Rita
(portrait in gray and white)

Rita, tabby, gray and white, was my family's nurse. The night I had my heart attack, she laid herself tightly against my side while I slept, something she'd never done before and never did again. The next morning, I collapsed in church and spent three nights in a hospital ICU. I don't know how she knew but she did. After I recovered, she kept a watchful eye when I was in the shower and I'm sure if I slipped, she would have figured out how to get help from the rest of. the family.

Cats have pointy claws
that like to find their targets;
welcome winter laps

Our grandson dropped a bit of food for the dog, but Rita got there first, apparently realizing there were other menu items than the boring dry food we gave her. From there she extrapolated that other delightful selections existed above her head in the human cafeteria. She started sitting on the chair at the far end of the table during dinner, staring daggers at us through squinting eyes in her little gray face. Then little white paws snuck their way onto the table. That led to a few shouting matches. Our blood pressure escalated—but those inscrutable eyes never wavered. We learned our manners.

Crazy as it sounds—
little feline decides
she should be the dog

I found out from Rita that cats don't always land on their feet. We lived for a while in an apartment with an open loft where I kept my computer. Rita liked to walk along the ledge on her soft white paws. One day she decided to come downstairs via the little wing wall of the refrigerator alcove instead of the stairway. She slipped and landed on her side with a hard thump. The vet said she was okay, but it really shook her up. She spent the next two years desperately trying to persuade me that the loft was not a safe place.

Son sits stroking head;
beloved cat tries her best
not to leave him alone.