LORI
My mother never cared for cats. Cats were the witch’s familiar, and her fear was proof of how much she believed in the supernatural. She was entranced with the idea of spells and curses, often assuring us that if anyone did our family wrong, she’d cast a spell on that person. The legend of Dracula was one of her favorites, and she collected as many vampire books as she could find.
I remember how she’d crack my bedroom door open, deepen her voice, and warn me, “I’ve come to suck your blood.” I’d look up at her, half surprised, half scared, and she’d stand there, waiting for me to speak, and then burst into laughter.
On some nights, particularly if my mother and I had watched one of her favorite vampire movies on television, Bela Lugosi as the Count, I’d place a cross on my night table before I went to sleep. My father was Jewish, and my mother, having converted (for some reason I had never quite believed that she had, but my father vouched on her behalf), was content to raise her daughters as Jews. With no real crosses to be found, I made one out of two pencils and a rubber band.
In spite of her superstitions, somehow we ended up with a cat, a Siamese male, a specimen of unrepentant elegance that would pad along the arms of the den couch. Unlike all the other pets, the cat was forbidden on the terrace, as he could slip through the bars and plummet down twelve stories. One day, in spite of all our caution, someone left the terrace door open.
From Terrace with a Zoo, Chapter 4
I remember how she’d crack my bedroom door open, deepen her voice, and warn me, “I’ve come to suck your blood.” I’d look up at her, half surprised, half scared, and she’d stand there, waiting for me to speak, and then burst into laughter.
On some nights, particularly if my mother and I had watched one of her favorite vampire movies on television, Bela Lugosi as the Count, I’d place a cross on my night table before I went to sleep. My father was Jewish, and my mother, having converted (for some reason I had never quite believed that she had, but my father vouched on her behalf), was content to raise her daughters as Jews. With no real crosses to be found, I made one out of two pencils and a rubber band.
In spite of her superstitions, somehow we ended up with a cat, a Siamese male, a specimen of unrepentant elegance that would pad along the arms of the den couch. Unlike all the other pets, the cat was forbidden on the terrace, as he could slip through the bars and plummet down twelve stories. One day, in spite of all our caution, someone left the terrace door open.
From Terrace with a Zoo, Chapter 4