During the winter of ~2002, I journeyed to the Harlem Pound to bring home a kitty. An unseasonably cold winter paired with an unreasonably high number of strays resulted in a 2-for-1 deal, adopt one kitty and get a second ‘for free.’ I brought home a baby Doozer that day and was convinced at the time that I didn’t want a second cat - didn’t need a second cat - and waited ‘til early Spring to head back up to pick out #2. I told myself that Doozer needed a cat and that this next one was his…

Can you believe that’s what I called Walter for the first few weeks of our time together? Number Two. It shouldn’t surprise us that, in response to that absurd and unjust miscalculation that Walter graced my floor - for 20 years - with a bowel movement right outside the box reminding me of who was always Number One. I’m realizing now that it wasn’t spite or malice that caused Walter to color outside the lines, it was part of what would be two decades of deep training, an initiation into unconditional love, devotion, and service.

Walter Sobchak, named by his beloved Aunt Mia, cast a spell on me that spring day in the Pound. He was already a big boy cat, matted with oil, sneezing blood and next in line for the needle. Found somewhere on the Upper East Side, he simply sat in the front of his cage, watching me walk pass him, following me with his gaze. He was a dignified King, even sick in a cage in Harlem, and he was destined for more.

I was looking for a kitten that day and I found a cat, a king, a teacher, a life partner, a friend, a guide and my guardian angel.

Our Journey

Walter dwelled with me on 18th Street, 14th Street, and Orchard Street before taking flight with me to Europe. During those years in Manhattan he watched me get married and divorced, graduate from college, emerge as a rock photographer and start to bloom as a corporate ladybot. The last year of our life in Chinatown I had lined the apartment with a calendar counting down the days until we left the continent with a one-way ticket. I will never forget our first flight as a family - Walter and Doozer packed as cargo - on a Lufthansa flight from NYC to Munich and then an Austrian Air propeller plane into Innsbruck. Waiting nervously at the baggage claim counter in Innsbruck, assuming the worst, I was relieved to hear Walter before I could see him. He and Doozer were on the baggage belt, circling with the suitcases, alive, confused and crusted in cat food and litter from their 24 hour journey…

In Austria he looked out over the Swarovski factory from our apartment in Wattens before moving into Innsbruck’s Old Town where he synchronized frühstück with the church bells across the street. Both my boys made fast friends in Austria enjoyed 4 years in the Tyrolean Alps before life called us East to Hong Kong.

Importing live animals to Hong Kong was not a small task. My fancy company hired me fancy agents in Germany and Hong Kong to support the process and a vet by the name of Fabio Ferrari issued the boys their very own EU Passports. I drugged the cats before leaving Munich but no drugs could prepare them for the 30+ hour journey they would have east to the South China Sea. I drugged myself with some high quality whiskey once I received confirmation that my precious cargo was aboard and off we went into the unknown, again with a one way ticket.

My Cantonese agent picked me up from Lantau Airport and drove me to a massive cargo warehouse a few miles from the Airport. Imagine a 20 story parking garage made for 18 wheelers and that’s close to the scale of this place. Somewhere on the 7th floor, in a sea of forklifts and shipping containers, there was a singular green door labeled “Animal Control.”

An exhausted, sweaty, anxious and awkward 40 minutes passed before I could see Walter and Doozer’s crate emerging from the 8 lane highway of forklifts and chaos. Again, I could hear sweet Walter before I could see him. They were alive. Again, encrusted in litter and cat food and confusion but alive. Before we could touch noses, the crate was slide into the back office and I stood on one side of a thick glass wall and watched the agents start to look through their paperwork. Another 40 minutes elapsed - my anxiety growing exponentially that they were going to quarantine my babies - before I was invited back into the exam room with them.

The moment the door of the crate opened, Walter was on the table, then on the counter then above the counters and then gone… Fucking gone. Everyone just looked at each other with no idea what to do. I jumped up onto the counter to see if I could feel Walter and, in that moment, imagined what the air shaft might look like on the colossus that we were standing in and feared that Walter was a goner. Forty five more minutes passed with the Cantonese guys getting more flustered and me trying to avert a full on panic. The cat disappeared into a cargo terminal in one of the busiest ports on the Planet Earth. Just before the hour mark, the agents returned with a sledge hammer and, I guess, they planned to break the wall to try and retrieve the cat (or just crush him and call it). Just before the hammer hit the wall I stopped them and in one last wild and desperate move, I started to pat the bottom of the wall all the way up calling Walter to follow my sound. Banging the wall like a drum, all the way up, I reached in over the top and, by an eyebrow hair, managed to pull Walter out of the hole and back into my arms. They promptly microchipped him - his 3rd chip at this point - and sent us off to find our new apartment, our new job and our new life in Asia. A lot more could be said about this experience but I’ll save that for those who ask.

A half hour more in a minivan winding our way into Sai Ying Pun on the central island of Hong Kong brought us to our 6th nest together, the 21st floor of the CHI, an apartment hotel for ex-Pats overlooking Victoria Harbor and the vast expanse of the South China Sea beyond. The elevator opened to our flat and wouldn’t you know that a fresh litter box, bowl of cat food and fresh water were waiting for us upon arrival!

The amount of life lived, lessons learned, love lost, knowledge gained, friends made and adventure in our 6 years abroad is hard to quantify. It forged me. It was as though I had the two least judgmental and loving chaperones to oversee my life away. Months would go by without anybody knowing where I was, what I was doing or if I was alive. Walter and Doozer always knew. They were always waiting for me and curious to hear about my adventures…wherever they were was ‘home.’

Two years passed before it was time to complete the circle and repatriate to New York. At this point we were all seasoned travelers but this last leg (Hong Kong > Munich > New York) would be the longest haul of them all. From the moment they were crated to the moment they were uncrated, 40 hours passed. My intrepid travelers and I went straight to our new apartment in Brooklyn Heights where we nested happily for 2 more years before being called to move yet again.

This time to Vermont starting with Dreaming Mountain then Hyde Park followed by a brief stint in East Albany before finally landing at our home of homes on Beach Hill in West Glover.

11 nests. 3 continents. 21 years.

By the time I trucked the kittens to the log cabin I promised both of them that this would be our ‘forever home.’ It was for both of them. Walter got to live out his last 5 years on Earth as a free man. No more relying on me to “let” him do anything. He mastered the cat door the moment it was installed and made this house and hill his own. He grew old on cat nip from the garden, morning brushings, rotisserie chicken by the fire, and deep love and respect from the people he touched. He grew old with grace and humor and dignity. Working from home for the last 2 years provided both of us with deep time together and, for that, I will always be grateful. I didn’t take a moment for granted.

My Beloved Teacher

Today is my 16th day without Walter. Everyday is filled with firsts… The first this without Walter. The first that. Perhaps a cycle of grief is complete when you run out of firsts? The first trip I take returning to a cabin without Walter. The first rotisserie chicken that we don’t share with him. The first Transformation Fire without Walter. There’s still plenty to come.

Walter, Brian and I were the alchemical seeds that gave birth to Rootstock. It took all three of us to bring this vision to life and, only since he’s been gone has it been clear to me what a crucial part of this becoming he was. Over 100 humans have journeyed with me on this hill since I began holding therapeutic space here in 2018 and Walter was there for all of them. He guided me. I guided you. His ancient, knowing presence grounded me and his lack of judgement was necessary to help me grow into the big work I do now. He was a master and a generous teacher and he lived out his life in service, just as I hope to do.

Walter Sobchak

aka King Billy

aka Brown Frown

aka Sobes

aka Sobe Town

aka Birdie

aka The Boy

aka Little Brother

aka The King of my Queendom

aka Chicken Little

aka my soul mate, best friend and dearly beloved

gave me over 20 years of his love and it was time to let him go. He died in the in the loving hands of Brian and I and we will miss him everyday forever.

Thank you for the love, dear boy. Thank you for everything.

Click the album below to see some of our greatest hits and most precious moments together.

If Walter touched you during his long and sweet life, leave your story in the comments below and share please….