After living in West Springfield for three years, Missy and I decided to separate for a bit to be certain that we were ready for what could come our way should we move forward with telling friends and family about our relationship. Fortunately for me, Missy’s parents weren’t too keen on the idea of having a pet, so no discussion was needed about who would take Kramer. He was coming home with me!
My parents, who have always been animal lovers (I grew up with almost every animal imaginable), were happy to welcome another pet home. And, because they still lived in the house where they raised seven kids, there was plenty of room upstairs for us to have our own little apartment.
While it was a tearful goodbye for Missy and me, and for Missy and Kramer, we knew we’d be seeing each other frequently. Well, as frequently as we could now living 2 hours apart.
Kramer was so not a fan of the long drive to our new place, and he made it vocally known the entire way. Other than that, we settled in pretty quickly. He had alone time during the day to acclimate while I worked in the family business a couple miles down the road. Every now and then my Mom said she could hear him running around, having a grand old time. He’s always been a pretty easy-to-please cat.
Like most cats, he loved to sit in the window, so when I’d leave for work, I’d leave some open for him to sunbathe in. One day, Mom calls me at work.
“Hi Kerri, it’s Mom. First off, Kramer is fine.”
That’s never a good start to a conversation. My heart leapt into my throat. “What’s wrong??”
“Well, I was doing dishes, and when I looked out the window into the backyard, I saw Kramer walking alongside the house.”
“How the heck did he get out?? He can’t even get downstairs!”
“Well, I went outside to get him and noticed the window screen on the ground. So I guess he took it upon himself to get out – from the second floor.”
I hung up the phone and jumped in my car. I got home, scooped him up, and squeezed him. He seemed totally unfazed, rolling around in the grass. He’s always had this “It’s all good” attitude. Another Kramer life lesson we’re still trying to adopt. Shortly after this incident, I received another call at work. It was dejá vu. “Hi Kerri, it’s Mom. Kramer did it again, and he’s fine.” Off I went again to check him out and put him back upstairs… and put the screen back in the window. Lesson learned – only crack the window from here on.
With just the two of us now, Kramer took a liking to sleeping in, what I call, the “nook” – inside the curve of where my arm meets my shoulder. OK, my armpit. 🙂 He trained me pretty quickly to get in position for him. If my arm was down by my side, he’d lick it. Because the sandpaper feel of his tongue bugged me, I’d move my arm. The first time, I didn’t move it completely out if his way, so he continued to lick it until it was up next to my head so he could curl up in the nook. This became our nightly ritual; one I would come to cherish. Of course when Missy came to visit, I became invisible, but I appreciated the fact that they had limited time together, so gave them their space.
Just as he was my loyal companion in West Springfield, Kramer was my guiding light for the year or so that Missy and I lived apart – always was and always has been a walking example of unconditional love. He has the incredible ability to love me enough for the both of us when I find myself in a place of not feeling too loving of myself. I don’t know how I would have survived that year without him, my little Angel.
Coming up next: The Kramer Chronicles, Part III: The Reunion