Every Picture Tells a Story: Frankie — Pentagon City, VA (1995)

 

EVERY PICTURE TELLS A STORY:
FRANKIE
PENTAGON CITY, VA (1995)

Question 1: Where does a cat sleep?
Answer: Anywhere it wants.

Question 2: When does a cat sleep?
Answer: Anytime it wants.

I’ve always had pets. Animals bring joy. They’re great companions.

This is especially true for single people.  Before I was married, I had pets.  I never felt alone.

I got Frankie by accident.  Around 1987, I was at a family Christmas party in Dallas.  My Aunt Rosemary and Uncle Ted were the hosts.  They had four cats, including an orange-ginger tabby.  This fourth cat, which was a stray that had been found next to a garbage dumpster, didn’t get along with the others.  When Rosemary and Ted learned that I had my own place, they persuaded me to become a cat parent.

Frankie came home with me and from that moment forward — my life changed.  After work, coming home to an empty apartment wasn’t as lonely.  It helped that Frankie was very vocal.  He loved to talk and interact.  A few years later when I moved to Europe, I considered taking Frankie with me.  But instead, he ended up staying with my mother.  So, when I got back to the States, Frankie was waiting for me.  He’d been a foster cat-child for too long.  Now, he’d enjoy being a part of a permanent family.  Forever.

Marieta never had cats growing up.  She always had dogs.  But from the moment he jumped into her lap and purred, Frankie charmed her, and she instantly became a cat mom.  We moved to Washington, and Frankie came along on the ride.  Ten years later, we moved across the country to Las Vegas.  Frankie was with us then, too.  So, Frankie ended up living in Dallas, Washington, and Las Vegas.  Pretty exciting for a cat that had been rescued while hanging out next to a dumpster.

In early 2003, I was working on an assignment out of town.  Frankie had become an old cat.  We never knew his age, since when I adopted him he was already fully grown.  He must have been 18 years, at a minimum.  Maybe older than that.

Frankie stopped eating.  He was very skinny.  One night, the phone rang.  When I saw it was Marieta, I knew what happened.  It was time.  To every season, there is a time.  Frankie passed away.

Losing any pet is tough.  But losing Frankie was devastating.  A very good friend came and took Frankie’s body.  He was kind enough to bury him upon the mountain on the far west side of Las Vegas.  Frankie always loved heights.  He loved to climb.  He loved to watch people from up high.  He loved to sleep at the top of the world.  And so, Frankie ended up looking down on Las Vegas, and now watches over us, in his final resting place.

This photo was taken in Washington in the mid-90s.  While I was asleep, Frankie decided that I’d make the perfect extra bed cushion.

.