Juniper Jane 2003 – 2020

She was named after a waitress. My boyfriend and I got her as a going away present from his aunt, a gesture my parents will never get over (“Who gives two 18 year olds who are about to move across the country A KITTEN?!”). I, on the other hand, was ecstatic. What better way to start a new chapter than with an insane two month old gray-frizzed butterball? With my Dodge Caravan loosely packed with the scarce possessions of teenagers, and after a panicked search for the missing kitten who had escaped the van to hide atop the wheel well, the three of us set off from Minnesota and headed west. Juniper roamed the van freely except for the stretch around Spokane where she sat, drenched and content, in a bin of cold water to keep from panting in the August heat.

Our first apartment in Seattle was a small 1-bedroom in the Capitol Hill neighborhood, costing a whopping $660 a month. Yellow mold dripped on our heads as we slept and fleas jumped into my warm soup as I dined, but both were forgiven by our breathtaking view of the Space Needle set against the Olympic mountain range. We lived together this way for about 6 months, until my boyfriend packed up and left to seek a forbidden love in Arizona. Without word, without warning, three became two.

June and I bonded over our mutual abandonment; though she had preferred him, now we were all we had. Over the next two years, we moved six times. 51st & 19th. 40th & 1st. 7th & 57th. 1st & Howe. 92nd & Wallingford. She accompanied me, except for a quick stint I did at UW’s Haggat Hall in 2004. The dorms didn’t allow pets, and I didn’t know anyone who could take her (out of sheer desperation I’d even asked that crazy cat guy who “busked” in The Market); eventually some old roommates agreed to covertly feed her outside of their strictly cat-free house. Every week I drove to Wallingford, parked my van on 1st and walked up and down the block calling her name. Every time as the minutes passed with no sign of her, I would think, “this is it, the last time was the last time,” and mourn a little mourn. But every time, she would come trotting out from behind one of the many quaint houses that lined the street. I’d scoop her up and take her to my minivan, give her food and water, and we would spend the day together. At night she would be my fuzzy pillow, the hum of her purrs lulling me to sleep.

Over the next ten years we lived in a variety of houses, with a variety of roommates, and a variety of other animals (all who she despised). She came and went as she pleased through my open windows (as, too, would I, as I was notoriously forgetful of my house keys). She would disappear for weeks at a time and each time I would think, “this is it, the last time was the last time”. But then again, so too would I disappear, often crashing on the couches of friends across the city. 46th & Fremont. 58th & Roosevelt. 59th & Roosevelt. Eventually after another breakup in 2014, I moved back to Capitol Hill and for the first time since the first time, it was just the two of us. In that studio apartment, she transformed into an overly affectionate, talkative, and dare-I-say needy cat. I went through a transformation of my own – one of introspection, vulnerability, dare-I-say confidence. After three years of living without roommates, without the internet, with intention, we packed up and moved to Ballard, settling into a comfortable life of stability with my future husband. No more jumping through windows. No more worrying that the last time was the last time.

On April 27th, she attempted to greet me and her legs went out from under her. That was the last time she would use them. Her limbs were paralyzed, and as the hours dragged on, her mental capacity waned as well. I stayed by her side all day. In the evening as I pet her, she straightened and gave a quick shudder, I watched her pupils consume the entirety of her gold irises, and she was gone. I wonder what it was she saw in those last moments as her eyes pooled into black; I hope all she felt was love.

Juniper and I grew up together. She was my peer, my constant companion, my best friend, my claw-wielding, fang-boasting, water-spilling, sneak-attacking, plant-eating, garbage-scrounging, book-peeing, sleep-ruining scourge, for all of my adult life. I truly don’t know who I am without her.

Thank you, dear Kee, for everything. And thank you for allowing me to be witness to your last time.

Yaki-Udon For June

Prep time: 10 minutes
Cook time: 15 minutes
Yield: 2 servings

Did someone say bonito flakes? Oh, I’m sorry, it was more like, “meow meow meow meow meow meow”. Yes she put her paw in my noodles. Yes I ate them anyway.

A simple stir-fry barely warrants an official recipe - it’s more a series of questions. What meat/vegetables/noodle type have you got to use? (Yes you can use them all.) Is there a good balance of salt, sweet, acidity, and umami? (Add more soy sauce/tamari, sugar/mirin, citrus/rice vinegar, fish sauce/shiitakes accordingly.) Is there such a thing as too much furikake? (No. Never.) What do you get? A quick meal that uses all the scraps in your crisper and beckons all the cats in your neighborhood. Win-win.

1 tablespoon coconut oil or other high-heat oil
1/2 yellow onion, thinly sliced
1 carrot, diced
1/2 cup shredded green cabbage
3 shiitake mushrooms, sliced
2 scallions, thinly sliced
1 garlic clove, minced
1/2 teaspoon grated ginger
2 servings fresh, frozen, or dried udon noodles, cooked
3 tablespoons kaeshi (recipe follows)
1 tablespoon rice vinegar

optional toppings:
bonito flakes
furikake
seaweed
pickled ginger
cat hair

In a large frying pan or wok, heat coconut oil over medium high heat. Add the onion and cook until soft and translucent. Add carrot and cabbage, and cook an additional 2-3 minutes (refrain from stirring too much - the more patient you are, the more seared your vegetables will get). Add shiitake mushrooms, cook an additional minute. Add garlic and ginger, stir, and cook for 30 seconds. Add udon noodles and, using tongs, thoroughly combine all ingredients. Finally, add kaeshi and rice vinegar and toss to coat. Serve immediately with a variety of toppings. Enjoy it hot before the cat gets to it.

Kaeshi

Kaeshi is the salty-sweet Japanese building block to noodle soups, dipping sauces, and stir-fry. The worst thing about kaeshi is that it’s another recipe in this recipe. The best thing about kaeshi is that it lasts forever, can be used in a variety of recipes, and is incredibly simple to prepare.

1/2 cup mirin
1/3 cup white sugar
2 cups soy sauce
2 teaspoons kosher salt

Bring mirin to a simmer and cook 3 - 5 minutes. Stir in the sugar and dissolve. Add soy and salt and heat until it almost comes to a boil. Remove from heat, cool, and store in the fridge for up to a year.