Sensata and Sensibility

I drive by this plant and "Bainport" every day. I feel for the employees, many of whom are friends and patients, but this has been going on with this plant, previously Honeywell, for the last decade. Friends have had to train their replacements in Mexico, India and China. The only reason this is making more news is that it is a Presidential election year and it has become a rallying point for the Democratic ticket. We are losing jobs left and right, even the Unemployment office is scheduled to be closed by our Democratic Governor Quinn, but I don't see the Reverends Jackson or Sharpton out protesting this, because it doesn't support their cause of pinning it on Romney. And while President Obama is not invested in Bain Capital, neither has he returned more than $125,000 in donations for his campaign from them either. Much like Fairgrounds Road, where "Bainport" has set up camp, this is not a one-way street.  Sensata and Sensibility  The President and Bain Capital

Schatzie

   

“Blessed are you, Lord God, maker of all living creatures. You called forth fish in the sea, birds in the air and animals on the land. You inspired St. Francis to call all of them his brothers and sisters. We ask you to bless this pet. By the power of your love, enable it to live according to your plan. May we always praise you for all your beauty in creation. Blessed are you, Lord our God, in all your creatures. Amen."                                                                                                                         Pet Blessing for St. Francis of Assisi

She was the pick of the litter. We had thought about taking her twin brother, as well, but settled on one kitten. We named her Schatzie, after the German endearment for "treasure." She received the appropriate name. Schatzie came home with us when she was six weeks old in the summer of 1985. We had just moved into our new apartment in Chicago. I was starting my residency and my wife, Irena, was to return to her teaching position at St. Hedwig's in Chicago. A cat seemed like the perfect companion. Low maintenance. No midnight walks. Relatively self-sufficient.

I know that imprinting takes place among birds, but I think that Schatzie and I must have shared some of the same type of bonding. Cats are notorious for being stand-offish, preferring to do their own thing. Schatzie became a people cat. She would climb up my pant leg when I came home and perch herself on my shoulders. I would walk around the house with her draped around my neck like a live fur coat. I would relish in her gentle purring and the warmth she provided. She quickly found her sleeping position on either my back or one of my hips. In the morning she would be on my chest, greeting me with a rough tongue on my chin, which was probably even rougher due to my early morning beard.

That summer we went on a return trip to northern Michigan, where we had gone for our honeymoon. Schatzie spent the week keeping the mice at bay. She crouched in the corner and would stare for hours, waiting for a meal. She enjoyed curling up by the fireplace in the evenings staving off the evening chill.

When I was growing up I had two cats. One died early, only days after he came home with us from the humane society. The other, Mike, was a Siamese that stayed for a month or two, before he was given away. My parents did not have much of an affinity for cats, especially house cats. I was determined that Schatzie would have a good home and be well-loved.

It is said that there is a certain symmetry to life. The first time we ever came to Freeport was to pick up our friends' cat, Cassie, who they could no longer keep. Our friends were living in Waterloo, Iowa and we offered to take their cat. We thought she would be good company for Schatzie. We met at the old Burger King on Galena Avenue. Little did I know that in five years we would become residents of that same city. Even more unusual, I guess, is that Dr. David Labadie, whose cat we took into our home, would come to join us in Freeport, eleven years after that. She and Schatzie never did see eye to eye. Schatzie wanted to play and Cassie wanted to be left alone. Schatzie wanted to explore and Cassie was set in her ways. Cassie eventually went to live with a family on a farm in Wisconsin.

"The smallest feline is a masterpiece."                                                                                                              Leonardo da Vinci

Schatzie welcomed our children born in Chicago. She greeted Mary with curiosity when we arrived home from the hospital. She paced with us when Irena was in labor with Veronica and curled up in the corner waiting when Veronica was born. She seemed to take it all in stride. She still found her corner of the bed, though most often it was somewhere on me where she could stay warm through the night. She sat in the car during the move to Freeport, not knowing what adventures lie before her or us.

She would survive an attack by a neighbor's dog. She would greet another girl, Claire, born at home. She would make herself at home in our next house. Welcome another daughter, Teresa, born in that house. Compete for attention with our new dog, Bijay. Be entertained by several hamsters that lived much shorter lives. Find herself moving again into our current house. See another dog, Taffy, come into the house and go to live with some friends on a farm by Elizabeth. And be there for the birth of our son, Greg. Through it all she remained a lap cat, or in my case a shoulder cat. If I wasn't available she would jump up on the lap of just about anyone who came into the house. She would play with balls rolled to her and jump at string. Her favorite game was a form of peek-a-boo where I would put my fingers in the crack of the door by the hinge and she would bat at them.

Schatzie had a few problems with her kidneys over the years. Dr. Condie or Dr. Summers would help us keep her healthy and she'd be right back on track. During the summer months she would wander the woods near our house. Her caterwauling would usually wake me up around two or three o'clock in the morning. Some nights she would jump out of bed when Claire was having a seizure. I think that she alerted me on more than one occasion to check on Claire in the middle of the night.

Over the past year Schatzie's kidneys became weaker and we had to confine her to a back room. Eventually we set up a place for her in the garage. We try to prepare for the inevitable. We share with our children that every living thing, people and animals one day will die. It is all part of living we tell ourselves and them. When a pet comes into our lives we give of ourselves and learn about the unconditional love that can come from this living creature. They are dependent on us and without knowing how or when, we become dependent on them. And then, even though we think we are prepared, we find ourselves in tears thinking about the life that was lived. When the ninth life is up, a part of us goes with the life that was.

"The cat has too much spirit to have no heart."                                                                                                                   Ernest Menaul

Schatzie died sometime between Saturday night and Sunday morning. I could never think about euthanasia for her. She was meant to die at home. She was getting weaker and we knew that there wasn't much time left for her or for us with her. I held her on my lap Saturday evening. Her purr was barely audible, but it was there. She tried to lift her head and managed to lick my fingers. It is never easy to say good-bye, but we both knew that it was almost time. She would have been seventeen in a couple of months. I know that is a long time for a cat, but it doesn't make it any easier. She was with us longer than any of our children. She taught us and them about love, life, playfulness, tolerance, and eventually death.

This winter my shoulders and neck will not be nearly as warm. Our days will go on. Our sorrow will weigh heavy. Our memories will remain. Bless you, Schatzie, for coming into our lives. You will always have a place in our hearts. And on our laps.