Jose and the Song

I've always loved animals and spent my young childhood playing with our blue heeler (Princess) and dalmatian (Pepper). Then, when I hit my preteen years, my world turned upside down. My brother died of AIDs when I was ten and I started getting bullied when I entered the sixth grade. Not only that, but the chemicals in my body were going haywire. I went down a spiral toward depression, out of which I've spent a lifetime trying to climb.

One day in my freshman year in high school, I was sitting in study hall and honing up on French class lessons. I was learning the name of animals.

"Dog...le chien...fish...les poissons...cat...la chat."

I looked at the little picture of the cat in my French textbook. My family had always been dog people. We've never had a cat before. It hit me just then that cats could be very loving, yet aloof at the same time. They are mysterious and regal and very beautiful. To have a cat choose you as its human would be a very great honor. I made up my mind that I was going to learn more about cats.

So I did. I went to the library and checked out books about domestic cats. That branched out to fictional stories involving cats. I checked out Cat Fancy magazine and eventually subscribed to it. All this without owning a cat of my own.

My family picked up on the fact that I was going cat crazy. One day, out of the blue, my dad announced that we were going to the animal shelter to adopt a couple pets: a dog and a cat. The cat would essentially be mine.

My younger siblings picked out a chocolate lab named Jenny. My mom went into the room where the cats were caged.

"Come here, Heather," she said. "I like this one."

It was a male white kitten with orange spots. When Mom stuck her finger into his cage, he pounced on it. The shelter had named him Highway. I wasn't sure about adopting a fiesty kitten (I was thinking a calmer personality), but when I asked to hold him, he purred in my arms. He had claimed me. I asked about his name. The warden said it was because they found him on the highway, but I could name him whatever I want. I changed his name to Jose (pronounced ho-say), partly because it sounded like Highway, partly after Jose Canseco.

So, I had a cat. I was pretty happy. Except school was still terrible.

One thing you must know about me is that I was and still am a Beatles fan. One day, I came home from a particularly hard day at school. I plopped into a chair and called, "Here, kitty kitty." Jose ran into the room and jumped into my lap. He purred and rubbed on me. I stroke him from head to the tip of his tail. I was in the mood for a sad song, so I started sofly singing "Yesterday."

I'm not saying I'm the best singer, but Jose must have liked it because he purred harder. He looked up at me with his big green eyes. As I came to the part where I sang, "Why..she..had to go, I don't know she wouldn't say," Jose put his paw on my cheek. I felt better. I may not have been loved at school, but I had a little kitty cat at home who loved me.

It became a ritual. Anytime I had a bad day, I would sing one of the Beatles' slower songs. If I happened to be in a good mood, I would sing a peppier song like "Yellow Submarine." Jose would just sit on my lap and love on me.

And that's how the Beatles and a little kitten got me through some hard times.