeks after my dad died—I was so worried and so deep in my grief. Teddy is on a special cat food regimen now and I think it helped encourage us all to cultivate a lower-stress lifestyle and for me to take notice of grief and its expanse through my life.
This is a particularly poignant moment in my life with Reid and our two cats. I am about to finish my dissertation and start a dream job teaching in Italy. It’s gratifying after all these years of hard work, but it is also bittersweet. Reid will join me partway through, but the cats will stay behind with family or friends. I am thrilled for this opportunity and cannot wait to make the most of it, but I am looking forward to coming home to my cats again. Just as I cared for so many other cats, I too will need someone to help do the same as I embark on this adventure.
Emily Hanson is an art historian, about to embark on an adventure teaching Renaissance art on-site in Italy after wrapping up her many years as a student.