Archive

Posts Tagged ‘Personal’

About a Cat: Part 4

June 21st, 2013 No comments
Share

Admittedly, I struggled with writing this final chapter (hence the lengthy time between posts).  Saying good-bye is never easy, and saying good-bye to Si has been particularly difficult for me.  Compounding that pain, is the insecurity that accompanies outward displays of emotion toward a beloved pet.  This is why I initially hesitated to write this story.  Would anyone understand?  Or would people think I’m just some crazy cat lady?  I’m guessing it’s a bit of both.  To those of you who have followed this story, and encouraged me to keeping going – thank you.  Read part one, two, and three of this story.  

Si in here typical regal pose (Photo Credit: Jane Chartrand)

Regal Si (Photo Credit: Jane Chartrand)

Si’s final years were bittersweet, and proved to be some of the most difficult and rewarding years with my feline companion.  Old age slowly came for Si.  Unhealthy habits also began to take a toll on her body.  Si was relatively healthy for most of her life, but her love for treats and kibble meant that she gradually became quite the fat (okay, obese) cat.  Admittedly, she was lazy too.  She preferred napping and bathing to playing and climbing.  She was meticulous about grooming herself.  She’d often stop mid cat-spat to clean her paws, then continue with ‘fur’tastic defeat of any feline daring to challenge her.  I’m pretty sure she had a touch of feline OCD.  So, it became rather disconcerting when Si began to have trouble accessing those hard to reach places when bathing.  Trust me, there is nothing more undignified for a cat (except forcing her to wear doll clothes) than having to have their bum wiped because they missed a spot.  If Si wasn’t clean, she wasn’t happy.  And by now you all know what happened when Si wasn’t happy.

After consulting a vet, Si was put on an all wet food diet.  Now I don’t think there was a happier cat than Si when she started her new diet because she loved wet food.  Admittedly, we were concerned this new diet would be expensive on the pocket book.  By this time, we had three cats and feeding time was somewhat of a circus.  All the cats had to be put on the same diet. Our vet at the time was an amazing young woman who had recently graduated.  She was enthusiastic and quite sincere about any concerns we had, including financial ones.  She assured us it wouldn’t be that much of an increase in financial commitment, but that it would have enormous benefits for all our cats.  She was right. The cats actually started eating less because the wet food was much more filling and nutritious than kibble. With relative ease, Si gradually shed five of her eighteen pounds.  Hubby and I also gained a wealth of knowledge that would have a positive impact on all the cats we cared for in the future.  That was another sacrifice Si had to unintentionally make.  As the first pet, she would also be the one to teach us how to be great pet caregivers.  Si may have been a cat, but she was also a bit of guinea pig.

Sooty Si

Sooty Si

In 2007, hubby and I bought our very first home.  This would be Si’s last time moving with me.  The new house was incredibly spacious compared to the two bedroom apartment we’d been living in for several years.  There were three levels which meant that technically each of our cats could lay claim to a floor.  Of course, that never happened.  Si simply expanded her dominion.  Like any good conqueror, Si familiarized herself with the new landscape, including the wood-burning fireplace.  Being curious and daring, Si decided to climb inside to investigate.  Neither hubby nor I noticed until she emerged covered from head to tail in soot.  She was dirty, and not impressed.  If you recall, Si was not overly fond of anyone bathing her – including me.  She had been dunked into a bathtub a few times in her life, but it always unleashed ‘cat’-ankerous fury.  It took days for her fur to return to its glistening white, and Si never went into that fireplace again. Come to think of it – none of the other cats ventured into that fireplace either.  That was just like Si – leading by example.  Or more appropriately: Do as I say, not as I do.

Si lived the first few years in our very first house filled with contentment unlike any I’d seen her have before.  The sheer size of the house was a welcome respite for Si.  If either of the other cats became too bothersome, she simply retreated to the comfort of another room.  She had already claimed as her own the comfiest spots in practically every room of the house.  Yep, she was living the good life.  She had a kingdom far greater than any before, an undefeated reign over her subjects, the best food money could buy, and a backyard big enough to grow a lifetime supply of catnip.  Stability, order, and security had finally been obtained.  Life was perfectly blissful. That’s when Si began to let go.

Lounging Si

Lounging Si

It started when she no longer came upstairs to bed with us.  Instead of an ordeal involving many stairs and a tall bed, Si opted for the comfort of her own bed on the more reasonably located main floor.  That was our first sign that she was succumbing to the symptoms of arthritis.  She also began to get sick more often, and had to periodically take medication for various ailments.  The vets suspected that she was in the first stages of kidney failure.  We often found ourselves having to clean up after accidents because stairs were becoming a difficult task, leading Si to periodically fail to make it down to the basement litter box in time.  Each accident would inflict incredible indignation on Si.  It is, after all, most undignified for royalty to be caught by her subjects in such an embarrassing happenstance.  Eventually, we accommodated her needs by ensuring she didn’t have to make the trek if she didn’t feel up to it.

It wasn’t easy and at times I found myself questioning why I was keeping her alive, but she seemed happy.  She still came for her treats every night and ate well.  Her eyes were bright and her fur glistening, so I figured if she was going to put up with the pain of arthritis and still be happy – then I’d put up with the occasional accident and cost of medication.  I did, after all, commit to her ‘for-life’.  I also figured I’d know when it was time and it didn’t feel right just giving up on her.  I’m not going to lie –  those last years were tough.  There were many burdens – emotionally and financially, but there were also many rewards.

We knew something was seriously wrong when Si began to walk away from treats offered to her.  I had never, in over seventeen years, seen that cat reject a treat.  From there, Si quickly deteriorated.  She’d often sit and wait to be carried up or down stairs.  Within a few short weeks, Si stopped leaving the basement.  Then one morning we noticed Si in a state of distress, panting and urinating blood.  Normally, this would result in an emergency trip to the vet, but we had been through this several times before.  Si’s kidneys were slowly shutting down.  One day they would just stop working, but with each ‘scare’ we couldn’t help but wonder if it was time.  We called our vet and requested a house call, and then prepared to say good-bye.  This time was different.  It felt ominous.

Si ended up being with us for almost two weeks after that house call. She hadn’t quite been ready to go.  So, Si came home and was lavished with adoration fitting of royalty. In that time, Si was made as comfortable as possible to live out her life (whether that be mere days, weeks, or months was anyone’s guess).  Si bounced back like a champ and was her normal treat-devouring self for several days.  Kali spent time simply lying at a comfortable distance next to Si.  Hubby and I also spent much time on the floor with Si peacefully purring on one of our laps.  Then one day, Si just stopped getting up.  When she tried, she would simply stumble and fall.

We took Si to the vet who remarked on her incredibly low blood pressure, particularly for a cat in an unfamiliar vet clinic.  She also noted the change in disposition to the cat that she had met two weeks earlier.  As the vet was performing her examination (including copious amounts of poking and prodding), Si curled up on the table and went to sleep.  I’d never seen my Devil Cat be so mellow – so at peace.  I reached over, gave Si’s head a scratch and asked, “Are you trying to tell us something?”  Si continued to sleep softly.  That was really the only sign I needed to know that Si would not be coming home.

Peaceful Si

Peaceful Si

I’m not going to lie, when it happened I bawled like a baby.  I tear up now just thinking about it.  The following day I woke up and numbed my pain by scrubbing the basement from top to bottom.  The day after that I broke down completely and stayed in bed all day, even missing work.  Our other cats also grieved in their own curious ways.  Kali began sleeping in Si’s spots and taking over duties formally performed by Si (such as the nightly harassment of hubby for treats).  Bijoux spent an entire day wandering the house, stopping to periodically vomit.

I had always known that it wasn’t going to be easy to say good-bye to Si, but I never realized just how much it was going to effect me.  Although, I’d had other cats come and go – Si was different.  She had been a faithful companion for almost eighteen years.  She had moved with me when I left my parents’ home to begin my life.  She had been with me as I experienced the awkward journey of becoming an adult.  She was there for the very best and very worst of my memories.  Si and I had been together longer than hubby and I. Although it sounds clichéd, it really did feel like losing a part of my self.

Many months later I still feel an emptiness and, on occasion, I see a streak of grey and white fur pass by my peripheral vision.  Some days I wake up and expect to hear tiny tippy-toes and puss-patties pacing impatiently for food, or the unexpectedly dainty mew trilling from a beast of a cat.  Then, there are days like today – days where the bitterness of loss is triumphed by the sweetness of memory.

A girl and her cat...

A girl and her cat…

M. xo

Share
Categories: Personal Tags: , ,

About a Cat: Part 3

June 10th, 2013 No comments
Share

Read part one and two of this story.

Over the years, Si had to learn to adapt to living with several different cats.  Each time a new cat joined our family, Queen Si managed to keep her place on her throne.  There were periods of adjustment.  These usually entailed several weeks of sleep being hijacked by the blood-curdling screams of feline warfare.  Despite the odds, Si always emerged from the battlefield victorious.  Within weeks, Si would once again be leading the daily line-up for rations and coveted treats.

Queen Si atop her throne

Queen Si atop her throne

In 2005, our two-cat household instantly became a seven-cat household when we decided to adopt a fluffy and precocious stray that had been found in an abandoned refrigerator in the front foyer of our apartment building.  I suppose a start like that deserves a bit of an explanation.  Our landlord had been storing an old fridge and stove in the foyer of the building.  On his usual Monday morning visit, he noticed that the door of the refrigerator was shut tightly instead of propped open as he had left it. Upon opening the door, a shell-shocked – but, very thankful – cat leapt out from inside.  Now, the landlord had a bit of a soft spot for animals, especially cats.  He’d been known to let strays live in some dilapidated sheds in the backyard, and he proudly claimed to have rescued well-over sixty cats by whisking them away to a nearby shelter in his beat-up Cadillac chariot.

There was something about this stray, however, that made the landlord wait before taking her to the shelter.  She certainly was a beautiful cat, and her demeanour was perfectly Zen.  He figured she must have belonged to someone and wanted to try and find the cat’s owners.  There was an empty apartment in the building, so he set up the cat with its very own pad and enlisted the help of hubby and me to care for it.  Within a couple days, we had named her Bijoux and had decided that we’d like to adopt her if no one stepped forward to claim her.  So, that’s how Si gained a new sister – but, it wasn’t until a couple weeks later that we discovered that Bijoux was carrying four little ones who would soon shake up the homestead.

Mama Bijoux and the Itty Bitty Kitty Committee (2005)

Mama Bijoux and the Itty Bitty Kitty Committee (2005)

Si, and her brother, Buddy (a stray who had moved with us from another city) soon found their quiet home invaded by the mischievous antics of Mama Bijoux and the Itty Bitty Kitty Committee.  Peanut, KatStevens, Screech, and Tink arrived in early February of 2005.  Now, Si had never spent any time around kittens – and she wasn’t too fond of chaos.  True to any great leader, Si valued order and stability.  As if sensing the potential danger from Si, Bijoux gave birth in our bedroom.  So, it was easy to keep Si away from the kittens when they were too small to even have a chance of defending themselves.  Once the kittens started getting more agile (and subsequently using us as unwitting jungle gyms in the middle of the night), we relocated them into the living room.  This was Si’s first paw-to-paw introduction with a miniature feline.  The kittens learned relatively quickly to avoid the big, grouchy one.  It only took one kitten’s curious advances toward Si, followed by a swift thud of the kitten’s head bouncing off the floor, for all the kittens to get message.  It was a knock-out, and Si continued her reign as the heavy-weight (literally) champion.  Eventually, stability and order was restored when the kittens found new homes.

Si had never really bonded with another animal, despite having lived with well over a dozen different cats.  Most cats learned very quickly to steer clear of Si.  Si was untouchable.  There would be no feline-to-feline cuddle sessions and if any cat dared to try and clean her, they were met with a deep growl and swift smack upside the head.  Yep, Si was a loner for all intents – that was until a spunky little stray named Kali joined our family.  Kali showed up in our backyard one day while we were barbecuing.  This oh-so-tiny stray cautiously approached, clearly looking for something to eat.  It was easy to tell that she was starving.  Try as we might, we couldn’t get close to her.  So, we tossed her morsels of food which she graciously devoured while keeping a suspicious eye targeted on both of us.

View from an office window

View from an office window

The next day while I was working in my home office, Kali came strolling along a fence outside my window, sat down and watched me.  I guessed she was wondering when we were coming outside for dinner time again.  So, I put out some kibble and water, and later that evening hubby and I constructed a make-shift house in the backyard for her. For several weeks we dutifully refilled Kali’s food and water dishes and tried to socialize her so that we could take her to a shelter.  Of course, it was during this time that we grew a fondness for her.  We also began to suspect that she had been horribly abused by her previous ‘caregivers.’  That’s when we decided that we couldn’t take a chance by letting her be adopted by a stranger who might not give her the same quality of care that we knew we could.  And besides, she was warming up to us – particularly hubby who you’ll recall is somewhat of a Cat Whisperer.

It was during an evening when we were taking our cats for a check-up at the vets that hubby looked out back and saw Kali laying down in her make-shift house while the rain poured down around her.  Hubby looked at me and said, “Can we keep her?”  Admittedly, I was reluctant because we had just lost a cat and also just said good-bye to the last member of the Itty Bitty Kitty Committee.  I swear Kali heard hubby’s plea because when I looked outside at her, she was looking directly at me with such haunted eyes that there was no way I could reject hubby’s pleas. “If you can get her into a cage and to the vets for a check-up, we can keep her.”  I’m pretty sure hubby was out the door with cage in hand before I even finished my sentence.  Astonishingly, Kali climbed right into the cage.  To this day, I’m sure she planned the whole thing.  So after a visit to the vets, Kali came home.

Kamikaze Kali

Kamikaze Kali

Now Kali isn’t the smartest kitten of the litter – or at least that’s what she wants you to think.  So, when she met Si she didn’t quite understand that it wasn’t a sign of affection when Si swatted her across the head.  Kali was relentless with Si.  She clearly understood that Si was the alpha cat, and she seemingly wanted to be her right-hand feline.  Wherever Si would go, Kali was in tow.  When Si would fall asleep, Kali would quietly nuzzle up next to her.  On more than one occasion Si would wake up from a slumber to see this unrelenting cat peacefully curled up beside her – TOUCHING HER NO LESS.  And each time Si would have this “WTF?!?” expression on her face.  She would hiss and quickly retreat from Kali, yet when next she fell asleep, Kali would be right back at it trying to win over the Devil Cat. I’m pretty sure that Kali crossed the line when she decided to start bathing Si.  Si would have none of that and she’d lunge at Kali pinning her down so she knew that was NOT OKAY.  Kali was also always trying to play with Si.  Kali was a kitten after all, but Si was well into old age and play time was a rare and short occurrence.

Kali and Si (2010)

Kali and Si (2010)

For the most part, Si grew to tolerate and even like Kali. I would wager to say that Kali was Si’s only feline friend.   If you’ve ever seen the Looney Tunes episodes featuring the big tough bull dog, Spike and the scrappy annoying little dog, Chester – that was Si and Kali.   Yes, Kali annoyed Si, but she also gave Si purpose again.  Si changed Kali, too.  Slowly, Kali began to learn how to toughen up and not be so fearful of every noise or person.  It was after Si passed away that these qualities began to emerge more vibrantly from Kali.

Stay tuned for the conclusion of Si’s story in About a Cat…

M. xo

Share
Categories: Personal Tags: , ,

About a Cat: Part 2

June 7th, 2013 No comments
Share

If you missed Part 1 of this story, read it here.

Preston, an albino rat, chillaxin' in a hoodie.

Preston, an albino rat, chillaxin’ in a hoodie.

After almost three years of living within the turbulent waters of alcoholism, I abandoned ship.  Before I could prepare for my new journey, boyfriend and I had a custody dispute over the various pets in our care.  In addition to Si, we had raised several pet rats.  Anyone who’s ever had a pet rat will know the kind of joy they can bring – if you can get over the idea that your pet is much maligned rodent.  I knew there was no way boyfriend was going to let me leave with all the pets, so my main focus was to remove Si from that environment.  After much ‘negotiation,’ boyfriend agreed to let me take Si and in exchange he could keep the rats and various mutual gifts bestowed to us as a couple.  Frankly, he could have kept everything I owned so long as I could walk out of there with Si in my arms.

It was with the prospect of a brighter horizon, that Si and I embarked on new adventures.  For a few years, we lived a nomadic existence, cohabitating with various different people and furry friends (or foes, if you asked Si).  During this time, Si was faithfully by my side.  At times, her loyalty was a tad overbearing.  Visitors were generally considered an imposition on her time with me.  If I was engaged in conversation with a friend, Si would jump into my lap, bite my arm and then lay down with laser eyes trained on said friend.  I couldn’t really blame her, could I?  She was highly suspicious of everyone – but, mostly men.   Admittedly, I was also covered in the residue of my previous relationship.  A dark cloud had formed around me as I engaged in the self-blame game of a failed relationship and flunking out of college.  For a gal who had always excelled academically (and incidentally won an award the same year she flunked out ), seeing those glaring Fs had greatly contributed to my deflating self-esteem.  Si was reacting by becoming more protective of me.

Laser-eyed Si

Laser-eyed Si

On two occasions I had to leave Si in the care of others. I was again bewildered by this feline’s unwavering loyalty.  I left her in early 1998 with my housemates while I travelled to another city to find a job and a new place to live.  During this time an ice-storm blanketed the region and knocked power out for days.  People were freezing in their homes.  My housemates had desperately tried to get Si to leave my freezing bedroom and warm up in an area being heated by a gas stove.  Si refused to budge.  She waited in my bedroom for weeks for me to return.  Cold or no cold, she wasn’t leaving.

About a year later, I had to once again leave Si with my housemates.  I was gone for a month, but I knew Si was in the care of someone who understood her.  Si was being watched by my best friend and they had a good (as good as it could be with Si) relationship.  In fact, I always said that no one, but me, could ever take care of Si – except my best friend.  She knew what we had both been through and Si seemed to sense that she was on our side.  I was racked with guilt for leaving her for so long once again.  Upon my return,  my best friend went into the living room and said, “Wusser-Si, your Mommy’s here.” Si jumped down from the couch and ran over to me while meowing jubilantly.  It was one of the most moving displays of affection Si had ever shown me. It was as if she had been waiting for me to come get her – as if she knew I would return.

Several months went by as Si and I lived in a tiny bachelor apartment completely on our own.  During this time, Si would frequently accompany me on trips back to my home town.  She would happily sit in the back window of the car for the long journey.  Her eyes would dilate the size of saucers as she watched the lights of other vehicles pass by.

On one such visit, I took Si to my Grandpa’s house.  Grandpa wasn’t very fond of cats.  Apparently, many years earlier, he had had a terrible encounter with a feline that scarred him for life.  So when I walked in with Si cradled in my arms, he – in his often colourful language – asked, “What the hell is that and why the fuck are you bringing it into my house?”  Now my Grandpa was tough on the outside, but when it came to his granddaughter, he was a big softy.  I simply told Grandpa that where I went, Si went.  I freed Si from my arms and she merrily went about her business investigating the house, all the while my Grandpa kept a close eye on the beast.

During that same visit, Si met my childhood pet, Dravecky.  Dravecky was an iguana that had been with our family for years.  He had free reign of the house and was full of the equivalent of ‘cat-itude’ – we’ll call it ‘iguan-itude’.  My mother had to frequently scold him for sneaking up onto the kitchen table and eating her breakfast when she had her back turned.  Dravecky was also known to stand off with anyone who happened to encounter him in the upstairs hall.  Much like Si, Dravecky was the boss of his house.  Now, when I say iguana you might be tempted to picture those cute little reptiles found in terrariums of pet stores.  No, you see, Dravecky was over ten years old and he hadn’t been caged for his entire time with us.  He was a large domesticated lizard.  It often took the power of two grown men to subdue him, when the need called.  Assuredly one whip from his tail would have seriously injured Si.  So, naturally I was nervous about how the two would get along.  Of course, those nerves were unwarranted because, well, Si was the boss not only in her own home, but in any home she entered.  So for three days and nights, poor Dravecky stayed perfectly still on his perch high enough up that Si couldn’t reach him.  The only thing that moved on that lizard was his eye which was trained on Si like a sniper’s rifle.  I’m not sure that Si even noticed that there was another animal in the house.  It’s more likely that she just didn’t care.  So long as the other beast knew its proper place.

Stu hanging out on top of Dravecky.

Stu hanging out on top of Dravecky.

That’s how Si was with any animal she encountered.  Several years later when my Dad would bring his large dog, Valentine to visit, Si would be the only cat in the household to venture into the same area as Valentine.  She’d walk right up to Valentine and hiss, and then promptly walk away.  You know, just to make sure the dog knew its place too.  That was Wusser-Si – absolutely no fear.  While other cats were cowering during thunderstorms, she’d be calmly bathing herself and (I imagine) laughing on the inside at their foolishness over a little storm.

While Si and I were living in that tiny bachelor apartment,  I met my future husband.  That’s when life started to change for both of us.  It began when I had to make a decision I wish I never had too.  It was with much hesitation that I had to have Si de-clawed when she was approaching the age of five years old.  Now anyone who knows a thing about cats knows this is a very painful experience for felines – particularly the older they get.  It’s tantamount to a human having their finger removed at the knuckle.  I made this decision after consulting a vet about her behaviour.  Si had been getting more aggressive, much of it I imagined had to do with my highly neurotic state.  The vet simply stated that I had two choices, put her down or de-claw her.  For the record, I am against de-clawing of cats and none of the other cats I’ve had over the years have ever been de-clawed.  With Si though, I felt like I had no choice.  Her early (and formative) years had been spent in the company of a violent alcoholic, and this had clearly left her on the defensive – particularly toward men.  She never took to any of the subsequent boyfriends I had, and became quite aggressive when I started dating my husband-to-be.  I think she sensed I was falling love, which meant sharing my affection with another.  Si was never very good at sharing.

Even the dreaded vacuum was no match for the Wusser-Si.  It was just another day at the spa.

Even the vacuum was no match for Si. It was just another day at the spa.

Ironically, hubby was perhaps the kindest and gentlest man I had ever been acquainted with, so it was quite disconcerting when he would sleep over and be attacked in the middle of the night by a very jealous and protective cat.  As hubby recounts, Si would sit at the end of the bed and wait for his feet to dangle over.  Then she would raise her paw, unsheathe each claw one after the other, and let the moonlight glisten on them before swiping full throttle at his feet.  True to his nature though, hubby didn’t lash out at Si.  Instead he began to gain her trust (through copious amounts of soft food, treats, and ear rubs).  So, when I decided to once again live with a man, I made the heart-wrenching decision to have Si de-clawed.  It was not only so my hubby (who is also allergic to cats) could live without fear of being maimed, but because we were talking about having children.  There were just far too many what-ifs where Si was concerned.  I wasn’t about to end her life just because she was overprotective.  That wasn’t her fault.  So, I opted for the lesser of two evils.  If  kids ever blessed our life, we would reassess the situation to see how Si would adjust.  In the meantime, hubby’s feet needed a break from the nightly bombardment of Wusser-Si lashings.

Surprisingly, Si took to the de-clawing rather well.  She simply learned how to defend herself in other ways.  So, when we adopted another cat, Si was still boss of the house – even without claws.  She stayed boss of the house right up until the day she died.  We’ve had several cats throughout the years, and none of them could topple Queen Si from her throne.  It was impressive, indeed to watch her puff up and growl at the newest additions – and then see them roll over and expose their bellies.  It was like some weird feline Jedi mind trick.

Nap-time Si

Nap-time Si

Si also took to hubby.  A friend who hadn’t seen Si in years (and who had once lived with Si) was amazed at Si’s demeanor when she came to visit us.  That’s when hubby got the moniker, ‘Cat Whisperer’.  Whether it was the treats or constant ear rubs, Si loved hubby.  She had him trained in no time too.  Every night at 6 pm promptly, she would paw at hubby incessantly until he relented and gave her treats.  We once decided to see how long she would paw at him for her treats.  After an hour and half, hubby caved.

TO BE CONTINUED….

Stayed tuned to find out what happens when Si lives with four pesky kittens, (reluctantly) bonds with another cat and finds peace in the final years of her life…

M. xo

Share
Categories: Personal Tags: ,

About a Cat: Part 1

June 6th, 2013 No comments
Share

Let me preface this post by suggesting that if you’re the kind of person who views pets as property rather than a member of the family, then you probably will want to stop reading now. Oh, and I’ll also forewarn you that this is a long story – I’ve got 18 years of stories to share. That said, I’ve decided to break it up into smaller posts.

This is about a cat – a cat that brought much joy, and admittedly, challenges to my life.  Today she would have turned 18 years old, but it was with great sadness that on November 9th of last year, that I had to say good-bye to my beloved feline companion, Osiris Maxwell – or Si, as most everyone called her.  This is a tribute to a cat that was with me during the most tumultuous times of my life – a cat that faithfully stayed by my side when my world seemed to be crumbling around me.  Whoever said dogs are the most loyal of pets, never met the Wusser-Si (my affectionate name for her).

It was in 1995, when I left home to pursue post-secondary studies that an almost two-decade bond with this larger than life feline began.  I had always wanted a cat.  Sure, we had cats growing up.  It’s just that those cats never seemed to stick around that long.  It might have had something to do with a kindly neighbour woman who liked to feed neighbourhood pets, and subsequently lure them into her own home with the promise of tasty morsels; or perhaps, it was because I was obsessed with dressing my cats up in doll clothes when I was a kid (which I later learned is a most undignified state for a feline).  For the most part, my childhood pets consisted of the non-furry variety: fish and lizards. So, I remember thinking that I could finally have any pet I wanted now that I was moving into my very own home.  I knew it was going to be a cat, and I knew that I was going to have that cat for its entire life because I felt strongly (and still do) that a pet is a ‘for-life’ commitment.

Baby Si

Baby Si (1995)

I met Si when she was only a few weeks old.  I instantly fell in love with the little grey and white spitfire of a kitten who hissed at me when I approached her.  Challenge accepted, I thought.  At the time, we all thought Si was a male which is why she ended up with a masculine name.  It was in August of 1995 that I packed up my belongings, picked up Si and headed east to my new home town. Si instantly took to her new home and house mates.  She delighted in all the attention she received, particularly from me.  Soon she was by my side or in my lap whenever she wasn’t eating or playing.  It became clear early on that she was full of ‘cat-itude’.  She ran the household and anyone living in it was there to serve her.  She did what she liked, when she liked and if Si didn’t like you, you’d find out.  What’s more, if I didn’t like you or was mad at you, Si made sure to take up those grievance on my behalf.

I first noticed this fierce feline loyalty when a friend of mine stopped by with a woman that I had met before, but of whom I wasn’t too fond.  This woman just wasn’t pleasant to be around and apparently Si had sensed my unease with her being in our home.  The woman bent down to pet Si and at the same moment Si reached up and clawed the woman across the cheek.  Now, in all fairness, this stranger shouldn’t have invaded an animal’s personal space without properly introducing herself.  This is just common sense.  After leaving four perfectly bleeding claw marks across the woman’s cheek, Si calmly walked away with tail proudly in the air.  Of course, I apologized profusely and scolded Si (then locked her in the bedroom), but the woman laughed it off, and went to the bathroom to clean her wounds.  This was my first indication that Si was an unusually loyal cat, some might even have called her my familiar.

SI_young

Si (1996)

At the time, I was living with a friend and my boyfriend.  My boyfriend had issues with alcohol – meaning that whenever he drank, he became an issue.  Alcohol and he just didn’t mix, and unfortunately he became employed as a cook at a pub.  The temptation to drink (as much as he tried not too) was ever-present.  He eventually fell off the rickety wagon he was on and began coming home, after every shift, drunker than the patrons at the pub on New Year’s Eve.  This caused much discourse in our household.  I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown from trying to balance academic studies with my personal life that was slowly spiralling out of control.  Si began to react to the upheaval by letting the boyfriend know just how she (and I) was feeling.  One day she climbed inside his brand new twenty-hole Doc Marten boots and pissed.  I don’t think he ever did get that eau du cat pee smell out of them.  Yet another day, she quietly climbed up the couch behind him, stood up on her hind legs and proceeded to box the hell out of his ears.  I just pictured her feline thoughts something along the lines of “and this is for being a raging asshole at three o’clock every morning… and this is for playing loud death metal music at four o’clock every morning… and this is for …” well, you get the picture.  Each time she took her frustrations out on the boyfriend, I laughed on the inside.

It was one night in particular that I realized that Si had adopted the role of my protector.  Boyfriend came home in an unusually raging alcoholic fit, so much so that it scared me to the point of locking myself in the bedroom.  Of course, Si was locked in there with me and as we sat listening to a mad man unleash his fury on the apartment; Si began to grab at my throat with her teeth and pull.  It wasn’t a violent bite and tug, but rather the kind mother cats do to their young when carrying them to safety.  From that point onward, whenever I found myself in a fit of tears, Si would bite and tug at me.  Yes, it was unsettling – but in context it was also endearing.

Of course, Si’s bites weren’t always meant as loving gestures.  There were also times when she would show her disapproval by lunging at my arms and biting me.  Those times were usually when I had gone away for a couple days and left her alone or in the care of someone who just didn’t understand her.  In fact, she behaved this way toward me for her entire life.  So much so, that many years later when I married, my husband had to calm Si down upon our return from a weekend away before I could even approach her.  The times that hubby didn’t do this meant Si cornering me and growling at me until she got one good bite into my arm.  Yep, I wasn’t kidding when I said she was a challenging cat.

Devil Si (2003)

“Devil” Si (2003)

It’s true that she scared the crap out of many people which is probably why she was called ‘Devil-cat’ and the ‘Cat from Hell’ by several of my friends.  She was known to bully not only other animals, but people too.  On more than one occasion I had to rescue someone who had been cornered by Si as she stalked them and prepared to strike.  Once I even had to lock Si in a bathroom when she tried to attack a pitbull. That was the thing about Si, she was both a lover and a fighter….

TO BE CONTINUED….

In tomorrow’s post, find out what happens when Si goes on a road trip, meets an iguana, is introduced to the man I would eventually marry, and the heart-wrenching decision I wish I never had to make…

M. xo

To read the continuation of this story, click here

Share
Categories: Personal Tags: ,

Soaring out of the Spiritual Closet

February 13th, 2013 No comments
Share

When I tell people that I study religion there is often one of two assumptions made – either that I am deeply religious or that I am unreservedly anti-religious.  These assumptions are inaccurate.  So, in honour of my second year of blogging under the Black Chicken moniker, I thought I’d soar out of the spiritual closet, so to speak, and clear up a few things (and undoubtedly ruffle a few feathers in the process).

I do not consider myself religious in the sense that I am a follower of any particular faith, institution or path.  I do, however, consider myself a student of all religions and paths – both the traditional and esoteric.  The closest definition I can attribute to my beliefs is agnostic.  Simply put – I don’t profess to know one way or the other.   I’ve never been particularly fond of rigid definitions, but for sake of classifying my beliefs, it’ll have to do.

I consider myself a secularist.  In this sense, I mean that I don’t believe politics and religion should mix.  It does not mean, however, that I think religion should be banished from society or that religious groups shouldn’t have a voice (just like any other group representing a segment of people within society).   I just believe that when one group is given preferential status to shape politics, this inevitably leads to alienating people within that society.  For me, it doesn’t matter how small or fringe the out-group happens to be, they are still part of the make-up of society and have just as much right to express themselves to the powers that govern.

I am a secularist, religious ‘none’, but this does not mean that I don’t find value in religion.  I hold the view that religion has inspired people to create some truly beautiful things in the world.  From artistic expression to revolutionary movements, religious motivation can be wonderfully awesome.  I am also aware that this same motivation has aroused some truly heinous things.  I don’t deny that, but I think it’s important to point out that religions are not inherently good or bad – it is people that hold these qualities.  Sure, I can prattle off images of violence in sacred texts and historical examples of religiously-motivated atrocities.  In the same breath I can identify calls for peace and love in scriptures and point out divinely-inspired movements that have had great benefit to mankind.  It’s not as black and white as far too many people claim.

I believe in tolerance and respect.  I seek to achieve these in my own life by removing myself from my context and trying to understand and even appreciate the worldviews of my fellow human beings.   No, I don’t always agree with everyone or everything I come across.  That’s not the point.  I don’t have to agree, but I do believe that I have a duty to earn respect by giving respect.  It is far too often that I see extreme groups both religious and irreligious condemning the other for so called atrocities.  Let’s get real on this subject.  It is fine to align anywhere along the spectrum of belief.  That’s your choice, but to infringe on the rights of others to do so is horribly hypocritical – especially when one of your base arguments is that the ‘other’ forces their beliefs on people.  Kettle meet pot.   Far too often I see online groups that supposedly represent a rational worldview calling for an end to religion because it indoctrinates and dictates.  I hope they see the irony in these arguments.  On the other side, I see groups claiming a moral ambiguity and an erosion of ethics due to a lack of religious values.  Again, I think we need to get real.  Religion does not make people evil or righteous.  It is people who can be considered good, bad, or somewhere along the spectrum.  Yes, religion may inspire or motivate them.  So too can art, literature, politics, experiences, illness, and a host of other variables.  Again, it’s not as black and white as some claim.

Further, I’m not saying that you can’t critique, satirize or poke fun at beliefs.  Sure you can.  In my opinion, it should never be to hurt, mock or incite violence and hatred.  If you’re going to do it, be respectful and open to dialogue.  I realize this is a very fine line (one that I too have been guilty of crossing), but that’s how freedom of expression works.  The problem is when we express in a manner that is disparaging.   If the intent is malicious, then it really serves no good purpose such as engaging in critical thinking or laughing with someone instead of at someone.

We will never find peace in the world or within ourselves until we stop the madness of forcing other people to adopt our worldviews whether they are religious or otherwise.  We also cannot say that we are truly secure in our own beliefs if we are belittling and bullying others for theirs.  On this, the second anniversary of my online squawking and feather-ruffling, I extend a wish that you all find your inner peace and security.  Live and let live.

M. xo

Share
Categories: Religion Tags: , ,

Saying Good-bye to 2012

December 30th, 2012 No comments
Share

I’m finally emerging from my self-induced holiday coma.  The holidays were splendidly relaxing.  Good thing too, because I always feel like I need to recharge as the end of the year approaches and a new one beckons on the horizon.

Since I’m still feeling the effects of the holidaze, I haven’t been up to the task of writing something provocative, informative, or even all that interesting, but I didn’t want 2012 to slip by without imprinting the InterWeb with one last message for the year.

So, what to write about?  I could write reflective lists highlighting memorable people and events from the past year.  Or I could publicly profess my resolutions for the upcoming year (which incidentally would have little impact on whether I actually stick to them).  Perhaps I could regale you with my thoughts on the apocalypse phenomenon that pervaded much of 2012, or maybe even the much ballyhooed discontinuation of Twinkies in the United States.  I could contrast the darkest incidents of 2012 with the brightest and most heart-warming.  Yet none of these messages would convey what I’d want to pass on.

Simply, best wishes to you and yours.  Happy New Year!

M. xo

P.S. Cool video alert!  2012: What Brought Us Together.

 

Share

The Puck Stops Here

October 13th, 2012 No comments
Share

If you perch here regularly then you’ll know that I don’t just squawk and chirp about religion.  This is one of those times when something else has gotten my feathers in a ruffle.  Let’s address the 2012 NHL Lockout (isn’t it sad that we’ve even resorted to dating the lockout?).  Personally, I just find it ridiculous that millionaires are bickering about money.  I can’t really say any more than that.  It’s just ridiculous.  Of course, I know I’m simplifying things tremendously, but it’s just so exasperating, and I kind of feel like we’ve been here and done this before.

Besides, I couldn’t express myself any better than the frustrated hockey fans you’ll find in the videos below.  They’ve come up with some creative messages for the players and the owners.  Hopefully, they’ll be an end to the lockout soon.  Especially for my father’s sake – you know something just isn’t right in your world when your hockey-loving father is substituting the missed games on the ice with episodes of Survivor.  Please bring back the game before the merge; otherwise my Dad might be sucked irreversibly into the Burnett vortex.

M. xo

Shut the Puck Up (NHL Lockout Song)

The Lockout Song

The Lockout Song – (No More Merch)

The Official Song of the NHL Lockout

NHL – ‘Together We Can’ change.org/nolockout (HD)

 

 

Share
Categories: Society and Culture Tags: ,

What’s in a Name?

July 5th, 2012 No comments
Share

It’s a common question posed to me – “What’s the significance of the name Black Chicken?”  Often, this question is accompanied by chuckles and a perplexed expression.  I typically do not offer any explanation aside from the name being an inside joke, which is in part, true.  So, today I thought I’d let the cat out of the bag the bird out of the cage.

The term Black Chicken was coined many years ago when I was hanging out with friends.  I had developed a bad case of hiccups — you know the kind that just won’t stop no matter what you do.  One of my friends told me that he could get rid of my hiccups — guaranteed — then promptly shouted, “White Horses!”  To my surprise, my hiccups disappeared.  My hiccup-curing friend told me that it had never failed for him.  And you know what – I’ve done this many times since, and it works.

After mulling it over, I realized that it was the very absurdity of his actions that probably caused a physiological response similar to that of which one experiences when surprised.  I began to think of whether I could use this element of surprise in other ways.  One evening while I was out with friends playing a game of pool, I thought I’d test the theory.  As one of my opponents steady to shoot, I calmly walked by and said, “Black Chicken” (Black because it was my favourite colour, and Chicken because I was egging my opponent on).  He missed his shot and asked me what the heck my muttering was all about.  I shrugged and told him it was the power of the Black Chicken.  Eventually, the practice of muttering “Black Chicken” while one’s opponent was concentrating on their next move, became an inside jinxing joke among my circle of friends.

Years later, when I was looking for a Web domain name I found that Black Chicken was available.  Since, the moniker had a personal connection for me, I chose the domain name.  I began using the domain in my emails and for various online projects, and came to discover that people remembered the name simply because it was so odd.

Around this time, I also discovered that black chickens were actually real and not just a figment of my imagination!  I learned some curiously interesting facts and myths about black chickens.  I discovered that black chickens were fundamental parts of folklore from Italy, Bulgaria, China and various parts of the southern United States.  In present day, black chickens are considered a delicacy in parts of Asia for their black meat, bones and feathers.  Additionally, a breed of black chickens called Silkies are considered some of the most docile of poultry.

When I started this blog, I decided to keep the Black Chicken name because all that I had learned seemed to fit quite well with my on-line presence.  Black Chickens are:  gentle, unusual, valuable, abhorrent, and memorable.  That’s how I see my blogging.  I will always try and be gentle about the unusual topics I choose to write about, and at times you may value my opinion or you may abhor it.  Above all, I will strive to leave a memorable impression on those who flutter into my coop.

That’s it in an nutshell eggshell.  I wish I could confess of more profound origins, like it being my spirit animal (which actually would be quite befitting), but I can’t.  It’s really that simple.

M. xo

Share
Categories: Personal Tags:

The Gal Behind the Feathers Celebrates 1 Year of Hen-Pecking!

February 14th, 2012 No comments
Share

Well, it’s officially a milestone!  This week, The Feed, celebrates its first year of feather ruffling and hen-pecking.  In all honesty, I’m not really sure what my goal was when I started this blog.  Truth is, I love to write and it’s much more about the journey for me than a means to an end.  Yeah, I know how ridiculously cliché that sounds, but it’s the honest-to-goodness truth.  And while I may not have posted as regularly as I had initially intended, the fact is I’m still perched here — chirping and squawking.  That, in itself is a pretty big accomplishment, so allow me a moment to strut.

Over the last year I’ve posted about the environment, art, family, religion, and general stuff that I found interesting.  I’m sure if you’ve read my blog you’ve discovered that I’m at times long-winded, passionate to a fault, and clearly looking for attention (isn’t that last point something common among all bloggers?).  I hope you’ve also been able to see that I am constantly asking questions and challenging myself and others to do the same.  I’m sure, as time goes on, that I’ll write things that seem to contradict or veer off onto a completely different path than what you’ve been accustomed to reading.  That’s because this is a journey, as are most things we do in life.  People change, grow and discover new things about themselves.  I’ve just chosen to share a part of my journey with the world.

One thing I do refrain from doing is posting too many personal details about myself.  Let’s face it, my subject matters are bound to incite some intense discussion, and I figure at some point in the future I’m bound to receive some hate mail.  After all, it’s not like I’m writing about my favourite recipes or the latest tech trend.  I write about stuff that gets people in a flap, and I certainly can’t expect people to always agree with me.  I do, however, expect that those who don’t will approach their discourse in a manner that is respectful.  This, I know, will not always occur.  That is the biggest reason why I, for the most part, keep anonymous.

Since it has been a year, I thought I would share a few details about myself that I haven’t yet.  Mostly, so you can get an idea of who the person is behind the feathers.

I love school.  The proof is in the fact that I’m a thirty-something gal who has been in school since kindergarten (except for a few year break where I was flying the skies in the working world).  I’ve studied advertising, public relations, marketing.  I have a degree in psychology and am on my way to completing honours degrees in both religion and psychology.

My career has been varied, mostly because I get bored so easily.  I’ve worked in events management, sales, marketing and administration.  I’ve been employed with high tech companies, not-for-profit organizations and as a freelance consultant.  I even had a stint as an online writer for a now defunct Web site.

I’m married to the most wonderful man who supports whatever endeavour I choose to pursue.  I have an awesome family and circle of friends that also support and encourage me in all my pursuits.  I love animals, especially cats.  I have three beautiful felines, one of which has been a companion for almost two decades.

I consider myself an amateur writer and artist.  I’ve written poetry and many short stories over the years – and have three novels in progress.  Someday I hope to finish at least one of them.  I’ve also kept a diary since I was twelve years old.  It’s turned into several volumes over the years, and while I may not write as often as I did in my teen years – I still find solace in the pages that hold my inner most secrets and desires.  My artistic pursuits have ranged from painting, mixed media and video.  A few years ago I had the pleasure of working on a couple independent documentaries as editor.  Mostly, I paint for the love of it; however, I hope to one day start selling my work.  A few of my friends and family have my pieces adorning their walls and this brings me much happiness.

Generally, I consider myself outgoing.  I do find this hard, at times, mostly because I have an anxiety disorder that makes the simplest of social exchanges difficult for me.  When you first meet me, I may come off as shy.  That’s mostly because I feel like my heart is going to explode and that I can’t breathe, especially in unfamiliar situations.  At times, my disorder has manifested itself as obsessive-compulsive in nature, and at least once in my life I experienced a depressive episode that made life almost unbearable.  I’m not ashamed to admit these things because I accept that I cannot change them.  We all have challenges and mine just happens to be one that I sometimes am not able to control, but I can manage it and that’s what I do.

People have told me that I have a unique laugh.  Some have said it borders on annoying, but mostly I’m told it’s music to their ears.  That’s another thing about myself that I can’t change, and I’m not sure I’d want too.  If people remember me because of my laugh, well, I can think of worse ways to be remembered.

Life is mysteriously beautiful and I embrace it.  I’m not perfect.  I have faults, but my intentions are always good -even if the outcome sometimes falls short.  The best I can do is continue on my journey and continue to learn more about myself, those around me and this crazy world we call home.  I’d be honoured if you continue this ride with me.   Here’s hoping you’ll find me a year from now, celebrating another milestone, and that I’ll find you here too.

M. xo

Share
Categories: Personal Tags:

Awesome

May 24th, 2011 No comments
Share

This past weekend, while some were anticipating the arrival of an ancient prophet to whisk them away to the Kingdom of Heaven, I was engaging in a special rite of my own. I travelled to Cherry Valley, Ontario – a quiet village located just outside of Picton, Ontario near the Sandbanks Provincial Park. I returned with some of my favourite people to the cottage resort where I married the love of my life.
With all the chatter on blogs and social networking sites about judgement day, and having the occasion to spend time in a special place with loved ones, it made me realize how lucky I am. If it was the end times, then I wouldn’t rather be any other place.
This weekend, while I left behind my ordinary and mundane to embark on something extraordinary, I was reminded of just how AWESOME moments like these are. It also had me thinking about just how AWESOME the little things are too. Its times like these, when the larger than life moments become just that much more with the addition of the small things that bring us joy too.
It’s those small things that we too often fail to appreciate and hold on too. Things like seeing your very first female cardinal, or throwing your fishing line out and catching your first fish moments later. Or learning a brand new board game, or creating catchy jingles from the spoils of classic games (ahem, 31 for 8). Maybe these moments don’t become etched into our memories, but they do make a lasting impression on our consciousness. All the little moments of joy accumulate and make life even more AWESOME.
Whether you spent this past weekend with loved ones enjoying the Canadian cottage life, or had some singular solace puttering in your garden, I hope you stopped to take in the AWSOMENESS of life’s small moments – the underrated and underappreciated moments. Those are the ones that we’ll all be truly thankful for when the journey ends.

Red Badger for Captain Chainsaw Highliner, Silver Fox & The Chili Train Conductor – over and out!

Share
Categories: Personal Tags: ,