Shortly after my divorce, I made an impulse purchase. It saved me
Shortly after my divorce, I made an impulse purchase. This is not unusual for me; just the other day I arrived home with a new top when I had just popped out for milk. This was, however, the first time my impulse purchase had a pulse.
I bought a pet. Well, I rescued a pet, but even a rescue pet costs money. There are vaccinations to administer, adoption fees to pay, paraphernalia to acquire, and then an entire set of furniture to replace the upholstered chairs destroyed by your new pet.
Penny was not the brightest cat, but she was our cat.Credit: Shutterstock
I did not get a dog. I like dogs, but the thought of having to walk, wash and groom a pet gives me a sense of overwhelming fatigue. I already have three kids. I need a self-cleaning, self-exercising, self-toileting pet, one that offers maximal cuddling value with minimal input. It was either a lizard or a cat. I chose a cat.
I’d wanted a cat for years, but I’d been married to a man who was violently allergic to felines. When our kids were very little we’d compromised and adopted some bunnies. But, like our marriage, they did not survive. (Unlike our marriage, a neighbourhood fox was strongly implicated in their demise.)
A couple of weeks after the kids and I settled into our new home, I suddenly realised I was no longer constrained by my ex-husband’s sneezes. Within minutes, I was on the phone to the local vet, enquiring about abandoned litters. Within an hour, I was at the vet’s with the kids, debating which of two adorable kittens we liked best. We chose the smaller of the pair, for no particular reason, and called her Princess Penelope Fancypants.
In hindsight, I may have been overexcited.
Penny fitted perfectly into our family. I am not one to call a pet a “fur baby” or “fluffy child” – Penny is very much a cat, not a human. Still, like my three human kids, she is a picky eater, small, and prone to running in circles at random moments. Unlike my three human kids, she regularly poops on the bathmat, licks her own stomach and drinks water from the toilet bowl.
“She’s the best cat,” the kids say – and honestly, she isn’t. Penny isn’t very bright. If I move her food bowl even slightly, she can’t find it and wanders off in disappointment. She chews all our furniture but has ignored every cat toy I’ve bought her. And when she ventures outside, she inevitably gets stuck on the boundary fence and meows pitifully for help. We’ve lived here for 11 years now, and she still hasn’t figured how to get down. Sometimes, she tries to get into the neighbour’s apartment, and they have to politely explain to her that she’s in the wrong place.
Still, we adore her. Penny rescued the kids and I when we were floundering in the aftermath of divorce. She helped us create a new family unit. She completed our circle.
One of the great benefits of having pets is the joy they bring to visitors. Other people’s pets, I mean. Not Penny. My friend’s pets jump on me, lick me, rub against my legs and generally make me feel welcome. Penny takes one look at visitors, turns on her heels, and races to hide under the nearest bed.
Penny was a great comfort in the early days of my singledom. She slept beside me for years, helping to ease my transition to sleeping alone.
KERRI SACKVILLE
Still, she’s loyal. The first time my ex-husband entered our apartment, he came face to face with Penny in our daughter’s room. She took one look at him, made a retching noise, and pooped all over the blue shag rug. It was hell to clean up, but it was very entertaining.
And Penny was a great comfort to me in the early days of my singledom. She slept beside me every night for years, helping to ease my transition to sleeping alone. I loved feeling the rise and fall of her chest and her warm, purring body as we drifted into sleep.
I less enjoyed her kneading her claws into my back at two in the morning, or taking a frenzied, inexplicable dash around the bedroom at 5am. When she began biting my face at odd hours (and let me tell you, it’s not pleasant to be woken by small teeth clamping around your nose) she was banished to a pillow outside my door.
When I met my partner, Penny and my kids all had to adjust to his presence. After nearly a decade without a man around, all were naturally suspicious of this tall intruder. There were raised eyebrows when he arrived (the kids), sudden retreats into bedrooms (the kids and the cat), and cautious sniffing around his legs (just Penny).
In time, my kids became comfortable around my partner. Still, it wasn’t until Penny gave him her stamp of approval, by climbing onto his lap for the first time, that we could all truly relax.
Penny might not be the best cat. She might not be the brightest cat. But she is ours, she is family, and the best impulse purchase I’ve made.
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