~Pets & Life Management~

By WordWulf, 16th Feb 2011 | Follow this author | RSS Feed | Short URL http://nut.bz/141p-z-i/
Posted in Wikinut>Writing>Personal Experiences

~Contemplating critters~mother gone to the faraway~laughable job interviews~cats & dogs & snakes & bugs~an iguana in the bathtub~its tail broke off~

~Pets & Life Management~

Pondering the ‘L’ word

A few years ago I applied to manage a Pet Smart store. The interview was interesting, if a bit unnerving, as it was conducted by an HR person and a dozen or so of the associates who would be working for me. They queried and beat me up a bit concerning scheduling issues, Saturdays, Sundays and nights. Having previously worked in retail management, this line of questioning didn’t surprise me. I assured all those in the room I would work my share of the odd hours and expected them each to do the same.

The HR lady asked me if I had pets. Without thinking I replied that I was a single parent raising five children. The room exploded in laughter and I thought, ‘Man, these people are strange.’
The HR lady, sensing my confusion, said with a smile, “You don’t consider your children to be pets, do you?”

I chuckled a bit myself at that. “No, that’s not what I meant. When you raise five kids you find yourself dealing with every imaginable pet, from black widows and tarantulas to iguanas, boa constrictors and, of course, raccoons, skunks and dogs and cats.

“What pets do you have at this time?” the lady asked.

“Wulf, a malamute husky, Felix, a tiger cat and a garden snake named Slinky,” I replied.

“Do you love them?” a chunky young lady asked.

That, being an unexpected question, caused me to ruminate a bit, not a good thing to do in a job interview. They waited for my answer, patiently scrutinizing me. Finally I replied, “I love my children, haven’t really thought about loving a pet. I like ‘em a lot or I wouldn’t keep ‘em around.”

I sat at the front of the room staring into faces full of prying eyes. “I suppose there are varying degrees of love,” I continued uncomfortably, “On a scale of one to ten my children own the number one space, always have. Relatives and friends come next. Guess I could give the pets a ten.” I continued to speak to the prying eyes, digging a hole for myself. I said too much, went in too deep, not a good thing to do in a job interview.

I idolized my mother, her strength and resolve, followed her to a far Wyoming ranch when she and my stepdad retired. She had four dogs and thirteen cats, dearly loved them all. I watched her pamper them and asked her one day how she could love them so differently and completely than she did her own children and grandchildren. “They’ll never disappoint me,” she replied immediately, “They won’t judge me either. They’ll accept me with my false teeth and wrinkles, my odd ways.”

I had to leave that red dirt ranch, had to take my children away from my abusive stepfather and Momma’s sad truth. A few years later my children and I went for a visit. I had grandchildren by then. We made a merry gypsy caravan, circled our wagons and camped out in the yard. I never got much of a chance to be a kid when I was a kid but had a good time being one with my kids. I ain’t never gonna grow up. Well, Momma got upset because the little ones caught frogs and put them in the horse trough. Ranting and raving, she called them a bunch of little MFers.

My oldest son, not one to fight with his grandmother, began packing his things. He was also not one to stand idly by while his son was referred to as a little MFer because he caught frogs. Momma sat angrily in the living room, a dog in her lap and two at her feet. A maverick calf she was mothering bawled from the yard for its morning milk and loving caresses. I gathered them up, all my children, and returned to Colorado.

I care deeply for my Cinder Dawg and Bubba Catt. I imagine Momma watching me from that other place, that dead place, her spirit smiling. Children grown, I’m a bit closer to these animals than I was to pets in the past. Our life was hard, Momma, and I understand now what I didn’t then. Whatever it takes, we have to keep ourselves connected and real. My children had much better childhoods than my siblings and me, in a large part because of your teaching, suffering and sharing.

There’s a stone in my pocket given to me by my youngest son, Zedidiah. He picked it up in the parking lot when he was five-years-old while we were waiting for the school bus to take him away to kindergarten. “Hear it, Daddy,” he said, cuddling the stone to his ear. “Its spirit is breathing. It is special, warm and alive.”

I love that stone.

~Tom (WordWulf) Sterner~
~Taking Daddy Home~
~Farewell Captain Charlie~
~The Boy & the Wulf~

Meet the author

WordWulf
Tom Sterner lives in Redding, California and Arvada, Colorado with wife Kathy. He has been published in numerous magazines and on the internet, including Howling Dog Press/Omega, Skyline Literary Review, The Storyteller, and Flashquake. His interne...(more)