Today started out decent enough; my cold seemed to be getting better, Alex's cold was almost non-existent, I got a good bit of housework done, and today was my grandmother's birthday. Shortly after lunch time the bad news started trickling in. First, Matt started feeling the effects of the cold that I and my son had been sharing; second, Matt got some bad news at work (which I can't publicly talk about at this moment); third, My cold came back strong (Alex's as well); fourth, I messed up where my grandmother's party was going to be held at; and last but certainly not least, we found out that Matt's mother's dog, Cotton passed away today in his sleep. What makes this news tragic is the fact that there wasn't a person who met that sweet, round dog that didn't like him! You couldn't help but love his plump belly and short little legs. From the moment I first walked in the door at her house he greeted me and every day there on. It used to be our ritual that I HAD to sit down on the couch when I walked in the door just so he could plop down beside me and get his belly scratched and he certainly wouldn't let me forget my duties! To hear this news was heart breaking, even though most of us knew it was coming. The old boy lived to be 14 years old, had two tumors growing, and had the start of kidney failure. He will be missed dearly. This event is what is leading me to write tonight. As an ex-veterinarian assistant I've seen this happen more times than I can count but it never gets easier. Have you ever wondered what it is that draws us, as humans, so close to animals? Each person is different and we each have a certain animal that we connect to more. For instance: My fiancé, it's Tic Tac our miniature dachshund; me, it's my cat Meghan (pictured below); and my son Alex, strangely enough it's crickets!
The story behind Meghan is easy enough to understand why we have such a deep connection: When Alex was about three years old I had a cat named April whom decided that she would LOVE to get "knocked up" and that she did. Once she got big enough, I used to lay on the floor beside her with my hand on her stomach being able to feel each and every kitten as they moved about inside of her. After a few months the day came when it was time for her to give birth. I sat on the hard kitchen floor patiently awaiting the arrival of the kittens and lo and behold the first one finally came into the world. April diligently tore open the sack that all kittens are in when they first come out, and ate the remains (don't ask me about this one...supposedly it's healthy for them to eat the sack!). She then began to clean the little black and white kitten from head to toe making sure nothing was left on the boy. April paused, looked up at me, let out a low wailing sound, and began to push out the second kitten. This time though, she glanced down at it, smelled it for a second, and pushed it to the side. I watched in horror as the little black and grey tabby kitten struggled to find air inside of that sealed bag. I tried my best to get April to pay attention to the new kitten but once another kitten popped out and she immediately got to work on cleaning the third kitten, I knew something was wrong!
I did the only thing I could think of, which was to grab a sharp kitchen knife, slice into the bag and free the kitten myself. Once it was all said and done with, April had seven kittens (one too many for her nipples) and she cleaned all of the kittens except that one tabby. So once again I refused to let the kitten die and started working on cleaning the kitten softly with a warm washcloth until she was perfectly clean. I tried time and time again to get April to let this kitten nurse. It never did happen so...(have you guessed it yet?) I bought a kitten feeding bottle and milk and proceeded over the next few weeks to nurture her myself. April tried three different times to actually sit on that kitten and suffocate her.
Now before all of you think that I had some homicidal cat, let me explain this. When a mother cat smells that a kitten will not make it, she will completely avoid the kitten and simply just let it die. There could many different explanations for this but no one actually knows the true reason for this (they just guess!) So April obviously felt this particular kitten wouldn't survive. I, on the other hand, refused that idea and continued to care of her to the best of my ability. We became attached at the hip. I learned later that if you help birth a kitten, feed it, clean it, and nurture it that he or she will honestly think that you are their mother! They will grow up not knowing the difference between a human and a cat. They simply just think you are one of them. So this explains our attachment to each other. By the way: that little kitten was later named Meghan (pictured here) and is now three years old and doing quite well! (And yes, as I type this Meghan is right beside me)
After saying all of this, I know each and every person has a story about why they are so attached to their pets. Maybe they saved your life? Maybe you saved theirs? Maybe they were the only "friend" not to turn their backs on you or maybe they are your only family? Whatever the story may be, it's certain that animals will always have a special place in mankind's hearts. But before I end this let me say, wouldn't it be wonderful if we could all think like animals? Liking someone for who they really are instead of what they look like??? Food for thought!
We love you Cotton and we certainly won't forget you and your crazy antics! Rest in peace my dear friend.
Much love,
Sarah M.
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