The whole world is going through a huge transition period as we adjust to living with coronavirus (I’m sick of the word)… But what’s strange is that this external shift seems to have triggered a huge re-evaluation of our personal lives.
Sitting in the silence of isolation, we decided to move to Spain, start a family, fuck that boy off, buy the car, get the dog, quit the job.
Our collective strength has been truly dazzling to witness.
What we, the masses, could be capable of if we set our intentions is
mind-blowing. Just a (woke) thought.
Note: All of the decisions listed above are real and were made
by myself or someone I love during lockdown (not naming any names). Of course,
one I can claim is ‘get the dog’. My little Willow has been home now for almost
a month now, and she’s a dream.
I wanted to tell you about what it’s like trying to create
(force) a blended family of dogs and cats…
We lost our furry sister Melody on the 7th
February. For so many, that earth-shattering loss is enough to put them off
ever getting another dog, but I shared the purest love with Melody for 13 years.
Why would I deprive myself of love because I was scared of loss? Very deep and
very Shakespeare-esque, I know. And even though I pose this argument, I still
cried all the way home from Wales the day I chose Willow.
While I endured an excruciating 5-week wait to pick her up,
I read a lot about puppies. I learned some things, was reminded of others, and also
had to wade through a lot of scare-mongering shit about how ‘some cats will
NEVER learn to accept a dog’.
Now. I knew Sylvester and Atlas wouldn’t be best pleased,
but they fight, they hunt and they’re confident boys. I knew they’d show Willow
her place and teach her to live alongside them. All I could think of was Tiger
Lily.
If you know me, you know Tiger Lily has a special place in
my heart. My mum calls her ‘Princess Tiger Lily’ to tease her, but that’s just because
she’s my best girl.
Tiger Lily is the epitome of the term ‘scaredy cat’. She took
months to adapt to moving from Nottingham. She still refuses to use the catflap
because of the noise it makes. She trusts nobody but me.
I was right to be worried. The night Willow came home, Sylvester
retreated to the top of the fridge. Atlas hissed and spat from the top of the
sofa. Tiger Lily… disappeared. For days. Eventually I was so upset I locked
Willow in my room and walked down the road shouting her name like a real crazy
cat lady. I did this every day for a week.
What made my heart ache even more was that every day, she
came. She ran to me, meowing, so trusting even after such an awful betrayal. She’d
rub against me, purr when I picked her up and follow me all the way back to the
house. But no further. She ate her meat on the decking and she wouldn’t stay around
for long.
One day, the storms came. My head was aching as I worked in
the dining room and then, out of nowhere, thunder cracked the sky open and the
heavens opened. Straight away, I felt sick. Tiger Lily hadn’t been in the house
for well over a week by this point. I walked outside in the rain and shouted
for her, and like every day, she came. She was wet through (and shouting about
it).
She followed me all the way back to my car and took shelter
underneath it. She wouldn’t come any further. She meowed harder. It felt like
she was saying ‘please tell me it’s gone because I’m so cold and I really want
to come home.’ I looked at her drenched little face under that car that day and
I started to cry. I’ll be honest, I really thought I’d fucked it.
This was the breaking point for me, Willow and Tiger Lily.
In that moment, a sense of calm came over me. I realised I couldn’t let her
stay out here in the storm, no matter what. I went back inside and shut all the
windows, now soaked to the skin myself.
I walked back to the car, let her rub her tiny head on my
hand, and I managed to get hold of her and pull her into me. She was furious of
course, but I couldn’t let her punish herself any longer. I took her in to mum’s
room, gave her food and blocked the door. Then, I let Willow out.
…and do you know what? Tiger Lily went to sleep. For hours. She let me dry her and cuddle her in that time and didn’t even attempt to go back outside until the following day.
That night, I woke to the sound of purring beside my head,
and I started to cry again (I’m a wettie, do keep up). Willow’s crate is beside
my bed, and Tiger Lily was so happy to be home she didn’t care.
Here we are, two more weeks down the line and all the cats will
walk past Willow without fear (but not without the occasional bop on the head
when she gets too rambunctious).
Which makes me wonder – do those people who end up rehoming
their cat or new puppy really care? Or have they just not invested enough
time, energy and love in to making it work? I don’t know the answer, all I know
is I’m so thankful that my babies are happy and safe. They truly make my life a
brighter place.
