Julian & Sophia—April 2020

They first met nearly 13 years ago in Bangor, Maine. She lived with my parents. For a summer family vacation I loaded the boys, then ages 13 and 6, along with my lovely into a Southwest Airlines flight north. We dropped the boys off at Grandma and Popa’s place so Sarah and I could experience a week of summer rest in Bar Harbor. (Be sure you pronounce it as the locals do: “Bah Habah”.)

Sophia lived with G & P. 

She was their rescue cat.

She was a preening, prancing, fully cat-like member of their household and Julian instantly adored her. 

Julian, even then, was strong and could be rough without realizing it; the way Sophia calmed him down and brought out a gentle side, a kindness, was amazing. He’d sit on the floor and pet her and she’d relish it. We snapped a picture or two which I think are now in a scrapbook somewhere. I can see Julian’s smirk of delight and Sophia’s utter disregard for the camera both evident in remembering those early shots.

Some years later, Grandma and Popa wanted to have a dog and offered to give Sophia to us. They had all the necessary gear after years of hanging with the feline, so on a particular road trip, they dropped her and her luggage off at our place in Nashville. She was instantly Julian’s cat. Sure, she lived with the rest of us, but she was his kitty. Again, his slowed down, kinder side would show up time and again. 

She rode with me in the moving truck when we came West years ago. The Valium I gave her sure made the trip easier for us both. (Side note: it is hysterical to watch a cat on Valium; I’m not sure she’s truly forgiven me for that.) We’re guessing Sophia is

something like 17+ years old at this point. Again, she was a rescue so no way to be definitively sure. She’s an old, set in her ways, what-are-looking-at kind of gal. She has her favorite haunts in the house: the lower cabinets near the sink, under the bed in the upstairs bedroom, sprawled fully out slap in the middle of the king sized bed in the master bedroom and on the edge of the love seat in the living room. She’s not a fan of company; if church friends or extended family come over, she will outright hide for hours, the only evidence of her existence being the white cat hair stuck to your clothes when you rise from that love seat. 

But every evening somewhere around the after-dinner hour, Julian will look for her to pet her and talk softly to her. Once in a while she’s accommodating to laying on his bed as nightfalls while he tells her about his day and gently pets her. Once he nods off, she’ll wander the house like she’s on guard over Julian and all of us. She’s definitely Julian’s cat. But, she’s more than a pet, she’s a true friend.