Gilly Girl

I cheated a bit with this one.  I don’t usually search for a particular glass to make a drink in, I just let the glassware find me.  But recently my beloved cat Gilly passed away and I’ve been trying to figure out how to process my grief. I felt like I still had so much love for Gilly and no where to put it so I figured maybe making an original cocktail inspired by her would be a nice way to use up that weird, heavy energy.  I started looking for cat glassware that reminded me of her and I found this one on Etsy.  Even though it was pricier than I normally spend on this hobby I knew I had to have it.  Somehow this little gold cat made of wood just gave off Gilly energy and it felt like the perfect place to start for a drink to honor my best furry gal.  

My relationship with Gilly was different from any other cat.  The two of us both knew damn well that she could survive without me, yet she chose to stay in my backyard anyway.  She appreciated my company and the fact that respected her boundaries.  Gilly wasn’t my cat.  She was her own cat.  

I originally befriended Gilly’s mother, Harvey.  Harvey was the sassiest, most confident cat I’ve ever met. She hung out in my backyard and we had an understanding- I would give her food and she would allow me to be in her presence…nothing more.  Soon she had a litter of four kittens that she carried to my backyard including Rocky, my official cat, and Gilly, the runt of the litter.  When I scooped up all 5 to get them spayed and neutered both Gilly and Harvey made it very clear they did not want to be inside cats.  There was hissing, scratching and an overwhelming sense of disapproval.  So I returned the two to the backyard where they would again continue to allow me to feed them and look at them.  

Harvey taught Gilly everything; hunting, how to trick humans into giving you what you want, and all the secrets to being a badass sassy cat.  After a year or so, Gilly’s mom decided to move to a different backyard (she did visit a few times afterward) but Gilly remained.  She bathed in the sun on my grass, she chased birds and squirrels and kept the mice coming into my house to a minimum.  We bought her her own heated house and toys and she enjoyed her freedom.  One winter, during a snowstorm, we put her dinner bowl down in the kitchen and left the door open just to see what would happen.  After some reluctance Gilly wandered in, ate her food, warmed up for a few moments and then left.  Every meal after that we gave her the option to eat inside and gradually she came in for longer and longer.  Eventually she started sleeping over in our basement and sitting in the living room while we watched TV.  She also knew that one meow at the backdoor got her back out to her adventures.  Occasionally she would even let us pet her, though mostly when she was eating and on winter mornings right when she came in she’d allow me to pet her so I could “check the temperature outside”.  

She was a big foodie.  She was always interested in what food we were making or eating and would patiently sit under us while we ate, which paid off frequently under my spot. She was also a potato chip fiend; if we had a bag on the couch she would practically jump into it.  If you wanted to get Gilly close to you she was one wrinkle of the chip bag away.  

Recently the house next to us sold to a flipper and I became concerned about Gilly getting scooped up by a new stranger who didn’t realize she had a yard to call home. So I made an appointment to get her microchipped; officially declaring our home to be her home.  Two days before the appointment she died unexpectedly.  I know it’s silly but part of me thinks that this was the universe showing me that I could never truly own her and this was punishment for even attempting to do so. Catholic guilt is a wild thing.  I’m sure it was just unlucky timing…but still.  In Gilly’s last moments we fed her some chips from the emergency vet’s vending machine and a salmon Delectable and, even though she wasn’t a big fan, we showered her in kisses and pets.  She was one tough kitty, even in her last moments.  And despite the fact that she was never truly my cat, her passing has left a huge void in my heart. 

.

Now I guess I’ll get into the cocktail portion of our program since that’s why you’re here.  The evening Gilly died I ended up having a nightcap of Fernet Branca.  It seemed like the appropriate bitter drink for my rough night.  So when I bought this glass I figured I’d start with that.  I also wanted to try to work in a bit of the chip flavor that Gilly loved so much.  I frequently have salt and vinegar chips so I figured the drink should contain a shrub.  And since I have a blackberry bush in my backyard where Gilly called home, it seemed appropriate to make a blackberry shrub.  I then added a little whiskey- her favorite human man, my husband Brian's drink of choice- and some cabernet- the drink I usually enjoyed with her while the two of us watched murder shows late at night.  And just to make it a true Gilly drink, I rimmed half the glass with her favorite snack, chippies. Gilly may have disagreed, but rimming the whole glass was a little too much.  I finished it all off with a garnish of a feather I found in the backyard the day after she passed from one of her previous bird murders (or as I liked to call them bird-ers). She was always so proud when she caught something and I think she’d be honored to know I actually used a feather she brought to the house for me. (I did clean it off in case you were worried).  This drink is a comforting little number and I think it’s good enough to be named after such a unique and memorable cat.