Annual shopping trip with Mama Bear

One of the buys from today

For the last eight years, my mom has taken me shopping for new clothes as a birthday gift. It works out perfectly. My birthday is the first week of January, so we shop a few days after Christmas when sales are INSANE. She always tells me a dollar amount limit before the day starts, so I know how to budget throughout the day. It's a super fun challenge. We come up with a list of stores and are on our way.

This afternoon, she was to pick me up at 11:00am. I texted her at 10:00am and asked that she get here closer to noon (I love my sleep). I went back to dreamland. The next thing I know, the doorbell is ringing, the dogs are barking, and my alarm clock reads 11:57. FUCK.

I open the door at 11:58. "I slept in."

My mom is on the phone with her best friend and mouths, "No problem."

I shower, dry my hair, and get dressed in 30 minutes, and we are on our way.

We shopped for four hours, going to six stores. I asked her each time she swiped her Visa, "What's the total now?"

She laughed hysterically at me throughout the day. I have proportionately huge boobs, so shirts often fit me in a really odd way. She'd laugh, wipe her tears, and say, "Please, oh please, don't get that one!" If anyone else laughed at me like she did, I would feel judged, and my self-esteem would plummet. But Mumsy is different. We had a blast today.

I ended up being $5 over budget.

I love my mom so much. More than I could ever put into words.

The Cat

I'm seventeen.

It's a scorching afternoon in the middle of summer, with no breeze at all, and the freshly cut grass is tickling my bare legs. Sitting cross-legged in the front yard, watching my dad garden, I feel happy. He is weeding and asks me what flowers he should plant this year. I don’t know anything about gardening, and he knows it, so I roll my eyes. As I stretch out my legs, close my eyes, and lie back, I hear the snap of weeds breaking off the earth.

Something soft brushes against my leg. My eyes flutter open, and a long-haired, one-eyed cat is looking at me expectantly. It is mostly grey with white clumps of fur matted around its paws and neck.

“Hello, kitty.”

I spend the next few minutes giving the cat love—it walks across my lap and rubs against my legs—until my friend arrives, and I have to go.

...

Over the next few weeks, the cat finds me. Whether I am in the front yard, the back yard, or the garage, the cat is there. 

It's pouring rain today, and the poor cat is drenched. Why is this cat not at home? I will look after it until the rain dies down. I put the cat in the garage, walk out, close the door behind me, and go into the house. As I pull out a can of tuna from the pantry, my dad asks what I'm doing. I tell him I'll be with the cat. I don’t know when the rain will stop, so I grab a book, too, in case I am here for the long haul.

Together, the cat and I spend the next ten hours in the garage. Cat and I snuggle in a blanket; it purrs, I read. I feed the cat tuna and water. When the downpour finally stops, I go into the house but leave the garage door open, letting the cat linger until it is ready to go home.

...

The next day when I get home and walk in the back door, I’m not sure who is home. “Hello!” I yell.

My dad yells back, "Come see me for a minute!" I kick off my flip-flops, walk into the living room, and see he has the cat on his lap. My mind spins. Why is the cat inside? My parents have never allowed a furry animal inside. I have grown up with fish, turtles, tortoises, and lizards.

“Go look under the tortoise tank in the kitchen," Dad says.

I run to the kitchen. There, under the tank, are two small bowls. One is full to the brim with water, and the other contains hard cat food.

I run back to the living room. “Why do we have cat dishes?” I ask, dumbfounded.

Bootsy

“I asked around the neighbourhood, and it turns out this cat has no home. The owners left him when they moved. His name is Boots, and he is yours.”

I'm back

For the past couple of weeks, I have felt a little strange. I’m quiet and reflective, and I thought that meant I was sad. But this morning, a co-worker asked how I was doing, and the word “sad” didn’t quite fit… so I thought about it for a few minutes. 

The truth is I sort of lost myself for a few years. Post-secondary is just stressful in general. It’s hard to give yourself the attention you need when your brain is getting filled to the brim with knowledge, papers are frequently due, and midterms are always right around the corner.

Now that I’m done school and settled into my job, I have come back to myself in a way. For the last four years, I was going through the motions of living life, but I wasn’t really connected to myself in any real way, if that makes sense. My inner voice had been hushed for a very long time… and now it’s screaming!

So, the next time someone asks, “How are you?” I will tell them, I have never been better.

My two best pals

Three years ago, my boyfriend's mom took in a discarded puppy (the previous owners were getting a divorce, and neither of them wanted the poor thing). We told her not to do it because she already had a dog, cat, scorpion, tarantula, and snake. But she has a generous heart and cannot turn away an animal in need. When she went to go and pick up the puppy, my boyfriend and I waited at her house, talking about how silly this was and that the last thing she needed was another mouth to feed.

As soon as she got home with the puppy, I felt awful for telling her she shouldn't have rescued him. He was, quite honestly, the cutest little munchkin I had ever seen. Seven-month-old Charlie won me over immediately. He hopped, bounced, and zoomed around the house (all eight pounds of him) with a heart beating faster than I knew was possible.

Charlie

We bonded instantly. I had always been fascinated by dogs but knew little about them as I hadn't spent much time around them. Charlie changed all that. I could usually be found at my boyfriend's mom's house, snuggling and talking to Charlie. Sometimes, she let me bring him to my parents.

A few months after he arrived in my life, Chris's mom let me take Charlie home for a weekend sleepover. The weekend sleepovers went on for about a year. Eventually, I wouldn't return him on Sundays but on Tuesdays or Wednesdays instead. One day my boyfriend, his mom, and I were having lunch. My boyfriend asked if I could adopt Charlie. She hummed and hawed. She loved him too. But one month later, she let me keep him.

When my boyfriend and I bought a house, I was so excited Charlie would have a backyard to run around in and a home all to himself. We were a cozy family of three… until one year ago when I decided to foster a three-month-old black mutt who was found on a reserve. His name was Chance. It was supposed to be temporary. We were only going to look after him until someone wanted to adopt him, I swear. But my boyfriend and I fell in love with his sweet and even-tempered nature, so we adopted him.

Initially, I wasn't sure how to split my time and love between two dogs. I felt guilty that Charlie would have to share me. I thought it was unfair to Chance, our new puppy, that I would always love Charlie a little bit more. I needn't have worried. A few months passed, and one day I woke up and realized I loved them both the same.

Chance, shortly after he came into our home

My mood and their behaviour change multiple times per day, which means I often like one more, but I always love them equally. I didn't have to split my love for Charlie in half and share it with Chance. I love Charlie as much as I always have, and I love Chance equally. They mean the world to me and have taught me so much about myself. I have learned I am patient, loving, generous, affectionate, and a pushover.

Charlie and Chance

Charlie: Thank you for wagging your tiny tail, kissing my nose, and crying to be picked up every day when I get home from work. I love our snuggle sessions and how you crawl onto my chest and burrow your little face into my neck. I love how you are so good with my grandma. When you let me cry into your fur after a sad day, I am very aware of how fortunate I am to have you in my life. You can get away with anything because as soon as I look into your big brown eyes, my heart melts, and I can't help but think how perfect you are.

Chance: I love our hugs. I wrap my arms around you, and you rest your head on my shoulder, not moving until I am ready for the moment to be over. When I look into your soulful eyes and talk to you, I feel you understand me. You made me the happiest gal in the world the day you came into our home, walked over to me sitting on the floor, and crawled into my lap. You knew you were home, and so did I. You make me feel safe. I am so grateful for you.