Warning Friends: This post is about a lot more than pets.
“There have been times when I wanted children and other times I’ve been grateful not to have them. I am a mess if I have to say goodbye to my dog for longer than five days. I don’t know how I would deal with kissing my children as I left for work. I know there are women who are able to do that. I don’t know if I could.”
—Anjelica Huston, Cinema.com, November 2011
Last night as I was waiting for the 3 train I saw the cutest little yorkie accompanying the toughest looking dude. And big, strong, tattoo-sleeved dude had that lil furry thang in a BabyBjorn-style front pack, cooing sweet nothings and giving the pup kisses (whose name I learned later when we were sitting next to each other, was Spike. Of course it was).
Once we hit downtown, an equally adorable little boy named Timmy (name = truth) got on with his Mommy. Around four years old, this kid could not have been cuter if he was programmed by the most genius AI. All brown curls and wide sparkly eyes, we motley crew of jaded New Yorkers all watched in delight from our orange and yellow front row seats as Timmy and Spike became fast friends. Both treating each other gently, they would each turn their heads to check in with their respective parent (species be damned) to make sure all was still safe and permitted.
I started to tear up a bit. How fun it must be to see the world through Timmy’s eyes. How fortunate his family is. Dammit, we tried so hard to have a child. Almost six years of effort, money, loss, grief, heartache. I started to feel sorry for myself. For Jeremy. For all four of our folks. At the first stop in Brooklyn, Timmy got off the train in his stroller. Everyone waved goodbye, Spike’s ears twitched, and as the doors closed on the train, we all could hear Timmy wailing. Screaming. I guess he didn’t want to leave Spike. And boy, was he letting that be known. For all of downtown Brooklyn to hear.
I was better now.
And I remembered I have my own Spike at home, and a bag of treats I just purchased for his indulgence. I’m not talking about Jeremy, human husband. ‘My Spike’ is a tuxedo cat and his name is Marvin. You get my drift.
What pet parents actually know but are loathe to admit:
We see them getting older, though we perpetually call them ‘baby.’
We see that they stay the same size.
We clock that they look nothing like us.
It’s obvious that they are covered in hair (or scales or feathers or lizard skin or whatever).
We know they aren’t our children. Intellectually, at least….
The fact is, it’s just delightful to baby something, to care for it, to feed it, to mush it and kiss it.
Our Nishi cat passed away last year, but she was one of the most sensitive creatures I have ever met. If you had a bad day, accompanied by a good cry, it would wake her up. The girl would hop down off of her ottoman (yes it was hers and hers alone) and stroll, head down, focused, right to your feet. It’s not exactly like she wanted to give you love (she was a cat, after all), but more like she knew that her wanting pets and kisses would be distracting enough to shift your mood from tears to gratitude.
Now Marvin has become the biggest love bug in Nishi’s absence. He needs to sit and sleep between us always. Each morning I’m practically lying on the floor because Jeremy takes up half the bed, and Marvin, who curls up practically in our arms, basically takes up the other half. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
I know there are people out there who are not cat people. Some might say they are pretty much anti-cat. I grew up with a dog, Becky, who was the sweetest little girl. I understood dogs. I got the codependency, the heightened emotion of every greeting and every goodbye, the ‘good girls’ at every successful trip outside. Dogs like to be mushed, leaned on, massaged, hugged, kissed…they will lap it all up. I was never myself ‘anti-cat,’ but they have a learning curve when it comes to loving them. Cats - are you kidding me? There’s a spot in Marvin’s side that if I touch it I think my face would be gone in two seconds. He doesn’t mean it - it’s his biology, it’s baked in. But when he backs up to me in bed - yes he backs that tushy up - my heart melts. I never tire from wanting to smush him, to pet his fur this way and that. But I like my face.
Living child free can be lonely at times, quiet. It can be painful to pass a busy playground. Knowing I have a little fur baby to come home to makes it a bit easier. I don’t make fun of people who dress up their pets and coo at them. Especially if those people do not have children. I don’t dress up Marvin, but I do baby talk to him. Who knows what he thinks about it? But that’s not the point - it makes me feel good.
The one thing I do that may be pretty weird to people is that I refer to myself and to Jeremy as ‘Mommy’ and ‘Daddy’ when talking to Marvin. Jeremy doesn’t really participate in taking our relationships to that level in regards to the cat. And that’s cool. In the middle of the night when Marvin reaches across to him and places his (clawed) paw on Jeremy’s arm, he pets him with so much love. I know Jeremy feels like his protector. Marvin came to Jeremy’s back door (‘PS’ - ‘Pre-Stacey’) when he was about 8 months old - he must have sensed a cat person in there. And Jeremy took him in. That was around 16 years ago. And he is still our baby.
Love to you all! Stacey
Stuff totally unrelated to pets that I’m loving this week:
Have you seen any of this? Joni Mitchell receiving the Gershwin Prize? She is amazing here…and has worked so hard to overcome several health issues in the past few years. If you need some serious inspiration, check it out.
I think Paul Rudnick is one of our funniest humans. Enjoy a good laugh!
I love your baby Marvin even more after reading this.
Just like the humans who end up meaning most to us, certain animals will unapologetically steal a piece of our hearts with their unbreakable feline stares or winsome doggy demeanors! Even allergic people like me, who are well-practiced at not letting ourselves get too attached to our friends' fur babies, for fear of streaming eyes and noses, yes . . . But also for the inevitable tugs on our all-too-tender heartstrings. It's a gamble any time we take a chance on loving our "babies", flesh or fur, when we know loosing that being will inevitably shatter us.
Love you.