My Mum's Funeral Was Yesterday

[Snowshoe]

Some of you already know my Mum passed away if you read my Inflammatory Bowel thread on Oban. But I thought I’d tell you a bit about Mum, she is likely responsible for my own love of animals.

It’s Mum who brainwashed me into my love of black cats. When I was three and we were about to move to our own (Mum’s only) house she said many times we’d get a black cat and a black dog. Amazingly a week after we moved in a stray black cat showed up. She stayed and we called her Tabby. Mum thought Tabby was the word for a female cat but she was solid black.

People didn’t spay and neuter back then and when Tabby had kittens Mum dragged my four year old self out of bed to witness the miracle of birth. I was not much impressed and then, when Tabby ate the afterbirth, I became very distraught, thinking something had gone wrong. Poor Mum spent the time till she could finally get me back to sleep trying to explain to me and assure me Tabby would still be alive the next morning. I didn’t believe her and cried myself to sleep. That sure backfired.

Mum taught me by example to grieve for our pets when Tabby was hit by a car. Tabby was the first of many to be buried in a little patch of yard, our own pet cemetery.

The dog wasn’t black. My father brought home two puppies, we got the brown one, the next door neighbours got the black and white one. I was about four and a half. I remember when Teddy was grown and I guess I was five, I sprayed him full in the face with the garden hose on full blast. Teddy bit my thumb. I can still see Mum retaliating and dealing with Teddy in the way it was done back then, he got a thrashing and was put back on his chain. The thrashing she gave me was not quite so strong but I got one too.

Mum was a teenager in the Great Depression. My grandfather was a farmer and Mum says they didn’t suffer from lack of food or work as some did but life was hard. Grandpa farmed with horses of course, he did all his life and the team when I was alive were grade draft horses called Barney and Peggy. In Mum’s teenage years one horse was blind but she could plough and work when hitched to a team mate. Blind Nell was Mum’s horse. Nell stepped in a groundhog hole and broke her leg. She had to be shot and poor Mum had to lead her horse, hobbling on three legs, into a depression so Grandpa could do the deed. Years later when Mum told me this she still cried.

As farm kids Mum, her brother and two sisters greatly enjoyed the young farm animals. Baby piglets are cute as the dickens, lambs cavort, calves needed feeding by the pail and foals were creatures of grace and awkwardness that could be watched forever. But piglets go to market, male calves too, and lambs and chickens meet an end useful to the family but hard on the hearts of young farm kids who fall for them all over again when they appear the next spring. Kittens and puppies simply disappeared and after a while the kids figured that out. Still, knowing there would be an end to their lives, Mum would love them.

A Mother’s Day outing for Mum was a visit to farms near me that had foals. Standardbreds just down the road from me, a friend’s Clydesdales around the corner. She told me she enjoyed this far more than the fancy Sunday brunch at a golf course that my BIL arranged for Mum and Sis.

It’s my Mum’s fault I have this urge to help out all the darn stray cats. Mum made Polio Vaccine at a company that made human and animal health products, including rabies vaccine and had a whole farm property with animals at the back. I worked there four summers in Media and when I went in one morning I found a kitten in my back room. Now, this could have been dangerous. If it came from the back of the farm who knows what diseases it could have or spread. Nevertheless my boss kept quiet, we fished it out from the radiator it crawled into to hide in terror when people trooped in to work and Mum and I smuggled it out at the end of the day and Timothy John came to live with us.

Another cat we took in because Mum intervened was an orange and white one we knew from his visits to our yard. One day he was tossed into a moving van next door, he jumped right back out and streaked for cover in our backyard. Mum went over and said we’d take him to the incredulous, relieved and thankful owners who had tried to find him a home before they moved. It was an apartment building next door so we didn’t know who owned the cat. Thus arrived Tommy.

My first cat in my married life was Twitchie, named by Mum, and I had her for seven years at Mum’s house before I got my own house. Even though my girlfriend would come to look after Twitch when we went on vacation Mum would insist on coming up several times as well, from a much greater distance, just to make sure for herself that Twitchie was ok.

Mum suffered from some dementia and limited mobility and did not enjoy her last year in Long Term Care. She lost interest in a lot of things formerly very important to her but she was “with it” and responsive when I showed her photos and movie clips on my phone of these kittens we found, of which we still have two. She’d smile and make appropriate comments and even ask me about them. Surprised the heck out of me how much good they did her. Although she did express her concern to my sister that we would end up keeping all of them.

If Sis and I went too long without taking our dogs in to visit Mum would complain to us. I used to love to ask Oban if he wanted to visit Grandma when we were about to go down. No doubt at all about his answer, he’d stick by the door to make sure I didn’t forget to take him. His Grandma called him a holy terror when he was a wee thing and was left with her for puppy sitting one night but she loved him and he loved her, as all our dogs have done. Oban is going to miss his Grandma.

Mum was dearly beloved by both my and my sister’s previous dogs, Jet and Laddie. We were bemused the time the five of us went to the park where Mum had her garden plot. Sis and I intended to walk the dogs while Mum weeded. Uh, uh, no way, said the dogs and they both stayed by their Grandma and watched her while Sis and I walked anyway, alone. At my house the same thing happened on a couple of walks down the trail. Grandma would decide to turn around and go home and the dogs would act like Sis and I didn’t exist and turn around and go back with her.

………………………………………………

I know this is long. I just felt the need to write up my own little tribute and in an area that is dear to my heart; my pets and other animals. There is lots more I could have written where my Mum and animals are concerned. Mum was nearly 96 so she had a long time to make an impression on me and to love her animals and our animals, the ones on the farm, all animals. You know the saying, if there aren’t animals in heaven then I don’t think Mum will have wanted to go there. But I think there are.

[Ruger's Mom]

I'm so sorry for your loss. Prayers are with you & your family.

[4Thelove]

Beautiful tribute-

[Kleb]

That was a wonderful tribute to your Mom. Sorry to hear of her passing.

[kelsyg]

Sorry for the loss of your mother. That was a nice tribute to her.

[ZRabbits]

Thank you so much for sharing that beautiful tribute to your Mum. What a lovely trait that your Mum passed on to you, the love and respect of an animal. Best life lesson for a child, that lasts a lifetime.

Again my heartfelt condolence for the loss of this strong, loving mentor in your life. Great role model, IMHO.

KAZ

[bett]

sorry for your loss. but you have wonderful memories to comfort you.

[3muttsketeers]

I'm so sorry for your loss. What a beautiful and fitting tribute to your mother.

[Macy]

Very sorry for your loss. Your tribute was lovely.

[LucyTudeOn4Feet]

I didn't catch this in your other thread. I'm so sorry for your loss. Your Mom sounds like a wonderful lady. You'll never stop missing her.
(((Hugs)))