Tappuz Katom

 My husband, Joe Hample was ordained a rabbi at Hebrew Union College in Los Angeles in May of 2009. There was a recession, he was already fifty-two and gay with what some would say was a leftist husband. Finding a job was not going to be easy.

He finally landed a full-time chaplaincy at Pelican Bay State Prison, a maximum security facility on the far north coast of California, in Del Norte County, outside of Crescent City. We went up to look for housing, and found a development of semi-detached modern townhouses, and rented the largest model, a split level with two large bedrooms and one smaller, and a two-car garage at half the price of our West Hollywood apartment. At that point, I suggested we get a pet. 

We lived near the coast, which I thought was great, only I found out there is no real summer there. It's always cool and rains most days, although it almost never freezes. Inland, in the redwoods is sunnier and warmer in summer.

The county dog pound was down the street, and I went one day to see what dogs were available. There was a black and white dog that looked like one of the dogs in the "Mutts" comic strip. I still think about him, and how our life would have been different if we had adopted him. 

But after talking it over with Joe, we decided a cat might be better. We visited the county shelter at the south end of the city. They had three kittens and a female orange tabby one of the workers called "April" and one of the other workers called "Mamie." She was full-grown, maybe two years old. We didn't get the full story of why she was there. When we seemed to show an interest in her, she walked away and tried to hide. We were charmed, 

That's how we came to own a cat. We thought of calling her "Gluekel of Hamelin," "Glekel" being the maiden name of one of my grandmothers, and "Hamelin" sounding a little like "Hample." Gluekel was a prophetess of sorts in the Middle Ages. My sister demanded we find something much simpler. We called her Tappuz Katom in Hebrew, the first name meaning orange, the fruit, and the last name meaning orange the color.

She always had a mind of her own, always wanted to be outside, always used her litter box when indoors. She liked to sleep with us.

When Joe was offered the rabbi job at Tree of Life in Morgantown, of course we brought her with us. That meant over five days in the car, unhappy unless I let her out of her carrier, although then she wanted to be in my lap or on the floor by my feet, both impossible while I was driving. The rest stops on the Interstates had signs saying "No pets in the rest rooms," and since it was summer, I took her outside in her carrier up to the rest room entrance. Kindly women would coo at her and show her all their teeth, which she took as a threat and howled.

Our first home in Morgantown had two outdoor balconies, and she liked to hang there. They were not covered, so she stayed in when it rained, although she seemed intrigued by snow. Outside was more complicated because the living area was on the second and third floor while most of the first floor was a garage. One time, when we left the front door open, the next door dog got loose and followed her up the stairs, scaring her.

She didn't immediately figure out our second house, although it also had stairs leading outside, but this time the porch was covered so she could sit outside and watch the rain and snow.We are on a dead end street that one can walk through, and many people do, especially when they are out with their dogs. Tappuz loved to watch the dogs go by. She wasn't afraid of them.

We had noticed her getting weaker this year. She asked us to lift her on the bed because she couldn't jump up. Her paws didn't always seem to hold her up. She lost weight. I took her to the vet in early April. She had lost the use of one paw completely and although she could still climb the stairs, it was hard. I moved her food upstairs to my office in what would normally be the second bedroom. The vet offered to put her out right there, but I strongly objected. She could barely see, her one paw was useless, she had almost no feeling in her three working paws, and she had lost more weight. The vet said "You can take her home, but understand that it will be hospice care." The last week of her life she came downstairs one day and wanted to go out on her own. We let her, and she came back up the stairs by herself. She also came over to me while I was sitting on the couch in my office. She didn't want to sit on my lap, because she couldn't balance, but she cuddled up next to me. 

The night before our cleaning woman came four weeks ago, I was wondering where I could put her so the room could be cleaned. It was cool out, and I didn't think I could leave her outside, as I had done in the past. Joe said "She's done." Of course, I objected, but I called my sister in Maryland, who has had many cats over the years, and told her the situation. She said "Your cat's life is over." Still, I objected.

The next morning, she had gone on the pad we left in the bedroom closet for her (she couldn't climb in the litter box), but it went over the boundaries of the pad and onto the carpet. I cleaned it up, and assured Tappuz it was not a problem. While I was brushing my teeth, I heard a yowl from her. I ran out, picked her up, and placed her in the litter box. She tried to dig a spot in the litter, but couldn't. She went in the box, but it was mostly black liquid. She crawled out and tried to go under our bed, where she always hid when she was embarrassed about something. I followed her, and I caught her vomit in a tissue before she could get to the bed. She went back to her blanket in the office. I came in and petted her, which would usually make her purr. This time it didn't, and she gave me a look that said "I'm done." We took her to the vet that morning, before the cleaning woman came, and we sat with her while she was tranquilized and petted her. They took her away from us because they couldn't find an uncollapsed vein to give her the final drug  and they didn't want us to see her stabbed in the heart. We didn't take any mementos, didn't want any of her hair or her ashes. We only kept our memories and pictures.

I know I gave Tappuz human qualities, but she and I became close during the early time of the pandemic, when neither Joe nor I were going out much. I felt that she and I really understood each other, and most of the time I could tell what she wanted, or at least that she wanted something from me. I know this story isn't different from the stories of many people with pets, but I wanted to share my love for this animal and my grief at her passing. I still look for her under my desk, still wish she were sleeping with me or between me and Joe. I still wonder if I should leave the door open for her to come in or go out. 

We've talked about getting another cat, or maybe a dog this time. We decided to wait until after the election in November.

                                         Our neighbors indoor cat watching Tappuz

                                              Napping with Joe

                                              In our yard at autumn

Passover So Far

Today (Thursday) is the sixth day of Passover. In Israel, the seventh day is a major holiday and then the holiday is over. In the diaspora, Conservative and Orthodox Askenazi Jews (German-Polish-Russian) observe an eighth day. We've been invited to a Passover dinner Friday night, and we will probably observe Passover until Saturday night.

We welcomed my sister Robin from Maryland Thursday afternoon. Our alternate cleaning woman (the daughter-in-law of the real cleaning woman) came in to help out. Robin went out with Joe to buy clothes Friday and helped him pick out some good suits. I went to the gym. In the afternoon, they cleaned out all the hametz, the food we can't eat for Passover. I'm taking a class at OLLI, Life-Long Learning, about Michael Moore movies. We saw Sicko, from 2006, about how terrible our health system is. Since then, the Affordable Care Act was enacted; things are somewhat better. Hillary Clinton, over the course of the movie, changes from an advocate for health care reform to a sell-out to the industry.

Friday evening, Joe led our temple seder at Lakeview, a resort near Morgantown. I sat at the head table with Joe; Robin sat with a couple she knows well. I migrated around to speak to people who have become my friends. The food was plentiful and good. I ate my annual piece of brisket, and a slice of flourless chocolate cake.

I didn't want to go to the Democratic Women's lunch Saturday. We all stayed home and took it easy.

We had three invitations for a second seder Saturday, but went to the home of friends who are also congregants. More great food and good company.

I was off the rest of the weekend as well, although we all attended an unveiling for the brother of a congregant Sunday and went back to the family home for a late Passover lunch. Joe ran off to Preston County, to do a model seder for a United Methodist Church . I got out on my bike in the morning to downtown, along the Mon River and up through the Arboretum, where spring wildflowers are in bloom.

Robin and Joe bonded over Scrabble. They both are cutthroats; I don't play because I am awful at it.
Robin left Monday and then it was back to the campaign.

With my husband and sister at the first seder

The second seder, led by our friend Art at home

Wildflowers at Core Arboretum Sunday morning

Wednesday night, The League of Women Voters held a forum for candidates. We were to bring snacks, so I brought those awful Passover colored fruit slices that I remember from childhood and wouldn't eat now, and some Spanish figs, which I did eat. They had sheriff candidates and prosecuting attorney candidates before they got to Delegate. There were ten of us; five Democrats for Delegate and two for Senator. The Republican slots are not contested in the primary. Five of the eight of us running for Delegate in the primary will run in the general election.

We only had three minutes to talk and one minute for two questions from the audience. Here's what I said, more or less. I didn't write it down before, and my three minutes were up before I could finish.

" It's Passover now. Four years ago at Passover, I was living in Crescent City, on the far north coast of California, with my husband, Rabbi Joe Hample. Joe worked as a chaplain at Pelican Bay State Prison. Because of a budget dispute with the Republicans, Governor Jerry Brown sent layoff notices to most of the state's employees the previous autumn. Joe applied for jobs at congregations. He let me pick out where to apply. We tried all the big cities and suburbs. No one asked Joe to come for an interview in thirty-six applications. I wrote on my blog ("Barry's Excellent Adventure," still on the internet at www.barrywendell.blogspot.com) that instead of "Next year in Jerusalem," the traditional last line of the seder, I would say "Next year in the city that hires Joe as its rabbi."

After Passover, I insisted he look at the list available to Reform rabbis to see if any other jobs had shown up. There was one: Tree of Life Congregation in Morgantown, West Virginia. Neither of us knew anything about Morgantown. I did some research. I found a large university, a pretty town with homes on the hills above a river. Tree of Life's motto on  their website said "You're Only A Stranger Once At Tree of Life." I said 'I think I found our new home.'

"Joe was skeptical.  He said 'They hate gay people in West Virginia.' I said 'I bet Morgantown isn't like that.'

"The congregation invited Joe for an interview, and he blew them away, as I knew he would. We moved here that July, and made lots of friends. Morgantown has become the home we were looking for. Except for the Republican legislature. In 2015, they introduced bills to take away mine safety regulations, to have voter IDs, to form charter schools, and a local delegate introduced a resolution to the US Congress, to pass an amendment to the Constitution to ban any recognition of same gender relationships. Someone had to do something. I had to do something. We know Morgantown as a friendly, inclusive town. I am running to represent that Morgantown in the state Legislature."

I didn't actually get to say all that in three minutes, but I got the idea across. I made an impression, a good one, for most people. The Delegate who introduced the anti-gay resolution (and also voted for the "right-to discriminate act" this session) saw me after at the refreshment table, and denied having done anything like that. It's in the record.

This morning, I listened to judge candidates on the radio on the way to my writing group. I will be on the same radio show Monday morning for ten minutes. I always wondered what would happen if I were interviewed by Fox News, but I assumed that would never happen. Now it will. I heard the questions they asked two candidates this morning, and how they answered, so I have some idea what the interviewers are like, and what to say and not say as an answer.

I was at the mall where OLLI meets early. People had said to go to the senior centers and chat them up. The center at this mall has bingo at 10, so I was told to get there at 9:30. I was a few minutes later than that. Another Delegate candidate was there, and a judge candidate, handing out pens and cookies, and the county assessor, who is unopposed in the primary. I met a few friendly people, including a woman who said she would only vote for anti-abortion candidates. We had a polite conversation about that. A group of men was eating cheese crackers over by a pool table near the door. I introduced myself and one asked me about my platform. I explained it in a few words. Another man, who wouldn't look directly at me, said he was looking for a KKK candidate. I said "You want that?" He said "Maybe that will clean up this mess, or maybe we could get another Hitler to run. That would help." I suggested he vote for two Republican candidates I named. "They should be close to what you want." I said "Have a nice day," which often has a specific meaning in California, which I won't repeat here. I walked out to my writing group and penned this.

Early voting continues through May 7 at Mountaineer Mall and two other locations, east and west of Morgantown. Primary Day is May 10.