So it’s been over a year since I put down my beloved Fattus Cattus, Hayward. Before the seizures on her final day, she spent most of 2008 on semi-daily doses of insulin. Not fun for her. Not fun for me. Not fun when she bit me to tell me that part of her bottom was sore.
Even after the seizure that left her blind and incoherent, my touch soothed her. I scooped her up and held her. Through the confusion, disorientation, reduced function, the vet’s final injection, she purred.
My son asked about another pet, but I wasn’t ready to consider another one. Not for a while. The last few months with Hayward were rough. No, I couldn’t tell how long a while would last.
During 2009 I told my son that he would need to be the caretaker, if we got another pet. I’d done my time and didn’t have any spare. I didn’t want to be responsible for another creature. Even our carpets suffered from Hayward’s condition. Disease isn’t a tidy experience.
My son turned thirteen in November. They don’t know jack at that age. Well, jack-plus, but the inconsistency of his performance didn’t lend itself to the sole daily care of an animal. Not one I want to be around.
But when would he? Part of the reason for having a pet was to teach him how to care for the critter. By the time he figures it out on his own, he may be gone from my home. And he’d miss much of the joy.
But cats were out. I love them. My son loves them. My husband, in spite of a feline allergy, tolerated Hayward. He was good and kind, but generally indifferent.
Dogs were an option. My son was nipped by one (entirely his fault-old dog wanted to rest, my son wouldn’t let him), and he decided the entire species was evil. My getting bitten on the calf while jogging didn’t help. But he met a few good dogs over the years and decided he might find one acceptable.
I went to a Christmas breakfast at the house of a writer friend and his wife. The house stirred with music, conversation, laughter, and children. Yet their dog cruised from room-to-room with the aplomb of a seasoned host. Checking this room, sliding into that one, stopping for a head scratching, while discreetly sniffing all who entered her abode.
Sweet, quiet, and smart.
My kind of critter. Maybe I was ready to give my heart to another after all.
