Ode To Clover by Todd Rainer

Ode To Clover

by Todd Rainer

I’d like to tell you about one of my dearest friends. A wonderful fellow who, though very young, carried more love in his soul than many people I’ve known. He came into my life for a very short time and was taken from me suddenly and violently. Clover was a shorthaired cat that my wife and I found at the Houston pound with his brother. They had been in the pound for about three months in the adoption program and we figured they were about five months old when we first saw them there in separate cages. Both were frisky little guys, meowing at us, and reaching through the bars of their cages begging to be touched and loved on. Both were equipped with beautiful black and white markings that had grayed some in the confines of their cages where the only place they had to lay down was in their litter box. Both wanted a home desperately. There was no way we could make a choice between the two, and there was no way that I could separate these two who had been together through so much, being born on the street, or thrown out by some uncaring person, then being captured and brought to the pound to linger in separate bitter metal cells until someone, maybe, finally, took them home. And there was no way we could not take both these boys home with us. We came back the next day to get them out of their penitentiary and after waiting for a some time in line to take care of adoption paperwork we went to their cages and put them in separate carriers for the journey to their new home. Clover got his name from the shape of the black on the back of his head, his brother is named Moustache, because of the black strip under his nose that makes him look like a Spanish pop star. We got the boys home and let them out of the carriers and they greeted each other with so much joy that my wife and I were both almost in tears. It’s was easy see that these two supported each other and cared for each other and recognized the other as family. We had the usual cat shenanigans with our other kitties. Pixel, Bit, and San were all hard sells on these two new interlopers of the food bowl and have never properly forgiven my wife and I for not discussing the bringing home of Clover and Moustache. But, after about a week things were settling down. Everyone was finding their place again in the pecking order with the usually kitty politics that’s to be expected of a five cat household. Everyone was happy, Clover, I think, the happiest of the bunch. He seemed to be truly thankful of being liberated from his dismal cell that had been his forlorn abode for so long. He would climb up onto my chest and nuzzle my cheek and touch his tiny pink nose to mine. If I cradled him to rub his belly, which he loved to have rubbed so much, he’d reach up with his little paws to touch my face, with never a claw extended. And such a purrer! He purred so loud that you could hear him from across the room, never mind when he stuck his nose in your ear! Never have I seen such gentle love in one of these little eradicators, never has one looked me in the eye with such gracious love as Clover has. In the mornings, when Lisa and I would be barely awake, you could hear them in the living room, kitchen and office, galoomping through the house like tiny four-footed maniacs. We knew that all they wanted was for one of us to open the bedroom door so they could charge in bounding and bouncing and plunging into bed with us to fight, and love, and kill, and cuddle, and gnarl, and be just the sweetest little murderers you’ve ever seen. Often, more often than not, Clover and Moustache would curl up together in my wife’s chair in the living room and hold their many siestas embraced in each other’s arms. This was one of the sweetest sights I’ve ever seen. They would patrol the house and yard, side by side, moving in unison like a small flotilla of ships patrolling an ocean. They’d suddenly assail one another with much gnashing of tooth and slashing of semi-bared claws only to wind up a little black and white, eight legged snarl of cat cleaning. They had even gotten our young San Ban Nekko involved with these kitty “smack downs” and it didn’t matter where they were, outside, inside, in a chair, under a table, in the bed, laying on dad or mom… didn’t matter at all. The winner cleaned the loser and the loser lay there and got cleaned, fortunately, the three boys were pretty uniformly matched in battle expertise, so everyone got cleaned at one point or another. One Saturday, my wife and went out and instead of making the kids all come in like we normally do, we let them stay out, thinking that, in our neighborhood of expensive homes, road humps, responsible people, and caring animal lovers, that our kids would be safe. Sadly, we didn’t consider that on the weekends our neighborhood is often a shortcut for the weekend partiers that frequent our part of town. When we got home we saw a note tacked to the door. The note on the door apologized, and told us that a car had hit Clover. The friendly and caring neighbor had taken Clover’s body out of the street, and placed him on the grass next to our driveway, another caring neighbor who walked by had covered him with a towel. She also took his brand new collar and tag with his name and phone number on it so she could call and leave a message for us when we got home. To these kind and loving people I will always be grateful for their tender handling of the loss of Clover. We’re sure that he didn’t suffer. As I picked up his tiny lifeless body I could see the dried blood on the right side of his head and I was sure that he’d died instantly from the trauma that was inflicted by the car that hit him. Clover is now buried in our garden, in an honored place beneath a beautiful flowering tree that arches over our drive. In the very near future I will be planting Red Clover over his grave, and some sort of flowering plant to honor him and the joy that he brought our family. We’re all lonelier now that he’s gone, I regret letting him out of the house, I regret not holding him more in my busyness, I regret never taking his picture. There are so many regrets that I can’t name them all. Mostly I regret that because of my irresponsibility, Clover is gone. I’m very sad that Moustache has lost his brother, and that he seems lonelier for it. My wife and I try to take up some of the slack, but we both know that it’s not the same and that Moustache will mourn in his own way, just as we do. A little over 24 hours ago there was a beautiful and wonderful creature in my life, who I had grown to love very, very much and who gave so much love in return. In the blink of an eye he was gone forever. I think that’s the lesson here. That in a blink of an eye, someone, or something you love can be gone forever and all you can do is pick up the pieces and move on no matter how hard that is to do. Moustache still walks around the house calling to his brother. My wife and I still expect Clover to walk in the door even though I placed him in his tomb myself and my wife placed a single white rose, from a bush he loved to play with, with him. My wife and I want to deny that he’s gone, and Moustache just wants his brother back. But we have to move on. I’m moving on. My wife is moving on. Moustache is moving on. We’ll all be just fine, maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but eventually. Clover lived upon this world for about eight months. Most of that life was spent in situations that were far from ideal. I’m proud and honored that he spent the last three months of his wondrous life bring joy to my family. If there is a Heaven, a Happy Hunting Grounds, a Summerland, I pray that he is there waiting on us. That he will be there to greet us when we finally make the transition from this life to the next so I can see his beautiful face, hear his lovely purr and feel his paws upon my cheek. Clover, wherever you are my dearest, sweet, feline friend, we love you now and always, and we apologize that we weren’t better, or maybe just wiser kitty parents. Todd D. Rainer

Comments would be appreciated by the author, Todd Raine