My Four-Legged Children

            I’m at the age now where people tend to look surprised if I mention wanting children. Either that or they just assume that since I am thirty-five and don’t have any, I must have made the choice not to. You hear about a woman’s biological clock “ticking” and I’d have to admit that I’ve heard that pesky sound ringing in my head more than a few times, especially over the last couple years. But for me, the desire to one day have a baby comes and goes.

            It’s not that I don’t enjoy children. The sad truth is that I probably enjoy them more than I enjoy most adults. When I’m lucky enough to hold the newborn baby of a friend or relative, my heart melts and I feel like I could hold the little angel forever. If someone had asked me ten years ago if I planned to have children in the future, I wouldn’t have hesitated in saying yes. If only I were twenty-five again, maybe I would have planned things a little differently.

            As clueless as I was as a teenager, the one thing I was sure of was that I didn’t want to come home and have to tell my mother that I had gotten pregnant. Luckily, I succeeded in living my teen years with reckless abandon and not turning my mom into a young grandmother in the process. A couple of decades have past and here I am; all grown up and settled down with the subject of children weighing heavily on my mind.

It’s hard to know when and if there is ever a “right time” to have children. The scary part is that when you get to be in your thirties, there’s definitely the pressure not only to decide but to make it happen before you get too much older. 

Some say it’s wise to live with your partner before getting married. It’s a great way to get to know your significant other on a deeper level and to be prepared for what your future together will be like. Well, when it comes to children, how do you prepare? Get yourself a cat. I’m kidding of course. One should never purchase or adopt animals for any reason other than to love them and provide a good life for them. Owning a pet is a life-long commitment. In that sense, they are definitely like children.

I was twenty years old and living in my first apartment when I decided to get a cat; not to prepare me for future children but to embrace my new found freedom. I was born an animal lover so I couldn’t have been more excited. At that age, I guess I didn’t realize the importance of adopting, so I went to a few pet shops looking for the perfect kitten. I held a few of the squirmy, little stinkers and they all scratched and wiggled to get away. Then I asked to see the skinny, long-haired tabby with the big ears. The moment I got her in my hands she laid back, exposed her belly, and purred. 

She was such a sweetheart. She trusted and loved me instantly and the feeling was mutual. That was over fifteen years ago now and I still remember it so clearly. Sometimes a person, or in this case a cat, will enter your life and end up meaning so much to you that the memory of that first day becomes significant and unforgettable.

I enjoyed her kitten years. It was like having a new baby in the house. Zowie – pronounced like Bowie (as in David Bowie), was full of energy. She used her claws to climb up my pants, while I was still in them, and decided she would be my alarm clock at all hours of the night. She loved to play and certainly loved getting into any trouble she could find.

For the first time in my life, I was responsible for ‘someone’ other than myself. Her charming little meows reminded me every morning that she needed to be fed. Spontaneous weekend trips or late nights out had to be planned around who would take care of her. I had to clean up her messes. She was always costing me money. I swear, it was like I had a child.

But the rewards of having her in my life far outweighed any gripe I had. Her favorite thing to do was curl up next to me every night when I went to bed. She loved to follow me around and chase anything I waved in front of her. Her happiness seemed to revolve around simply being near me. When I got home from work every day, she’d come running just as fast as she could to greet me. Wherever I went next, there she was smiling and purring, as happy as can be. She brought so much joy to my life.

When my best friend and I moved out of that apartment and into new, separate residences, Zowie was right there with me, ready to embark on our next journey. I never considered her to be “just a pet”; therefore, moving somewhere that she couldn’t follow was never an option. When you have a child, getting rid of them or getting tired of having them around is not only ludicrous, but I would think unfathomable. I felt the same way about my girl, so wherever I went, so did she.

My Zowie Girl

From the time I was twenty years old to the time I turned thirty two, I had grown up in so many ways. I lost some friendships along the way, had a few different boyfriends, a couple roommates, and lived alone a couple times. I had good times, bad times, lonely times, but throughout it all, there was one thing that stayed the same. Zowie was always there.

At the end of every day, whether I was full of smiles or tears, she gave me unconditional love, pure and true. In my life, I’ve found that kind of love to be pretty rare among humans. People are all so different and those who aren’t animal lovers or pet owners probably can’t comprehend having such a strong connection with an animal, but for those who are, comparing them to children is quite understandable.

Almost four years ago, Zowie and I took our last adventure together when we moved to Oregon. We were here for about a year before she became sick and I found out that she had cancer. I spent the last of her days trying to comfort her until the day that I had to set her free; a day that I’ll remember as clearly as the day I met her, for as long as I live.

I have two other cats now. I found my boy Simba -also known as “The Orange Bastard”-in the bushes at an old job I had in California. He was tiny and in pretty bad shape when I found him. Fleas covered every square inch of him, his ears were full of mites, and he was underweight. It was clear that he had been abandoned. He was so happy to be saved and fed. He drove Zowie crazy for the last few years of her life. He had a great time being a little brother and trying to ride on his sister’s back as she ran down the hall. I yelled profanities in an attempt to make him stop but it never fazed him.

Cooper & The Orange Bastard, aka Simba

Now he’s a few years older and has a little brother of his own named Cooper, who now drives him a little crazy. When Simba’s little green eyes look to me for help, I laugh and tell him that “payback’s a bitch.” Those boys are always chasing each other up and down the stairs, knocking things off tables, making messes, acting like children, and let me tell you, they drive their mother crazy. But of course, I love the little shits.

            I’ve learned a lot about responsibility and love over the years thanks to my animals. A little over a year ago, I adopted a dog and what I didn’t learn about “motherhood” from my cats, I’ve most certainly learned from him. Maynard, (named after the front man for the band Tool), is my little seven pound dog, and yes, my baby.

            I adore this little dog more than words can say. He demands every second of my time and truly defines what it is to love someone. He is more devoted than any pet I have ever known. Well, that may not exactly be true, but he’s certainly the most obvious about it. His “job” is to be as close to me as he can at all times, and to keep the feline stepbrothers as far away as possible. Of course, I don’t agree with this behavior but I get where he’s coming from, and I’m touched. I’m also touched when Maynard, who loves bones and treats even more than the next dog, will save and guard one for hours if I have to leave; all because he just can’t seem to enjoy it if his mother is not there to watch him eat it.

            To say that Maynard isn’t the sharpest tool in the shed is probably putting it mildly. I still can’t get him to sit on command, he tries to chase cars as they go by, likes to poop on bushes and curbs, and barks at anyone and everyone he sees. He embarrasses and infuriates me from time to time but I love him more than life itself. I’ve had such an amazing time having this little creature in my life and I wouldn’t trade him for the world.

            As time goes on and that clock starts ticking louder and louder, I try to reassure myself that it won’t be the end of the world if I don’t have children. There’s really no telling what will happen but one thing is for certain. Whether or not my family grows in the future, I am already blessed with three great kids; they’re furry and they have four legs.