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Tribute to the real Alfy

6/28/2013

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PictureSqueaky and Alfy - Best friends
I wanted to write about Alfy, a special cat on which I based one of my book's character. Then I found this memorial to him which I wrote shortly after his death. I was distraught and writing him into my story seemed to give me comfort. Now that I want to include stories of amazing cats on my website, it seemed the perfect place to publish this. Thanks for your indulgence.

IN MEMORY OF ALFRED (ALFY)

Too often we dismiss the death of a pet as a minor event, not sharing our grief because we hold animals to be somehow less important than man.  But they are fellow souls that contribute richness to the world.  They are devoted companions that can mean as much to us as our fellow humans.

Alfy saved my life.  He was an extraordinary cat.  He woke me each morning at 4:49, a minute before my alarm clock.  Even day light savings changes only threw him for a day or two.  He was absolutely dependable.  Then one morning he woke me two hours early and refused to let me fall back to sleep.  At his insistence, I roused enough to smell the faintest hint of smoke in the air.  I tried to dismiss it as my roommate sneaking another cigarette on the porch, but Alfy would have none of my sleepy carelessness. 

When I rose to investigate, I found a small fire on the porch.  A careless cigarette had ignited a pot of discarded butts and the resulting fire had melted the container, spreading the flames across the concrete toward the house.  The growing pool of burning plastic had already consumed yard tools and debris.  As I looked, the flames were starting on a table leaning against the house.  It took me fifteen minutes to douse the fire.  Plastic is oil based and seemed to reignite even as I poured water over the traveling mass.  I have often wondered how long it would have taken before it burned the house, had Alfy not insisted I get up early that morning.

Alfy was critical in our rescue of a small, injured, orphaned kitten we named Squeaky.  Squeaky was barely alive for days after his surgeries to repair a large gash on his leg.  Alfy tenderly nursed him back to health, cleaning his fur, coaxing him to eat, playing gently with him, and watching over him.  As Squeaky grew they became best friends, and romped through the house together for the next several years.

Alfy coaxed me back to health, too, as my marriage ended.  He stayed by my side through my divorce and my forced move to a new city.  His natural affection soothed my many tears and made me chuckle, even as I mourned the loss of my dreams.  He greeted me at the door each time I came home and nuzzled his way into my arms as I fell exhausted onto the couch after work.  I fell asleep each night to the sound of his purring and gentle melodic mews. 

There was no time for me to say good-bye when he passed.  I neglected to realize how seriously ill he was when I left him behind at the vet’s that day.  It never occurred to me that his life force, so strong and joyous, even on that final morning, could so easily pass away.  The shock has shifted to guilt and regret.  My sorrow is now a pervading loss of feeling.  Squeaky and I carry on. 

I remember his soft tongue kisses, his caressing paw, his three foot leaping on crooked legs, the smell of his soft fur, and the loving wisdom in his eyes. 


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The Earl of Southampton's Cat

6/18/2013

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Picture

Picture
I first conceived of adding at cat to my Shakespeare's Witch series when my beloved cat, Alfie, suddenly died. Writing him into the story gave me great comfort and, before I knew it, added an important dimension to the work. However, since then, I have often been questioned about the cat. 


I've been advised to remove the cat from the story, assured the cat was not relevant to the plot, and informed that cats were not kept as pets. But I had a feeling over the years that the cat needs to stay. 


I love to do my research while I'm eating breakfast and this week I uncovered an amazing piece of information in "Shakespeare and the Earl of Southampton" by G.P.V. Akrigg. The Earl was imprisoned in the Tower of London for treason for several years. Mr. Akrigg reports that ,"In his long periods of loneliness, Southampton had for his companion a cat, one which later tradition reported had been a favorite of his in more fortunate days and, finding its way to the Tower, had reached him by coming down the chimney into his quarters." 


This picture, often used in illustrations of the Earl, shows him in his cell in the Tower. Over his left shoulder, you can see a wall hanging of the Tower of London. To his right is ... is "favorite" cat.
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    Author

    Jodee Steffensen
    AKA 
    J.D. Steffensen

    PictureJodee (J.D.) Steffensen
     Historical and Romance Writer, Amateur Herbalist, and Seeker of adventure, new knowledge and all things good!


    Hobbies?  I've adored cats all my life. I came to love Shakespeare when I was introduced to him in college.  I developed an interest in herbs when a dear friend was diagnosed with cancer. I learned about the complex politics of Shakespeare's world when another friend gave me a book, "Shadow Play," by Clare Asquith. 



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