BUD 1986 - 2007In time, I won’t remember this past week as Bud. I'll mostly remember him by memory's of times like the 4 road trips, during the early 1990’s, in my Volkswagen - between Connecticut and Seattle - with him driving shotgun... One of those mornings, I woke up, alone with Bud, surrounded by Volkswagen GTI, in a rest stop I had chosen in Idaho (during the deep, dark, moonless night) to sleep a few hours till the sun rose. I sat on the roof with my legs comfortably draped through the sun-roof, Bud draped comfortably in my lap, and watched the sun rise from behind beautiful, moonscape mountains that we were surprisingly - not only among - but on top of. …or… living in the third floor walk up with him in Providence, Rhode Island while I went to Drama School. We would literally play hide and seek in that apartment. I would hide, he would hunt and seek me. He totally spoke English. Sometimes he spoke in meows; sometimes he spoke with his fabulous tail. It helped if you spoke Rago. And I did. Do. He made me want my own tail.
Bud was born somewhere near or in Providence, Rhode Island. He was one of the first Turkish Van’s in the U.S. I think. At least six toes on every paw made him unwanted by his original humans; Mange on his nose and skinny appearance made me think he was not likely to be adopted by anyone other than me at the Providence Humane Society. It helped that he looked at me squarely and calmly in the eye. Mellow and alert. A grand combination in baby cats. I try to be mellow and alert myself.
I’ve only known my “adult” years with Bud waiting for me at home. Various homes. 3rd floor walk up with Kathleen and her own baby cat, Lilly, in Providence; the cool, Victorian boarding house in Providence. The studio apartment in Seattle. Then Chicago… the beautiful, vintage, 3 bedroom apartment with Amy, Peter and their own good cat, Morgaine, in (at the time) scary Uptown, then to the Ukrainian Village with them. Then the great 7 years in our own one bedroom apartment in Ravenswood Manor. Than one year in Old Irving park (where we met Shazam and adopted him as our own), two years in Avondale, two years in the Ukrainian Village again and finally - the South Loop.
Bud. Not Buddy. Budly, yes. Buddy no. Rags, yes. Ragamuffin, Rago, Lamb, Lamby, bunny, Rabbit feet, BUD.
Good boy. Lucky boy. Funny boy, smart boy. Turkish/American, New Englander. Those of us who knew him will miss him terribly, but are better, wiser, funnier and smarter for knowing him.
Shazam and I will be ok on our own in the South Loop. But it will not be the same. We will courageously soldier on without Bud on this earth, and maybe some day even save another Turkish Van who needs rescue. But I’ll never forget the guy who always was with me as I grew from a teenager into an adult, became a stage actress, moved around the country and joined the circus on the other side of the camera with the big boys of Hollywood.
Bud.
In acting class at Victory Gardens, they asked us to make up our own tongue twisters that were difficult to say fast repeatedly. Mine was particularly good. “Bad baby Bud bit a big bug.” I know for a fact of at least one Chicago Actress who still uses the phrase as a vocal warm up. I know I always will.
He kept my heart opened for 21 years. Now its up to me.
I can do it. Now I know how.
Bud was born somewhere near or in Providence, Rhode Island. He was one of the first Turkish Van’s in the U.S. I think. At least six toes on every paw made him unwanted by his original humans; Mange on his nose and skinny appearance made me think he was not likely to be adopted by anyone other than me at the Providence Humane Society. It helped that he looked at me squarely and calmly in the eye. Mellow and alert. A grand combination in baby cats. I try to be mellow and alert myself.
I’ve only known my “adult” years with Bud waiting for me at home. Various homes. 3rd floor walk up with Kathleen and her own baby cat, Lilly, in Providence; the cool, Victorian boarding house in Providence. The studio apartment in Seattle. Then Chicago… the beautiful, vintage, 3 bedroom apartment with Amy, Peter and their own good cat, Morgaine, in (at the time) scary Uptown, then to the Ukrainian Village with them. Then the great 7 years in our own one bedroom apartment in Ravenswood Manor. Than one year in Old Irving park (where we met Shazam and adopted him as our own), two years in Avondale, two years in the Ukrainian Village again and finally - the South Loop.
Bud. Not Buddy. Budly, yes. Buddy no. Rags, yes. Ragamuffin, Rago, Lamb, Lamby, bunny, Rabbit feet, BUD.
Good boy. Lucky boy. Funny boy, smart boy. Turkish/American, New Englander. Those of us who knew him will miss him terribly, but are better, wiser, funnier and smarter for knowing him.
Shazam and I will be ok on our own in the South Loop. But it will not be the same. We will courageously soldier on without Bud on this earth, and maybe some day even save another Turkish Van who needs rescue. But I’ll never forget the guy who always was with me as I grew from a teenager into an adult, became a stage actress, moved around the country and joined the circus on the other side of the camera with the big boys of Hollywood.
Bud.
In acting class at Victory Gardens, they asked us to make up our own tongue twisters that were difficult to say fast repeatedly. Mine was particularly good. “Bad baby Bud bit a big bug.” I know for a fact of at least one Chicago Actress who still uses the phrase as a vocal warm up. I know I always will.
He kept my heart opened for 21 years. Now its up to me.
I can do it. Now I know how.
4 comments:
Beautiful. My heart is with you. I've been there.
IIR, Words can't even begin to express my sadness at your loss. Just like Sarah, my heart is with you.
...my condolences. What a sad loss, what lovely memories.
I'm so sorry to hear about the loss of your buddy!
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