Welcome, and an introduction to pets

Welcome to my blog.  This is a new endeavour for me, and I hope you’ll stick with me.  I’m Canadian, so if you notice that some words are spelled a little differently than you’re accustomed to, that’s probably why.  I’ve found that there are lessons all around me – some of which I’ve enjoyed learning, and some less so.  I look forward to sharing these with you through stories – a favourite medium of mine.

I’m no longer anyone’s definition of young (unless you’re 80, in which case I might qualify), and I now have plenty of pets.  I’ve had plenty more, and have loved each and every one.

But when I was young, I always wanted pets.  Desperately.  A dog, or a cat.  Something I could love and interact with, that would love me back.  Unfortunately pets were not a happening thing in my world.  My mother wasn’t overly comfortable with animals, and my father – who grew up on a farm – had a clear picture that they belonged outside.

Cue some less-interactive pets:  a rabbit that lived in a hutch under our bay window, a couple of hamsters.  I did let out some of my nurturing on these creatures, with some success.  Over time, I became that child who, when we visited another family, was able to get that hamster or gerbil to come to me and actually be handled, when it wasn’t otherwise.  It wasn’t exactly the same as a pet that could snuggle in the bed with me, though.

When I first moved out, you would think I’d jump on the idea of getting a cat or dog, but even I knew that working 10-12 hour days, 6 days a week, wasn’t the best thing for an animal.  I stuck with the hamster initially.  By the time I got married and had a small house a few years later, though, the progression of more hands-on pets had begun.  I got a matching kitten and puppy who grew up together, loved me back, and did well with my newborn son.  It broke my heart to find new homes for them when we had to move a couple of years later, but they went to loving new homes, and by the time two more babies followed, I realized that my time to love and snuggle pets would have been limited anyways – small children are a little bit time-consuming.

Fast-forward some years through a variety of other joys and tribulations of which you’ll undoubtedly hear later, to school-aged children, and friends with farms.  One day, my daughter came home with the joyful news that “Sam’s cats have kittens!”  and the inevitable question, “can we have some?”.  Sam’s family’s farm wasn’t far away, and we took a box and went to see kittens that evening.

Tiny kittens tumbled in the hay in an empty stall in the barn.  Other barn cats wandered in and out, and the fluffy white mama sat watchfully.  (Insert:  I’ve never understood how white cats stay clean in a barn – and yet, they did.)  We selected a tiny white boy and a gray fluffy girl, and I marveled at how small the two were in my hand – I could hold them both in one hand with room to spare.  As they hadn’t yet seen a vet or had any shots, they spent the mild fall night in the closed garage, and I was presented with a tiny dead mouse the next morning when I went to check on them. 

The local veterinarian reported that both kittens seemed healthy, gave them preliminary shots, and they went home to integrate into our busy family.  I was fortunate to have a flexible schedule at the time, and used the same strategies that had tamed “unhandleable” hamsters of my childhood on these skittish kittens.  I spent long periods just sitting in “their” room – reading, or resting – and they came of their own volition just as those long-ago hamsters. 

It’s the best training I’ve even given an animal before or since, and while we lost that silly and gentle white boy nearly ten years ago, his fluffy gray sister is still with us at seventeen years old.  She’s now toothless, and seems to suffer from a bit of dementia, wondering where she is, randomly crying out for things unknown, and staring blankly at her food dish until I put a bit on her nose to reminder her what this is.  She also remains incredibly pliable – while she’s not impressed with rude things like cutting her nails, her rebellion consists of flattened ears and dirty looks.  In seventeen years, she has never even tried to scratch or bite for any reason.  Other cats have come and gone, and several more are still with me, but she holds a special place after all we’ve been through together.   Someday, it will break my heart to lose her, but I hope that day isn’t for a while yet. 

I hope I can grow old as she has.  Comfortable and complacent, yet unafraid to make noise about what I want until it comes to me.  Too many times in life, I’ve permitted someone else’s intentions, thoughts or preferences to rule my own.  Sometimes that’s ok – after all, we all have to live in this world together, and things won’t always be exactly to MY liking (what’s with that, anyways?).  But it’s a problem when I let myself be pushed aside, or knuckle under, on an issue that’s important to me.  If it matters to me, I need to make sure I speak up.  You might hear more from me on this theme – it’s a lesson that’s been building for a while now.

Hey – don’t go yet!  Comment below, so I can hear what you have to say, too.