The day you moved in

I love animals! They have been part of my life since I can remember. Dogs, cats, goats, horses, bunnies, fish, more cats, more dogs… a whole array of species have crossed my path and I can’t say that any of those has been a bad experience. Sad, perhaps, because their place in my life ended too soon, but never have I had any regrets or bad memories. I’ve never been afraid of them (even the scary-looking ones). In fact, I love animals so much that I made my business all about them.

Growing up we always had cats and dogs. When I was around ten years old, my mom found a box of kittens that had been left on the side of the road to starve to death. She had been riding her horse at the time, so she was unable to pick them up and bring them home. However, as soon as she arrived home she informed us of her findings, and my sister and I insisted that we had to go get them.

We did. I took possession of the only female out of four siblings. Two of the others died a few days later, and my sister kept the other survivor. Two years later she died of poisoning. I was devastated! She was the cutest, sweetest thing I had ever met. I was inconsolable for days, until my father, in an attempt to cheer me up, asked if I wanted a dog. I had never had my own dog, so I readily agreed. A friend of his had a dog that had just had puppies, and they were looking for homes for them all. We went to visit them a few days later so I could pick the one I wanted. He was the whitest of all, but what made me pick him was his adventurous spirit. While his siblings were busy eating, he was discovering the world around him. Walking away from them to sniff anything and everything that surrounded him. He was getting to know this world he had stumbled into. I knew right away that he was to be my dog. I named him Snowflake.

When I moved to Canada I wasn’t able to bring him with me, as I didn’t know where I was staying, if they allowed pets where I’d be living, or if it was the best thing for him. I asked my mom to look after him. However, when my mom moved to Sweden, the process to bring Snowflake with her was a nightmare. Bureaucracy made it almost impossible, he’d have to stay in quarantine for something like two months, and, well, it was just too much for my mom to take him when she also had so much to sort out. We decided he’d come to Canada to be with me. I had been in the country for a couple of months, I had found an apartment that I found adequate and I wanted my fur-baby with me. We organized it and my sister took care of the paperwork to make sure he made it to Canada without problems. I will forever be grateful to her for the care and commitment she took in getting it all sorted.

When he arrived (after over two days of traveling), he was utterly out of his mind from joy to see me. He was literally “crying”. I have never heard anything like it since. Snowflake and I were reunited.

Not long after, my partner at the time wanted to get his own dog. I am ashamed to say we bought her at a pet store (I knew nothing about that market, where I came from people got dogs from other people, nobody ever bought a dog at a pet store, so I thought it was legit). Meet Mr. Ed, the miniature-pinscher.

A year later, we got a cat (again, from a store). The cat was for my partner, as he wanted to have his own pet (yes, again!), and Mr. Ed had gotten attached to me. I had vowed to myself never to get a cat again because I was still hurting from when my last cat had passed. However, Hercules was a joy. He was this ginger cute tabby that became “one of the dogs”. He and Ed became really close and grew up together, never giving Hercules a chance to think of himself as anything but a dog.

Snowflake passed away when he was almost seventeen. Giving your pet the injection is the hardest thing you can do, and to this day I still wonder if I did the right thing by him. It’s really an awful responsibility, but I am so grateful for all the years we had together.

It was in 2010 when the main character of this story walked into my life quite unexpectedly. Some friends were fostering a cat, Brown Sugar. The first time I met her, she was skittish and afraid. She wouldn’t let anyone touch her and she’d go and hide whenever I visited.

When my friends asked if I could look after her while they went to visit his family in Europe, I of course said yes. She came to stay with me, and she fit right in. Mr. Ed and Hercules didn’t have a problem with her, and it was the first time Hercules interacted with another cat. It was funny to observe how he was watching this newcomer as if it was some alien thing. As I said, I really believe he might have thought of himself as a dog, having grown up only with dogs. However, while she was there for over two weeks, I could see how she enjoyed the environment and hanging out with Hercules, even though there was a big age gap. I decided to adopt her. For years I had my three pets, even when I split up from my partner at the time, it was I, my two cats, and my dog. When we moved out, I found a much smaller space, a one-bedroom apartment for all of us. Granted, Mr. Ed was smaller than the cats, so it wasn’t too tight. She passed away a couple of years later (from bladder cancer, right in my arms). Then there were the two cats and me. It was the first time ever that there wasn’t a dog in my life. I had always considered myself a dog person, but living with only two cats, I decided I was an animal person, and that each creature is wonderful and different in its own way. I loved my cats. Not a year after Mr. Ed passed away, we once again moved to a larger apartment (at this point, I had moved to several apartments —and to a different province with Hercules and Mr. Ed). Not six months later, Hercules was diagnosed with fatty liver disease, which, my vet told me, is the cause of death for many cats. He was, at the time, over fourteen years, so not a spring chicken anymore. I feed him through a tube and gave him meds for over three weeks and left almost two months rent on vet fees and meds. It was worth it. He recovered and was stronger than ever. We even got closer than we had been before. Brown Sugar, who I had renamed to PK (after hockey player PK Subban, I’ll tell you more about that later), was the most active of the two. She would also come and sleep with me on the couch or find someplace to make her bed (such as the bathroom sink). It was the three of us. We led a quiet and happy life.

A few years later I was forced to move out from my downtown apartment to a different part of the city. Once again, we all moved. It would be Hercules’ last move. In the fall of 2019, after twenty years with me, he passed away… again, in my arms.

I am thankful that each one of my pets has passed in my arms. They were never alone, but the guilt has always followed me when they died: could I have done more? Did I do enough? Although I only gave the injection to Snowflake, I still felt guilty about them going the way they did. For Hercules, it was painful, and I will never be able to erase that last hour he had from my mind. Not because I live in the past or I relive the moment, but it’s so hard when one can’t communicate with them. Understand what’s wrong and what could’ve been done differently.

Then there were two. PK and I. A few months later, a pandemic was affecting the whole world. And, boy, oh boy, am I grateful for PK. Even though we were already close, after Hercules' passing we grew even closer. We have an understanding. She comes and sleeps with me when she feels that something’s not right. Sometimes I wake up to find her sleeping next to me, using my arm as a resting point, or on my chest, just peacefully sleeping and, sometimes, purring softly. Other times I might find her sleeping on the empty pillow next to mine. She’ll actually tell me when she wants to play, her meows are all different: whether she’s hungry (loud and whiny), in a playful mood (loud and screechy), or when she wants some love (soft and quiet). Nuances that I had never before understood or, maybe, paid attention to, make perfect sense to me now. Sometimes we’ll chat, though we don’t really speak the same language, I think we understand each other.

Late December she wasn’t well. She started limping and I panicked. Cats sometimes have heart conditions that manifest with limps. Also, I was having some financial hardships at the time and a vet bill was not something I could afford. I swallowed my pride and started a FundMe campaign to be able to pay the bills. In less than a week I managed to get what I needed to pay for all the vet expenses. I didn’t have to wait to take her to the vet because one of the vets I’ve used the most here was kind enough to allow me to pay at a later date. Luckily, it was just a case of arthritis. PK is now around eleven or twelve years old, so she’s no youngster anymore.

I am so grateful that she’s in my life. She brings so many smiles and happiness to my days. When I’m changing the sheets she’ll go under the blanket, or lie on the clean sheets as I am changing them, and play with me. She’s playful, loving, and independent. She’s helped me not go mental during this pandemic; as we keep going on lockdown, then out of it, then in again… with no end in sight. I don’t dwell too much on these outside circumstances I can’t control because that would only serve me to go stark raving mad, but I have been limited in the human contact department, so having PK has not only saved my mind, but it’s been a joy. I sometimes smother her, but I know when she minds or when it’s OK. I know she doesn’t mind me putting my head on her, or petting her belly while my head rests on hers. I know she enjoys my company when she comes and sleeps behind my laptop while I work, or comes to get me in the bedroom when I am having a lazy day in bed. She likes being photographed because she’ll start purring when I start taking pictures of her non-stop. I have never regretted getting a pet, and even though I haven’t had PK from the time she was a kitten, we have grown to understand one another and to enjoy each other’s company.

I promised to explain her name, PK. At the time I adopted her, Subban was a sensation in the Montreal Canadiens, which was one of my favorite hockey teams. Well, my partner at the time used to drink bottled beer. He’d open the bottle and leave the caps lying around. She’d start playing with them in such a way that it looked like a hockey player with a puck. Some people tell me they liked Brown Sugar better, but, personally, it reminded me of a stripper’s name, plus it was too long!

As I finish writing this, she lies next to me, purring and expecting me to pet her and give her some love (animals are easy to please). Sometimes, when my hand or arm is near her, she’ll lick it with that paper sand texture of her tongue. I love it! I never had a cat lick me before.

Having a pet is not just about having an animal to keep one company. I think anyone who’s had a bond with any animal (be it wild or domesticated) knows that there’s something more. There’s a connection, maybe to that energy, that essence of Nature that we are all part of. I don’t know, I can’t express it. All I can say is that having had animals all my life has made me a better person, and I cannot imagine my life without them.