19: White Doe Radiant (Bubby's Elegy)

I adopted Bubby with my then girlfriend Tekla in the fall of 2006. I had graduated college just a few months earlier and was still reeling from the immediate and permanent splintering of my social circle. Going to school had been my purpose my entire life, more than twenty years. I hated my "college" job, resented my social circle for splintering, and had a tumultuous relationship with a beautifully complicated woman who desperately wanted a cat.

The White Doe of Rylstone by John William Inchbold

At that point in my life I had only interacted with one or two cats my entire life. When I was six or seven, I slept over at my neighbor Matt's house. In the middle of the night, the family cat Smokey came wandering out of the shadows, purring and curious as he made a beeline for my sleeping bag. Mistaking his purring for growling, I was rigid with fear. I was afraid of everything back then, but this silly little black kitty unnerved me to the core. The poor guy purred and rubbed against me and stepped all over me, hoping for attention. To me it felt like a strange pre-meal ritual as he growled and decided where to begin biting the shit out of me. He wandered off confused before my heart gave out and I wandered back to the Gremmer side of the duplex in the middle of the night, ashamed and shaken.

I don't have a picture of Smokey Matzke (wouldn't it be weird if I did?) but this is a close approximation to the menacing beast that accosted me in the dark that fateful evening *shudder*

And that, ladies and gentlemen, was my formative experience with cats for the first twenty-three years of my life. It wasn't like I was ducking into alleys and resigning from jobs to avoid cats, and perhaps it was mostly bad luck that I went so long before being forced to try again, this time understanding what purring was.

In a dysfunction typical to everything we did together, Bubby's adoption was the result of a fight and meltdown that delighted our observing friends but left Tekla and I shelled. In a moment of late night good intentions, I told Tekla I would be happy to adopt a cat with her and keep it at my apartment, because she couldn't have cats at hers. I think we both knew we would be breaking up any minute. To me that meant the cat would go with her. To her, that merely meant there would always be a cat at Jack's house from now on. I have a habit of agreeing to things I don't think the other person is serious about.

The day before our meet and greet at the adorably shabby cattery inside Mounds Pet Food Warehouse in Middleton, WI, Tekla and I discussed and agreed we would adopt whichever cat had been waiting the longest. A few seconds after we arrived, sixteen week old Bubby (then Fern) had hilariously busted out of a linen cabinet and into our hearts. Well, into Tekla's heart. As was typical of 2006-2009, I was wondering what I had gotten myself into.

About four months old here, still testing out all the furniture to see what she liked

Spoiler alert: she liked this ottoman and used it for all fourteen years of her life

The timeline is hazy but if I recall correctly Tekla and I broke up on the walk back to the car. I got "stuck" with Bubby and she became a popular attraction at my apartment on High Point Road in Middleton.  My college friends were endlessly amused at what had transpired, and if people weren't enjoying laughing at me, they were enjoying laughing at Bubby. My new white cat went through a few "pet names" but Bubby wound up sticking for three reasons: I liked the repeat "Bs" because they matched well with my website Baby Teeth, the name can mean "grandma" and her personality absolutely fit the bill, and finally, it was fun to say.

About six months old, winter of 2006 - she loved the "canyons" of this couch and would adorably roll from one to the next to avoid cramping during LONG naps

Our first year together was utterly dark and painful for me and completely uneventful for her. She was a happy, healthy kitten who loved to explore. See seemed to take great pride in reaching new heights and accessing hideouts around the apartment, and I'd often lose track of her only to find her in some weird spot with a smug as fuck look on her face. My journals during this year are mostly self-obsessed and panicked, but I frequently point out how happy I am that I wound up with Bubby. Of important note, this was the time period I met my wife Sara and our soulmate friend Stephie, both of whom had at least one cat. I was becoming a cat person by accident and loving it, baby! I didn't know it at the time but Sara's chunky orange roll of a cat was already sizing me up as easy prey.

Getting bigger but no more energetic. She loved this window and had many woodland friends who would visit her, with a reservation or without

In August of 2007, Bubby and I moved down the road to the slums of Middleton. Another incredibly shitty and self-obsessed calendar year flew by. Tekla came and went again twice in that year. We poured some gasoline on the fire and adopted and returned a pathetic beagle/basset mix named Dewey. He was great for Bubby because she could boss him around and feel like a big girl, but his separation anxiety was the stuff of Lovecraftian nightmares. Tekla and I could barely handle making mac and cheese together, so the dog went and instead Tekla got another cat, a wild child grey tabby named Charlie "Choco".

Dewey "DewCrew" Gremmer-Winarski, the craziest beagle this side of the Mississippi

Knowing what I know now, adding a cat to the mix from 2007-2008 was terrible for my sweet grandma Bubby. It is a testament to how self-centered and ignorant I was back then that I had such a disengaged attitude towards her well being. Luckily she did just fine outside of eating a few spaghetti tank straps and developing crippling IBS, exacerbated by the stress of cohabitation. Ugh. But the crazy thing is, between the two of us, she was the healthy one! 

It was early 2008 when I discovered Bubby's absolute joy for "The Bag Game": place a plastic bag flat on the floor a few yards away from Memaw. Add a few pieces of cardboard or paper in and around the bag to increase crispiness and therefore enjoyment. Using the handle end of a fishing toy, create the illusion of prey moving under the bag and paper, lightly rustling and raising the items. Watch for the patented butt wiggle and see her dive from distance, slide, roll and fall asleep in pure joy 💓💗💙💚💛💜

It was the summer of 2008 when I fell head over heels in love with Bubby and formed a bond with her that would wind up informing at least the next twelve years of my life. The story is far too long to include here, but the short version is that I came to a realization that I had everything I needed already and could be happy if I was virtuous enough. My bond with Bubby, taking care of her and vice versa, made me more patient, caring, observant, and curious. But most of all, and most critically for someone like me, awkwardly navigating a confused life, she took by force my self-obsession and refocused it on her - and, in turn, literally everything else on earth other than myself. My parents and the book The Power of Now helped as well, but it was my relationship with Bubby that actually provided the requisite fuel to sustain my sputtering soul at perhaps the most difficult point of my life.

From 2008-2009 I kept most of my cupboards empty, or preloaded with a cat blanket and toys

I have to basically skip over August 2008 through August 2009, not only because it is too hard to relive but because I don't have a single picture of Grandma Snow White during that time. That only makes me a little sad, I know she doesn't give a shit, but it does make it difficult to elegize an entire year of her very brief life. What I will say about that year is she was healthy and well loved, although only by me and only through a fog of drugs and sadness. 

Some of that started to change in September of 2009. My now three year old grandmother and I were sharing yet another dumpy apartment, this time in the undesirable Vera Court/Mendota Hills area of Madison. I still had no friends and very little joy in my life, but I was free of toxic situations and had a clean slate with which to work. Bubby loved our new apartment and I got a massive raise along with an equally huge promotion at work which made money an afterthought instead of a major stress. I bought a new laptop with my first big paycheck and started writing music again for the first time in years. Within a few short months I had somehow gotten another promotion AND raise AND I started dating my wife Sara, thereby gaining another cat, this time a half-melted orange creamsicle named Doodlebug. Holy shit was I on a (orange) roll or what?

Noodlebird, this post is about your sister! OK, fine, you get one picture, but that's it, lady!! 

Sara was the best thing to happen to Bubby and I. Especially me, but especially Bubby. Sara and I always joke, of the four of us, Bubby was the only sweet one. Bubby's calm and the peace that she exuded through comfort radiated through our household and was both the totem of and foundation for the love we felt for one another. Countless days and nights were spent with the entire family in bed, taking breaks from reading and watching shows to sniff kitty bellies aggressively and gnaw on ears gently, if we could control ourselves. We found a familial identity in being cats, simply ignoring the stresses of being a person whenever possible. Doodle is our firecracker, our fire alarm, and our dinner bell. Bubby was our calming white noise, a peaceful breeze and warm glow that eliminated resistance to rest and suggested peace of mind beyond vocabulary. 

My second favorite picture of Bubby, taken by Sara on the catwalk of our first apartment together, October 2010. For whatever reason, our girls got along best right at the beginning, and Bubby was the happiest I've seen her during this time. She had TWO people doting on her constantly, and her new crazy mother even let her outside now and then!

...and my favorite picture of Bubby, taken around the same time 💓💓💓💓💓

Bubby lived the life of Riley the first two years Sara and I were together, first at our catwalk loft on Carver Street and then at our duplex on Reetz Road. Both places had lots of sunny spots and fantastic outdoor options for her, and the fact that Sara and I kept different work schedules meant that most days someone was home to pay attention to her for the fifteen minutes out of the day she wasn't sleeping. 

Sara got a new camera summer of 2011 and Bubby was the big winner. 

If you need any pictures of Bubby, I have them.

Her life somehow went from great to amazing in April of 2012. She and her sister moved in with grandma and grandpa Gremmer in Green Bay while mom and dad were galavanting around Thailand. I used the picture below for her Facebook eulogy but I have to use it again. It brings tears of joy to see how AMPLE her health is here. My dad deserves sainthood for the continuous supply of photos and videos he sent me while we were away, and while I know he and my mom enjoyed taking care of the cats, the cats absolutely adored being with their grandparents. Quite frankly, they never cared for Sara and I the same way again 😂😂 Bubby had a wonderful year in Green Bay, finding and torturing mice, overeating, receiving daily breakfast massages AND nightly Brewer game massages from my dad, and logging countless hours at the backyard screen door observing wildlife. It was paradise and you can really see the joy in her fat rolls. 

Doodle sneaks in, AGAIN!

I got back from Thailand in the summer of 2013 and stayed with my parents (and cats) until Sara got back the following summer. It was a quiet but enjoyable year; my parents didn't charge me rent, I was making decent money, and the cats were VERY happy to spend more time with grandma and grandpa. 

When Sara did come back, although the two people in our family were struggling, the cats continued to do great! From June of 2014 to April of 2017, Sara and I lived and worked in Green Bay. We had a small house on Grignon Street in Allouez and then a fantastic two bedroom apartment just a few blocks west on East River. Bubby had an incredible set up on Grignon because we had an upstairs area we had furnished but never used. She had a dark and cozy closet literally filled with blankets and pillows, her own couch, and two windows overlooking the front and back yard. 

Becoming one with the earth, reflecting waves of peace

Bubby did even better at our place on East River. She had a new cat tree facing our second story patio and a spot at a window overlooking our backyard that frequently saw deer and other woodland friends. This was unfortunately the first year that we noticed any signs of Bubby not being a kitten anymore, as she needed a major dental surgery that left her with only a few nubby teeth left. Our friend Caitlin referred to her as "Gummy Sue" and it stuck. Although she recovered well from surgery, it was incredibly difficult to see her in pain, woozy and defeated. She soldiered on, unfazed and snoozy. 

One of her favorite spots on East River. When you saw her perk up you knew something fun was going on in the marsh behind our apartment. This was a few weeks after her dental, fall of 2016. 

Sara and I moved to Fort Collins in April of 2017. The cats did great on the road trip, with lots of help from my dad. Once we were settled in our new apartment I felt good about Bubby, but between the move, getting older, and sharing a tiny studio apartment with her coldblooded sister, our first year and a half in Colorado was brutal for her. She was in and out of the hospital with IBS symptoms, dehydration, and general misery for months. After an exploratory surgery and a definitive diagnosis of IBS with a future possibility of cancer, we started her on steroids to ease her IBS symptoms. The general consensus on the steroids was they would help with her IBS but were bad for everything else. 

A blanket haven in our studio apartment in Fort Collins, August 2017

She was sick all the time at this point but got much better with medication :)

But, my god, did they work for her IBS! Her vomiting, an off and on issue since she was two years old, went away almost completely. Her toilet issues stopped completely. It seemed like a wonder drug, but any time I said something to that effect someone would quickly point out the drawbacks. In time, we noticed she was getting colds a lot more frequently and seemed to have even less energy if you can imagine that. Her oncologist even said taking steroids for a long time can make the cancer that eventually forms more powerful and harder to treat.  Even with the side effects, I'm grateful we found that medication because it clearly improved her hour-to-hour life regardless of what it did for her year-to-year prognosis, and she was back to her old (haha) self again from early 2018 to early 2020. 

Those two years were great for her and our family, and outside of a few dingleberries being flung across the room, the cats were a pleasure to take care of. Bubby benefitted most when we upgraded from our studio to a comfortable two bedroom condo in August of 2018. She literally had her own bedroom, her own queen size bed, a separate magical mushroom cat tree against a sunny window...AND a princess perch ottoman facing our screened patio! ARE YOU KIDDING ME? 

December 2019, still happy and healthy, still solar powered 🌞🌞🌞

Along with the clear benefits of the steroids, her adoration of her living environment here put her in a wonderful spot for what became her last chapter with us. When she was feeling well, she would move from one cat nest to the next all day, visiting us in between each change of scenery. You could tell when she was feeling 100% because she would straggle into the living room, make sure the entire family was watching, and fall over onto the area rug like a beached whale. She'd extend her silly body into a furry crescent moon and gaze half asleep at the couch: "Are you watching?" 

When she wasn't feeling well she would stay put. That started early 2020, she would only get up to eat or very occasionally to visit. In the winter and spring, she would perk up greatly when we visited her, stretching and purring and basking in our adoration of our white-iced cinnamon roll, our possibly racist grandma from another era who can't understand the rat race, or really anything. 

I have a vivid memory from April of this year, visiting her while she dozed in her magic mushroom. Life is almost entirely rote routine, so when I went to grab the scruff of her neck with my lips like usual and found there wasn't enough sweet, sweet flab to grab, I immediately broke down. I had thought of her death many times, simply because of how much she means to me, but this was the first time I felt its presence. I looked away with vertigo and sobbed. Why, when she had done nothing wrong and was in fact the only nice person in our family, was she the sick one? Why did she have to suffer when I was being tasked with less than I could handle? I knew life was unfair, uncertain, and unforgiving, but seeing Bubby stay sick was the first time I felt the fullness of life's cruelty, the disregard reality has for us laid bare.

We said goodbye to Bubby on a Monday (she always hated Mondays), July 20th, 2020. We were incredibly blessed to be able to say goodbye to her in person, at a top of the line vet where she had been given round the clock care for days. What that meant was she was feeling better than she had in months, and that was clear as day to her mom and dad. It might have actually saved Sara's soul a little bit, because to have only the last few months of her illness to remember her end would have been unbearable. Instead, we got to hold her in our arms, wrapped up like a cheese-smothered turkey roll. She was purring with energy and focus, making rapid biscuits with her front paws and wiggling a bit to get more comfortable in our arms. She was happy to see us and there was a sense of relief in her eyes I hadn't seen in some time. Although I was eventually able to say goodbye with great numbness and shock, I was first able to say hello and reintroduce myself to a healthy and happy version of my baby. I'll of course never really say goodbye.  

It would have been great to have her live the next few years of her life at the emergency room, visiting with her when she wasn't receiving round the clock care. Knowing her personality, she would have milked it for all it was worth and loved every minute. That option wasn't there, and only one option remained. 

I always knew I would have to say goodbye to Bubby, and I always knew when that time came I would not be ready. She was such a quiet, calm soul. Despite her illness, she was so incredibly easy to take care of. Her literal and figurative warmth was the literal and figurative heartbeat of our family. I spent countless hours in meditation with her, holding her in my arms, on my lap, or just resting my head on hers. She was patient and welcoming each and every time. She made her appreciation for our care clear and would reward us with a forehead lick or headbutt to say, "You can stay." She had the personality and resonant soul of an aged grandmother who had seen it all and needed a nap to forget it.

I will miss her tired face. I will miss her squishy jelly bean toes, at once both sandpaper tough and raindrop soft. I will miss her lawnmower-in-the-distance purr, with its many power levels indicating her level of bliss. I will greatly, longingly miss seeing my wife dote on her; the intense joy it brought Sara and the hilariously alternating joy and annoyance it brought out of our Memaw.

Most of all, I will miss her smell. Bubby had the most wonderful neutral earth powder scent I've ever experienced. Every morning, every evening, and every opportunity in between I would drive my face into her fur and breathe deeply, the ancient neutrality of life, her warmth flowing into me, negating resistance to what is and channeling acceptance of the present moment. Those moments of clarity, of togetherness, of oneness, will never be forgotten or replaced. 

I will miss everything about her. I will always love her. I couldn't repay her for the joy she brought me while she was alive, and that was frustrating. I couldn't properly communicate to her just how much I loved her, but I've come to accept that I came as close as any one person could with any one cat. 

Bubby, you are and shall always remain an angel to me, a reminder of goodness itself, a passing glance from god here to stay. 

With all my heart,

Dad