My husband Monte nudged me at 6:00 a. m., at the dawn of a delightful May day. The sun was rising to warm the spring flowers sprouting up all around our property. “I think it’s time,” he said. Drowsily, I turned over. My foot hit something soft---our “Lady” was at the foot of the bed, in active labor and wanting to be near us. While Monte roused our two children I hurriedly gathered the designated stack of old towels and laid them round about for “Lady,” better known as Shenan (short for Shenandoah). We’d spent the previous few days catering to Shenan’s ever-increasing demands for closeness and affection. At her most communicative time, she and I spent over an hour just purring to each other. She’d been most comfortable curled up beside someone willing to give her a “belly-rubbin’,” thanking her with her loud purring interspersed with appreciative soft mews. At one point she’d jumped up, let out a fifteen second howl, and grabbed on to me for dear life. I’d thought that was her time, but it wasn’t. Now, with her time imminent, she crawled up against Monte’s side while he rested quietly, not sure what to do or what to expect. Although I was anxious to share this event with those in whom Shenan’s confidence rested, it soon became obvious she wouldn’t deliver right then. The children drifted off to prepare for school and Monte finally arose, dressed and left for his office to work. I was to keep them posted, to notify them of the big moment. I laid down beside Shenan and caressed her softly while she purred and cuddled close. Rolling waves of contractions occurred every four to five minutes. She appeared puzzled as to just what this business was about, and became distracted between contractions by a bee flying around the ceiling. She was tempted to chase it, but seemed to think better of the idea. The ties on my nightgown became a call to play until another contraction brought her attention back into focus. Although several times it looked like the current contraction wave was “the one,” it wasn’t until about seventy minutes after the initial nudge marking the beginning of her labor that it looked like the delivery was coming. I quickly called everyone, not caring if the kids were late to school. We saw a set of tiny paws with white claws emerge first. Our new arrival exited and withdrew, as though it wasn’t sure it was time. It finally dawned on us we were in trouble---it was a breach birth, feet first. And the arriving kitten’s head was stuck. During several unsuccessful attempts to complete the birth, I tried to tell the family it just didn’t look good for this new arrival. But our Lady had other plans. Several sudden, violent contractions accompanied by an unheavenly yowl and the newborn was here. At first the bundle didn’t budge. I thought the stillness proved my fears. Then a tiny meow, an uprising of the abdomen and an attentive mama---and we knew our new arrival would make it. Emerging from a good licking by Shenan was a small orange fireball with white marks. Exhausted, our Lady completed the after birth process and settled in to rest, gently meowing. Her volume rose if we left the room, reminding us she needed us by her side. Finally, the family continued their day’s schedule: the kids off to school, Monte to his office. Shenan and I curled up for a much needed rest. My job as labor and delivery coach was completed. Our new mother and her litter of one were doing well. Gizmo grew into a large orange cat with an attitude. He lived a full life, nineteen years, traveling from community to community with us. His death came while Monte and I were on a vacation to New England in the summer of 2003, shortly after we’d moved to our retirement home. Gizmo had been experiencing health problems for a long time. My daughter, who discovered her death, and my granddaughter, laid her to rest beside our garage, where he rests in peace. ---written by Carolyn Visit http://www.flickr.com/photos/carolyncholland/ to see a photo of Shenan (THE CAT WITH THE CALICO TAIL). Also visit the Beanery Online Literary Magazine's photo site at: www.flickr.com/photos/beaneryonlineliterarymagazine/ | 
