It is time for me to make a confession: I’ve never really liked pets.
This probably has a lot to do with the fact that I grew up in a house where I didn’t have any pets bigger than a beta fish - and to be honest, the beta fish and the snail were my siblings’, not mine. I had no interest. I wanted a pet when I was in grade two or three, in that abstract way when you realize you’re a bit different. It can be weird to not have a pet. I didn’t have one, so should I? We never got a real pet. My mom also grew up in a house with no pets. My dad did, and may have wanted a dog again, once, but after he left his parents’ house as an adult, he never had a pet again. In his retirement years, he has said he doesn’t plan to get a dog again; devastated when my sibling’s dog Izzy died, both of my parents doubled down on their petless lives.
So I did not have a pet. I don’t really know much about them or how to take care of them, and I never had a real hankering for animals. I didn’t go through an animal phase, wild about pictures of baby animals.
I haven’t had a pet for most of my life, but that doesn’t mean some pets haven’t had me.
My partner’s family dog, Oreo, a clever little terry-poo, was the first to take me on. In fact, he decided I was part of the family before everyone else did. He made the call on me being a fixture in his life, and so I was, walking him, sneaking him chicken from the kitchen table at supper, holding his chewie and playing with him. In the later years of his life, I could open the door of my in-laws’ house, he would trot to the top of the steps, see it was me, and disappear for a toy. I was there for him, and I was one of his humans.
I knew he was fully decided on this when he stopped barking when I came over. One afternoon, I arrived and opened the door. He didn’t make a sound, just happily followed me into the living room. My mother-in-law appeared a few minutes later, and said “Oh! You’re here! I didn’t hear Oreo.”
He never announced me again, because I was supposed to be there. When his heart gave out some years later, I cried in my office over the text with the news.
My sibling adopted a mutt named Izzy several years ago. They didn’t have her for very long, just a few years. She was a senior dog when they got her, and we suspected she’d been abused. She didn’t like tall people, most men, people hugging around her, and while she adored babies, she was scared of children because she didn’t know what they would do. My sibling worked with her so that she felt safe and loved, and they didn’t put her in any situations where her anxiety would cause a problem.
She loved being outside and was eager to go with whoever was willing to walk her. She was a strong barrel of a dog, but she never pulled me down the street when I did take her out. She thought my brother was useless (in this area, yes, he would agree), but I was okay, because I was willing to take her for a walk. She liked to sit by my mom, while my mom did her online banking on the computer. She followed my dad around, as he was her number two human. She worshipped my sibling.
She died of uterine cancer, and she had a very happy home for the final years of her life.
When my partner said in September that he wanted to adopt one of the cats that his friend was fostering - well, okay, I thought. I was at that point well into my job hunt and it wasn’t going that well (though it was summer, as I reminded myself at least once an hour, and no one in the kinds of places I was looking hires in the summer, and I was being fixed on location and could I get through the rest of this day without spiralling about how I stranded myself here). He could get a cat, it would only affect me a little bit. My partner adores cats, and has wanted one for years: finally, he was in a cat-friendly apartment, and it seemed like time.
I did, however, gently suggest that he stick with one cat instead of getting two when he said he wanted two of the sisters.
I was mildly interested in this plan, because it would minutely affect me, though I wasn’t really that excited about it. A cat? Sure. I guess. If you must. I don’t really see myself doing that, but fill your boots. He anxiously awaited the day when he could adopt her. He picked out a name: Toasted Marshmallow (we call her Mallow). He talked about the things he would need. He cat-proofed his apartment.
I had some vacation which fell around this time, and coincided with Mallow’s first week home. There were lots of things I thought I would do during this vacation. I spent most of it cuddling with a fuzzy little kitten. And when we parted after this week? I cried.
My dear friends, I was shocked. And while the addition of Mallow to our lives wasn’t a factor in me continuing my job hunt, it was added impetus. The day before Mallow came home, I set up an interview with my now-employer. 6 weeks of Mallow later, I had a new job, in Halifax, so I could live with my partner…and Mallow.
So I guess I have a cat now. She follows me into the bathroom, she comes to see me at the door when I come home. She likes to play on my yoga mat when I do yoga, and she sits on the tub between the shower curtain and the liner when I take a shower. She loves my partner the most, but I am a very acceptable number two in her life. She’s begun a game of sitting on the top of a particular bookshelf, watching to see if I’m watching her, and then she’ll stare at me while she goes to bite the Lego set that sits there, knowing I will come scoop her off the shelf, because she wants me to pick her up and carry her like a baby. She is the first pet I’ve ever really lived with and so far it’s delightful, even when she sits on my computer while I’m trying to type a post.
And considering I thought, unprompted, yesterday afternoon in my office, I miss my cat, it’s official: I’m now a pet person. Or at least, this specific pet.
Those dogs are awesome, but M A L L O W 😍
What a wonderful addition to the family with Mallow. So happy for you to have a cat who adores you. We love our Buddy too and he has settled in to our home and animals are so loving. Enjoy!