July 28, 2022
Growing up as a country kid, we always had dogs and cats. I loved my four-legged friends, especially my cat, who was a much-needed comfort in my world of trauma. He made my worst days a little lighter. I found it nearly impossible to imagine how some kids did not have a cat or a dog. Who did they talk to late at night? Who greeted them at the door when they got home from school? And did they cry all alone in bed? Perhaps that’s what teddy bears are for. I just felt lucky to have a living soft, fluffy, snuggle buddy named Puss in Boots.
He was a handsome, short haired, black and white fellow. Puss followed me around everywhere and trusted me to shower him with love, and I did. He curled up on my bed every night and I could feel his warmth on my feet or back. I could not sleep until I knew he was there. When Dad left for the week, we both slept in my mom’s bed. I loved being snuggled by Mom on one side and Puss on the other. She didn’t mind him being there, even though he was a little scruffy and had fleas. I knew he had these little critters crawling through his fur, because they could easily be spotted against his white coat, but to be sure, I tested him with the flea test. I found a large piece of white paper for him to stand on. I then used a comb and while combing his fur, black particles would fall onto the paper. These were the flea eggs. I carefully splattered droplets of water on them, and if they turned red, it was a sure sign of flea infestation. Perhaps I should’ve been a little disgusted by this, but he was my baby, so it didn’t bother me. I was, however, pretty excited that my science experiment worked! The only thing I knew of to treat this problem was to get a flea collar. Vet bills or trips to the pet store were never an option in our household. My dad had no use for domesticated animals. On one of our grocery shopping days, I slipped a flea collar into the shopping cart. Dad didn’t pay much attention to what was being spent at the grocery store, so I was able to get it for Puss. I don’t recall how helpful it was, but it must’ve at least kept the crawlers away from his head.
Puss in Boots was a country cat, and I was a country girl. Our dream was to live and die in our freedom, old and happy. He would go to Heaven before me and I would marry prince charming, have children and live out our dreams in my childhood home. My kids would experience the love of a pet, fresh breezy air, the joy of snowy hills and the safety of nature from mankind. I could not foresee growing into adulthood any other way. Then it happened.
The news was harsh, cruel, and shattered my world. Moving day was near. The decision was made without me and from I what I understood, my parents were evil. We simply had to move, just in case, Dad died. Mom couldn’t live alone in the country, so we had to find a city home. I knew he wasn’t in tip top shape, but he was nowhere near his death bed. This would completely interrupt my schooling, as I’d just started grade eight. Everything in my life was being ripped to shreds and I was powerless. How would Puss in Boots like the city? He wasn’t a city mouser and keeping him indoors would be a challenge.
It was a tough transition, which really sounds like an understatement. We moved from peace and freedom, to the rat race of city living. I hated every second of it and a deep seeded resentment grew. It was a fight to bring Puss with us. Dad didn’t want to bother bringing him, but he eventually became a city cat. I started grade eight at my new school. Again, the love and comfort of my furry companion, seemed to make the transition bearable.
One day after school, I came home to another life altering shock. The following paragraph comes from my book, “Box of Shame: A Memoir of Addiction, Survival, and Forgiveness.”
“The truck sat in the driveway, so I knew Dad was home. The lawn was mowed. No one was outside, and there was nothing unusual about that day. I walked ahead of Mom, along the side of the house, and turned the corner to walk up the four cement steps to the door, as I’d been doing for a few weeks now – Puss was there.”
Yes, he was there. City life was not what we expected. What did I witness on the stairs? What was Puss doing? The answer is in my book in the chapter called, Puss in Boots. This may be a tough read for some, but the purpose of my memoir is to give hope. We can survive and flourish after trauma. Puss gave me love and strength. My heart still holds a place for him after many decades. I had three private escapes from life’s stressors: 1) my diary, 2) my art and 3) Puss and other pets. Today, I have you. I pour my heart into my blogs, and it still gives me release, and satisfaction. And my other two escapes? Well, they haven’t really changed much. I turn to my dogs and continue to create artistically.
Did you have a special childhood bond with a pet? I’d love to hear about it!
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