We Celebrate Isis

August 10th, 2014 by Magdalena Tabor

In Loving Memory of Isis Tabor, July 3, 1994 – August 4, 2014we celebrate isis

If ever there was any doubt that Isis was an ordinary cat, the following exerpts from her long life will dispense with all that. She was a unique and loving personality but more, she was full of fun and mischief. In short, she had a sense of humor, albeit “biting” at times. In later years we saw less of this but glimmers of it still “punctuated” who she really was. It is with these moments we reflect and celebrate the life of a very special human type cat.
We should have known in the first few days of acquiring little Isis, what we were in for for the next twenty years…..At four months old she was already getting into trouble. She fell into a urine filled toilet and had to have her first bath. Afterwards, we would always remember to either flush or close the lid. Isis gave us our first lesson in good hygiene.
I never understood the concept of the next fixation (or the many others) which would prompt us to dub Isis as “high maintenance”. Each morning we would find all of our socks and underwear on the floor with the drawer empty of its contents. It sat in a mysterious pile with no clue as to how this might have happened. Warily, each thought to accuse the other of this bizarre prank. As it happened, Isis was caught in the act one day and chastised for her foolishness. This did not stop her from continuing the practice for several years. The scratch marks are still on the drawers that, oddly, spur a slight smile in recognition of her antics.
Another queer ritual was finding a neat little pile of toilet paper on the floor each day, still attached to the roll hanging on the wall. Again (this time, neither of us with so much as a thought to ask why, how or what the….?) Isis was found to be the culprit. We’ll never know for certain but maybe she was counting how many sheets to a roll.
All plastic, such as grocery bags, cellophane from movies and cd’s or the like, were kept out of sight. Isis had a peculiar habit of eating said plastic, whether for the crunchiness factor or an indefinable epicurean taste, it will always remain inexplicable. This, and the consuming of curling ribbon, another appetizer kept from paw’s reach, would ultimately lead to loud belly aching and the spewing forth of the ingested material. It would not, however, stop Isis from pursuing her passion.
No matter where Isis roamed in her midnight ramblings about the house, she always announced “I AM HERE! GET UP AND SCRATCH MY HEAD!” or “I HAVE TO USE THE LITTER BOX AND I HATE THE STINKING THING!” or “DON”T STEP ON ME, YOU CLUMBSY BLEARY EYED HUMANOID”. Isis had a way with words.
For many years, before the arrival of other cats in the neighborhood, Isis was never happier than when she was outside tethered to the deck. The trick was getting her to come back inside. No, she did not come willingly. Michael had the unfortunate task of donning oven mitts to avoid serious injury. If she could have, she would have had a t-shirt made up with her credo….”Live to go outside. Go outside to live”.
Making the bed each morning was no easy task for me. Isis reigned. She woud sprawl regally and with a look of utter disregard, permit you to make the bed around her. In other words, do one side of the bed first, then go around the other side where she would cheerfully consent to reposition herself to another part of the bed I would still need to reassemble. This would repeat itself over and over until the entire bed was finally made. Strange idea of fun, but there you have it.
For awhile, Isis had a habit of pulling my hair in the morning with her teeth in an effort to wake me up for breakfast. If this didn’t work she would bestow a series of sandpaper kisses on my eyelids. Her trick with Michael in the middle of the night was worse; stepping on his solar plexis just for a head rub.
Woe be to those who got up in the middle of the night to relieve themselves. I’m not sure but I think Michael may still have the vampire scars on his legs. An anguished cry of “OW!” was the resounding echo followed by a steady stream of blood running to the ankle. This, thankfully, stopped with the progression of Isis into maturity.
If Isis were a lion, she would more than likely have the loudest roar in the jungle. Her announcement entering a room was enough to startle you into grabbing your chest. Had she been human she might have been an opera singer. Perhaps this is what her next life will bring her to.
And finally, the Fenster Bear Mystery; a tiny Steiff bear who mysteriously disappeared when we lived in Briarwood. He was found when we moved to Seaford and then immediately vanished once more. That was 14 years ago. I have no doubt that when we move the next time, his whereabouts will become known. When we find him (and we will) he will feature prominently as Isis’s most loved treasure.
Isis believed herself to be an Only Child, regardless of the fact there were other adopted siblings of which she either ignored or resisted with repulsion. Her deep and abiding affection for both Michael and me was unsurpassed. She made it quite clear that only we two were the center of her universe. She was most definitely our STAR. Isis, your voice will forever echo in our hearts. Life without you is impossible to imagine.

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3 Responses to “We Celebrate Isis”

  1. Michael Tabor Says:

    What a superlative tribute to a very special human – type cat. Magdalena, I can even recall some other interesting antics of hers, but you certainly captured the essence of our precious baby ! RIP Isis

  2. magdalena Says:

    There is further proof that Isis was recognized as human. Her prescription from the pharmacy was typed with the recipient’s name “Isis Tabor” and paid for in part by our medical insurer. Who says cats aren’t part of the family?

  3. Chipster Says:

    Very touching tribute and quite an insight into the reclusive furry child/character I heard so much about.

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