My Mother's Cat Marigold, circa 1985

Marigold was my mother's cat. I say this because they had a special bond together. My mother was a quiet woman and so was Marigold. In their mutual silence they communicated in ways my father and me could not participate.

But I found Marigold, or rather as the cliche goes, she found me. In the fall of 1977, while attending CSUF, I had moved out of the dorms and into my own apartment in Brea. One afternoon I came home from school to grab a jacket for later. I might've left the door open. When I came back out of my bedroom, I saw this kitten standing in the middle of the living room. Maybe the door was cracked open. At the time I thought it was my roommates' girlfriend's cat. They had mentioned the cat was going to be a guest while some work was being done on her apartment. So I left, leaving the cat locked inside.

That night I went to the Wilshire movie house to see Paul Newman's THE EFFECT OF GAMMA RAYS ON MAN IN THE MOON MARIGOLDS. When I came home, I found two cats in my living room.

We checked around the neighborhood to see if anyone was missing a kitten. We heard nothing. I named her Marigold. My roommate and me were in no position to bear responsibility for a cat. So I brought her to my mother and father's home.

My parents treated her well for the next fifteen years. I think my mother took these pictures of Marigold performing gymnastics on the porch railings. Marigold was a blessing for my parents and an excellent conversation piece. She was a constant companion for my mother in those years my father was in a convalescent home.

My mother called us the day Marigold died. She told us Marigold had been feeling poorly the past few days. The previous evening she had crawled into the bathtub to sleep and my mother heard her crying on and off throughout the night. In the morning, my mother found her dead. She called the pound to have Marigold's corpse picked up. They came right away and took Marigold from the tub. From that point on, my mother refused our offers to get her another cat. After my father and Marigold, she'd had enough of death. She didn't want to experience that pain again.

Until she died, whenever my mother talked about Marigold with us, she would remind me how I brought this little kitten home zipped up inside my jacket with her tiny head sticking out. That was a transcendent moment for my mother. She recognized her new friend. I felt that way when I met my dog Buddy.

The Effect of Gamma Rays on Man-in-the-Moon Marigolds - imdb