Illustration by Marley Allen-Ash
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For years I’ve read articles and listened to stories on how companion animals can reduce people’s blood pressure, calm prison inmates and even give others the will to live. But I’ve never seen the effects in person. Until my mother met our cat.
When my father became ill, I flew from the West Coast back to my prairie home. Since my stay would be lengthy, I decided to leave my husband Paul at home and bring along Farfinu – Farfy for short – the calico cat.
Mom welcomed her with warmth and affection, the same way she welcomed any of her grandchildren.
“She’s a lot easier than a grandchild,” Mom whispered, and then winked. “The only off-limits places are the tables,” she added. “I don’t like cats up on tables or countertops.”
“Sure, Mom, whatever you say.” Why mention that none of this would be my decision? Establishing house rules was up to our nine-year-old cat.
After my father’s funeral, I worried about leaving my mother alone in our now-empty family home. I saw a look of panic on her face when I started to pack the cat’s bowl.
“Wouldn’t kitty rather stay with me?” she asked, wringing her hands.
I also saw how happily the cat settled into her new routine. I decided then and there that kitty wouldn’t be going anywhere.
He was so much more than ‘just a cat’
Paul and I missed our cat fiercely, although we felt better knowing that Mom wasn’t alone. Turns out Farfy had a generous “grandmother” who bought a $700 cat enclosure for the backyard.
“Mom! You spent $700?”
“Yes, it’s for her 10th birthday, dear.”
“Mom, you’ve never spent $700 on my birthday!” I said, watching my husband shake his head when I covered the phone to tell him the news.
“Don’t take it personally, dear. I’ve never spent $700 on anyone’s birthday. Until kitty.” Mom made special treks to a pet store where she purchased brand-name products. She insisted I stop sending money for Farfy’s food and vet checkups.
“I’m the one getting pleasure from her, so why should you pay anything?”
Despite arguing with her, I couldn’t prevail against a determined elder with a kind heart.
Mom’s heart was both kind and unhealthy. For two decades she suffered from debilitating bouts of angina. One April day, she drove herself to the emergency room and soon endured bypass surgery. Again I flew home and stayed with Farfy while Mom spent a month in hospital. Throughout her pain, both before and after surgery, Mom was a brave and uncomplaining patient. Although still weak, she was anxious to return home and sleep in her own bed.
Cherry blossoms lined the neighbourhood streets when my brother and I brought her home from the hospital. After helping Mom up the front steps and onto the living room couch, Farfy trotted out to greet us. After one glimpse of the stretching cat, my mother began to cry. They were the only tears I witnessed during a difficult struggle to regain her health. And she admits that no number of needles, throat tubes, pain or anxiety had made the tears flow – until the sight of our cat.
The goose that brought us together
This was the moment when I realized how precious Farfy had become. This was also the moment when I realized that Farfy might never live with us again, unless my mother could no longer look after her.
When I asked how kitty was doing during my phone calls home, Mom answered, “She’s a dear wee soul, and I don’t know what I’d do without her.”
At some point, Farfy also gained free run of all tabletops. During one of my visits, I found Farfy stretched across an open newspaper on the kitchen table as Mom craned her neck to read around her. Later, I watched our cat snooze contentedly next to a flower-filled vase on the dining-room table.
“Leave her be, she’s not dirty,” Mom called out when I started to take Farfy off the fur-coated tablecloth. “She loves smelling the flowers. And when guests come over, I put on a fresh cloth.” Then Mom surprised me with, “I sure hope I don’t die before kitty. What will happen to her?”
“Mom, we’ll come and get her, and take her home with us. You don’t have to worry about anything.”
We never had to retrieve Farfy. She stayed with my mom for seven pampered years, dying a few years ahead of Mom. Every story my mother reminisced about our cat evoked smiles or laughter.
As for those articles on how companion animals are good for people’s physical and mental health, I don’t need more evidence. I have all the proof with my mother and our shared cat.
Shannon Kernaghan lives in Edmonton.