Part One...Growing up as a child, my first experience with death was my beloved orange striped cat, Tomboy. Since we lived in an apartment, we could not have a dog, but a cat was OK. This cat was my best friend and he would sleep with me every night under the covers to keep me warm.
When he got sick, momma and Ben, my third step-father, took him off to who knows where? There was no money for a vet. I watched from the third floor apartment stairway crying as they took him down the stairs and out the door. I never saw him again. My heart was broken. It was horrendous seeing him hauled off as he yowled in fear fighting for his life. I was ten years old and that memory has stayed with me all my life. To this day, the death of a beloved pet hurts as much as it did then.
2 comments:
My mother wasn't an animal person either. If a pet got sick she had a way of making it disappear. Once she got my brother in law to drown some kittens. I was devastated. But a couple of days later I heard the cry of kitten in the woods. The mother had managed to revive one and carried her off. My sisters and I secretly cared for it but she found out and made it disappear.
Some things are not hereditary... I am animal lover and the thought of hurting one is beyond my imagination. I'm grateful for that.
Hey Dawn, thanks for the post...I wonder if your mother and mine were related? Ha Ha...my mother smashed the heads of little kittens when she was a girl, and actually told me about it. Pretty sick...she tried to smash me a few times in my life, but I got her back because I survived!
Did you see the veeps debate? I just saw the tail end...
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