The Truth About Pickles

The stress of the week is getting to us. Not only has school started, which began a major change in Olivia’s life, Alyssa headed off to third grade as if she owned the school. She came home to my mom’s every day full of joy and excitement. She watched a little television, at a few snacks (seriously, a few, not just one, not just two, but several snacks) then she headed outside to play with Pickles, the stray cat that took up residence in my mom’s backyard.

No matter how often Prissy, my mom’s big house cat, tried to run him off, Pickles appeared here to stay.

Until Wednesday, when Papa drove off with Pickles toward his (Papa’s, not the cat’s) brother’s house. There, Pickles found his forever home. He will grow up with another kitten for a brother, a border collie for a friend and all the cows a cat can want to avoid.

Alyssa was devastated. She cried all evening. Even after being promised a visit to Pickles this weekend, she couldn’t make the tears stop.

She sobbed, “It’s not fair! First my fish dies and then Pickles is taken away from me.”

She blamed Papa for taking Pickles away. She blamed Gram for letting Papa take Pickles away. She blamed Tom for not letting Pickles come live with us. The only one she didn’t blame was me because she sort of knew that if it were completely up to me, I’d have caved and let Pickles come home with us. I think pets are good for kids. Do I WANT a pet? Not really, but I know how much she wants one and so I’d have let her have him.

But I also know that Tom is adamant against pets, especially inside pets, and so I stand by him, even if I don’t really feel as strongly as he does about not having a pet. Plus, I plan to work on him in the coming years and hope to convince him to go for getting her a pet for her tenth birthday. It could happen.

So I hugged her often last night. I patted her back and agreed that it’s not fair. I brushed her hair out of face and gave her tissues. I promised her that we’d see Pickles often and reminded her that he’s now at a home where he won’t get beaten up by Prissy, nor is he at risk of getting hit by a car as he would have been at our house.
I told her that at his new house, he gets to go inside to get away from the rain, he gets to eat yummy kitten food instead of Prissy’s cat food. He’ll be loved and cared for and he’ll still be close enough to visit.

I assured her that he won’t forget her.

Just before we left my mom’s with Alyssa in tears, my mom asked her, “Would you rather I lied to you and just said that he disappeared?”

Alyssa sobbed, “No, I’m glad you told me the truth. But I miss him.”

Oh Sweetie, life can be so hard. The truth is often so very, very hard.
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But then it gets better. My mom took Alyssa to see Pickles the day after he was taken to his new home. When Alyssa got back from her visit with the kitten, she was bounding with joy.

“He remembered me!” she gasped with joy. “He even gave me high five, just like I taught him to do.”

My mom reported that when they got to Fred’s (the brother-in-law who adopted Pickles) house, Pickles was on the porch with his new little brother. When he saw Alyssa and she called out to him, he bounded off the porch and ran to her, letting her hold him and snuggle him.

This morning, after a good night’s sleep, Alyssa said wistfully, “Pickles seems really happy at Fred’s house. At least now he’s not being beaten up by Prissy. He and his little brother just play together instead of fighting.”

My girl is growing up. She’s learning that sometimes, you have to let go even when you don’t want to because it’s best for the other creature that you do let go.

Obviously I could learn a lot from my sweet, sweet eight year old daughter.