Thirty-Five Acres of Love
By
Paula De Marta Mastroianni

The receptionist's voice came sailing out of my office intercom

"Paula, you have a call on ten!"

Little did I know that this was the call that would give me a lifetime ticket to my own little heaven on Earth.

I picked up the designated line, and said "Hello?"

An impish voice gleefully said, "If you could only see what I am looking at right now, you would want to JUMP right into the picture!"

My cat-like curiosity (!) was immediately aroused as I eagerly asked my friend for a description of what he was talking about.

"It's a living room in a rural setting--there are trees outside the tall windows which overlooks a wooden deck--and there are cats everywhere you look in the room!"

I asked him to please mail it to me, but he never did. Men (as my eyes roll toward the ceiling) However, God does work in mysterious ways, and serendipity intervened, because one day several years after that fateful phone call, I was sitting in a doctor's office waiting to be called, flipping through some old magazines. Suddenly --to my utter amazement and delight--there was THE picture I had so much wanted to see! Actually, it was a two-page spread in (if I recall correctly) LIFE magazine and exactly as my friend had described it: cats, cats, cats lying on the sofa, perched high atop bookcases, lounging on desks, stools, armchairs, just beautiful cats EVERYWHERE! I felt myself smiling, almost laughing out loud, wishing I could be right there in the middle of them all. My friend was correct--I would have gladly jumped into that photograph, and stayed there for the rest of my natural life! Surreptitiously, I tore the pages out of the magazine and slipped this glorious scene into my pocket. I considered it a gift from the universe delivered straight to me, and I wasn't about to let it stay in a doctor's office, unappreciated or otherwise.

When I read the brief article that accompanied it, automatically assuming it was a place somewhere far, far away and impossible to visit, I realized that this utterly fairy-tale place--The Last Post--was in CONNECTICUT! "Wow!" I said to myself, "I can drive there in no time!" I immediately sent a letter to the Executive Director, Ms. Jeanne Toomey, who graciously responded with a warm welcome to "come visit anytime," and enclosed driving directions with her kind note.

Since my mother's 75th birthday happened to be the last weekend of the summer of 1992, I decided to incorporate a trip to The Last Post as part of her weekend-long birthday celebration. My late mother, Faye loved animals dearly, as her own father did (my grandfather, Marcellino.) And that trait, to my immense gratitude, was the strongest one passed on to my own genetic make-up. As a child, I instinctively followed every animal I encountered--down alley ways, in cars, walking with their owners always wandering away from my parents so I could pet and play with those delightful creatures. One of my all-time favorite family pictures is of my maternal grandparents, surrounded by just some of their eleven children, and several grandchildren. My grandfather chose not any of the little ones to sit on his lap, but his much-loved black Pomeranian, "Beauty."

I was only six years old when my grandfather passed away, but that photograph, along with family stories about his unwavering devotion to animals (along with his roguish and irreverent spirit) has kept Grandpa close to my heart my entire life. I've no doubt we would have been great pals, and co-conspirators, since my mother told me he "could never pass an animal without abruptly canceling the day's plans, and bringing the poor little creature home."

At last, the final day of my mom's birthday weekend arrived, and we were on our way to her final gift, a trip to northwestern Connecticut, and The Last Post. I was captivated by the glorious scenery along the way farms and cows (this is one city kid who still gets excited over seeing cows) dotting the numerous open meadows, quaint little villages, some centuries-old and steeped in history, riots of wildflowers growing everywhere along the sides of the road, ancient covered bridges spanning wide stretches of clear, effervescent water sparkling in the sunlight--just magnificent beauty everywhere I looked. The drive alone was soothing to soul and spirit. And the best was yet to come!

Finally, after passing through the adorable town of Falls Village and finding our way to the road that would lead us to our destination, we spotted the white sign with the black cat, the special marker on the highway that indicated The Last Post. As we slowly drove down the narrow, twisting dirt road, surrounded by thick woods, my heart was racing I could not wait to get there! I spotted "Chipmunk and Cat Crossing" signs, and was charmed. At last, a clearing appeared and there it was--the most beautiful place I could ever imagine. We parked in the designated area, unloaded the trunk (huge bags of cat food, catnip, treats for the other animals and my mother's home-made cheesecake) and walked to the front steps of the main house.

Jeanne Toomey and her devoted and lovely staff welcomed us warmly. We chatted a while in THAT special room I had seen in the magazine (I could not believe I was actually sitting in it,) petting the dogs and just basking in the peaceful ambiance of my surroundings. But I was getting antsy, and could no longer wait "Jeanne, may I see the cats?" and she directed me across the hallway, to a closed door. I had no idea what to expect, but as I gleefully opened the door and entered that large, gymnasium-like room, I literally felt like a kid let loose in Santa's workshop! At least two or three dozen cats, of every imaginable shape, size, color and breed, began to simultaneously converge on me, and I energetically tried to pick up every single one. There were some who held back, obviously frightened, shy or wary, but during the course of the day, I showed them as much affection as they would allow me to getting a couple of "battle scars" in the process! (I didn't mind I have been bitten, scratched, growled at or otherwise "whacked" by animals since I was three years old, and never, ever did it deter my unconditional love for them.) We scattered the tons of catnip we had brought, and the cats were hilarious (and delirious!) as they rolled, twisted, and turned every which way, loving their momentary escape into that mysterious catnip-induced place that is known only to cats.

Out on the deck were more fabulous felines, sunning themselves, meandering through the grassy area below, even going nose-to-nose with Georgie, one of The Last Post's resident pot-bellied pigs, and the cats' neighbor on the other side of the fence that separated them. I had a treat for Georgie, too an apple, which he took whole into his mouth before crunching and swallowing it. He was a little put off, though, since he obviously liked the doughnuts and other sweets I first gave him much better. He was a friendly little guy, and I fell in love with him straight away.

Too soon, the time came when we had to leave. Oh, how I longed to stay there for eternity, but duty called and I reluctantly had to say "so long" to this magical, enchanting sanctuary, deep in the middle of the woods.

Subsequent visits were made, of course and we met goats, sheep, bunnies, new dogs and cats, as well as renewing my friendship with Georgie, and his fellow residents, Mr. and Mrs. Hubert and Annabelle Pot-Bellied Pigs. (Jeanne had told me that Hubert loved sweets, and she walked me over to visit them in their cozy little home. I sat down on a nearby log and opened a box of doughnuts. Before Jeanne could finish her sentence, "Paula, I wouldn't do that," Hubert came charging over, knocking me off the log and right into the mud as he deliriously devoured his doughnuts!) I still laugh whenever I think of that moment. And I was wearing a white sweater!!

Shortly after leaving for home, I spotted a farm and a large cluster of cows standing quite close to the roadside fence. I stopped the car, asked my mom to wait just a moment, and ran over intending to pet them; but my exuberance caused a mini-stampede instead

I am long overdue for another visit to The Last Post something I hope to do in the very near future. I've held back, dreading the absence of my dear mother as on all previous trips, but I think she will still be with me in her own sweet and quiet way. I know that her love for animals must transcend any mystifying dimensional barriers between this life and the next.

The Last Post is truly my most cherished and favorite place on Earth. It most certainly is, with absolutely no hyperbole, "thirty-five acres of love." And I return that love with every fiber of my being, and all of my heart and soul.