Moon Surprise

I was putting on my shoes when I heard my husband call through the screen door, "Nora, I need you in the back yard RIGHT NOW". It was June in Wisconsin and we live near enough to the Milwaukee river that June can be an exciting month. There have been numerous bird sightings, odd insects, deer, opossum, raccoon, owls, rabbits galore, red squirrel, grey squirrel, coyotes, and on one rare occasion a mink. We ran out to find, sitting in our yard with it's head barely above the blades of grass, a tiny white kitten.

I'll take the opportunity to tell the reader that we had 3 cats already. Yes, intentionally. We don't have children and aren't planning to, we have cats.

I've never seen anything like her, she was as small as my hand. Very calm. Calmer than I was that's for sure. Our friend from Scotland was visiting and said he thought by the timbre of my voice that something was terribly wrong but I was just weeping out of sheer astonishment and joy.

We searched the yard for Mamma cat or litter mates. No one was around. Later we fed her with an eyedropper, she was THAT small. Small but healthy the Vet said, and about four weeks old.

Funny thing is that there was never a discussion about "What to do". It was the Universe bestowing upon us our official 'crazy cat people' status. We always knew it, now it showed.

I was hoping kitten would bond with me, but when she met Cedric it was all about him, I never stood a chance. Cedric is our gregarious, charming, very-dog-like cat. He took over and would cry outside her door while she would be crying for him on the other side. They had that whole Romeo / Juliet thing going on.

There was a full moon last year, on the day she showed up. Between her pale blue eyes and mottled coat, she makes a good "Moon".."Moon Surprise" that is.

Happy Birthday Moon Pie.

Lucky me.

Sometimes I feel like the luckiest person in the world. Really. When I was 7 or 8 years old my Mom and I went with a bus full of people from Milwaukee to the Field Museum in Chicago to see the "Treasures of Tutankhamen" exhibit. I remember her preparing me, telling me how old the objects were, their story, and how they were precious beyond compare. Real, live, treasure. I remember the lines of people queuing up the enormous stairs outside the museum and how when we entered the exhibit how she lifted me so I could see inside the cases. In one was a chair for a child, made for someone just around my age, the boy king himself.

We had dinner with Mom's friends who had traveled with us that day. The man leaned over and asked, " Would you like to be an Archeologist? You could work at the Museum." I had no idea what an archeologist was but the idea of working in a museum was so exciting, so beyond anything I'd imagined myself doing. That night I hung the poster we'd bought of Tutankhamen's golden death mask on my bedroom wall.

I got older but always maintained an interest in ancient Egypt. I wore a cartouche with my name in hieroglyphics on it until it's silver began to wear away, I attended lectures whenever I could including one on my 18th birthday titled: "What's new in ancient Egypt? " I read books and was riveted by any PBS special on the subject. I was an Egypt geek.
Eventually, I went to art school (Archeology wasn't in the cards for me). Got a job at a natural history museum and was lucky enough to be part of the exhibits department there for fifteen years. In 2001 I visited Egypt, for the trip of a lifetime. In 2005 there were layoffs, I lost my job and then there was, depression.
One day I got a call asking if I'd be willing to travel as an artist with an exhibition. I was given all the pertinent information, what was expected, per diems, lodging, pay, etc. I agreed. The very last thing I asked before hanging up the phone was, "What's the exhibit?" "King Tut". I tried not to squeal. I think I may have said, "Cool". I can't remember the exact words, but I remember the exact feeling-- Lucky.
I've been on the Tut crew for about five years now. Sometimes as I look in the cases at the treasure inside I can still conjure that childhood feeling of being lifted by loving arms, my eyes wide and my feet dangling.