Saturday, April 10, 2010

Day 98: Pepper the cat

My mother doesn't read my blog.

She doesn't have a computer. Has no use for it and if she wants to talk, she'll just call. I appreciate her old school ways. But she is not all together out of touch with what I write. My family gets news back to her with rapid fire speed. So, she called immediately when a family member read about current bout of the common cold.

"Honey, I wish I could be there to look after you," she said.

Truth be told, my mother is the only person I would want to look after me. I've had lovely friends offer to make me soup and help during this week. Well meaning, but I was actually too sick to be around people. To even listen to them. I'm a little like Pepper, my first cat.

Pepper walked out of the wild, onto our back step and into our lives when I was five or six. She was a good kitty that never fully lost her wild side. After all, you can take a cat out of the wild but you can't take the wild out of the cat. One day, after years of happy domestication with the MacLeod clan of Clear Creek, Ontario, she disappeared.

My dad found her dead behind the drywall in our garage. She was sick and found a hole in the wall to crawl into, hide and die. One might lament this event. Why didn't Pepper come to us? We could have taken care of her. But I understood.

Sometimes you just have to go it alone.

Sometimes something comes along and the only way to deal with it is to revert to your wild side. Domestic house cat politeness is simply not possible. Sometimes you just have to be miserable and cranky and not at all civil.

The only kind of person you'll let see that aspect of you is a mother. The only kind of person that will put up with that is a mother, too.

Alright, now I'm going to crawl back into my apartment and have a cat fight with this cold.


  1. I'll be the first to admit that I'm no Sherlock Holmes.

    But you say your cat - who came from the wild and refused to be fully domesticated - found a hole in the drywall and "crawled" into it to die. And then your dad, a carpenter with extensive drywall experience, just happened to be the one that found her.

    If you say so.

  2. Just when I thought I was good and done with therapy.

  3. Why was there never a "Salt"?


Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...