The Warmth Of A Kindred Spirit That Shares Your Highs and Lows

 

Photos by Suzanne Currie

A Preamble to Today’s Post

The Glorious Warmth of a Kindred Spirit That Shares Your Highs and Lows

By Ted Currie

     Suzanne would undoubtedly agree with the self assessment that I am a needy fellow. In fact, a very needy chap, who can literally wind down to a standstill if something isn’t suitable to a particular need. Mostly, a creative need. I don’t think that as a creative obsessive that my needs are all that extraordinary, but Suzanne has been long-suffering in this area of our long and happy marriage. I hope it has been happy for her, but I do understand what a pain I can be, insisting on certain home adornment situations being perfect before I can, for example, sit down at this typewriter with what could turn out to be a three to four hour writing jag. As my mentor and research assistance, and did I mention copy editor, she realizes that it’s better to have me gainfully employed at this keyboard, versus pacing the floor, pouting, about the sudden change to the work environs here at Birch Hollow. For one thing, and this is my most important requirement of all the other minutia that makes me happy, and that is the constant companionship of one of the household pets. For instance, right now, in order to compose this little entry piece, into a Christmas “pet” story, I am listening to the snoring of our little canine companion, Muffin, sleeping soundly on the bedstead not far from the little nook where I have my desk situated. This could, at times, include one of our adopted cats, or our second rescue dog, Pooh Bear, who makes more grunting sounds than any animal we’ve ever housed before; but it doesn’t distract me in the least. If one or more of these residents were missing, I would be unable to write much of anything. It goes back, I suppose, to a time when, as a fledgling writer working for the community press, as a first full-time job, that I had an adopted cat named “Animal.” It was a rescue pet, and it became my closest ally back then; during a period when I had just been the proverbial heave-ho by a long-time girlfriend, and been forced, for the first time, to live alone with nothing but regrets and my hourly moaning about “why, oh why did she dump me at Christmas.”

     Animal was good company. I wasn’t a great pet owner because I’d never been responsible for one previously. I was gone for most of the work days, and often wrapped up newspaper work with a trip with mates to the local watering hole, guaranteeing I would not only be home irresponsibly late, for my cat’s social and dining needs, I would arrive in such a state that it would be only minutes before I was asleep on the sofa, with a cranked up stereo playing Pink Floyd. I did love that cat, and it did eventually come to my attention, that her presence in my work alcove at the McGibbon House, in Bracebridge, made me feel in good company; I have never functioned well on my own and as far as doing work this way, I don’t even make the attempt because I know how it well end. A failed effort and lots of balled up pieces of typewriter paper on the carpet.

     Today I am most contented here at Birch Hollow, when there is either a cat curled up on my lap, on my feet, or a dog or two in the vicinity, breathing heavily, giving the whole office thing a vitality that is most inspiring and continuous for as long as I need, to create whatever project I’m working on at the time. For this Christmas season, I plan to do a lot of writing here in this comfortable little office space, affording a wonderful panorama over The Bog, and being lulled into strange fictions and delicious other moods and ambitions, knowing that if I should need a break, for any reason including exhaustion or even frustration, a partial collapse onto the bedstead to cuddle-up to Muffin or Pooh Bear, will give me a jolt of glad tidings; enough with a short respite, to work another hour or two, to complete the assignment at hand. Two of our older rescue cats, Angus and Chutney have passed away this year, leaving us with Zappa and her mother Beasley, and boy oh boy do we feel the void because of this loss. We still have four pet residents here, but each one is old enough that we have no choice but to reckon with the inevitable. But here, right now, on the cusp of Christmas 2021, it’s only relevant that we are together for this time; in each other’s company for all it’s worth, and for Suzanne and I, well, it would be a truly hollow old homestead without the warming aura they bring to us every minute of every day we are in their kindly company. The story below is one of my favorites because it involves my first pet, living alone, and considering the fact, we were both recent victims of a cruel society. Animal, as a kitten, was thrown from a moving car, near our newspaper office on Dominion Street, in Bracebridge, nearly succumbing to her injuries, and I was an unwilling soloist in adult relations. I was dejected and isolated, and so was my creature friend. But we had a most interesting first Christmas together, without any pretense of being visited by anything more than the shared goodwill of the season. It was memorable, I believe, for both of us; and we ate like kings and queens, and purred and purred and purred into the silent night.

MY CHRISTMAS SOJOURN AT BRACEBRIDGE'S ALBION HOTEL - A WINTER'S EVE WITH AN "ANIMAL"

     TO BEGIN THIS HUMBLE, INTIMATE, TIME-WORN CHRISTMAS STORY, I MUST FIRST CLARIFY THAT I DIDN'T SPEND ALL OF CHRISTMAS EVE DROWNING MY SORROWS IN CHEAP DRAFT BEER, AT THE FORMER ALBION HOTEL....NOW A RUBBLE OF OLD BRICK, DOWN ON BRACEBRIDGE'S "MAIN STREET," OPPOSITE THE FORMER TRAIN STATION. THE "ANIMAL" I REFER TO, IN THE HEADING, WAS ACTUALLY THE NAME OF MY ADOPTED CAT. SOMEONE HAD DRIVEN BY THE HERALD-GAZETTE OFFICE, ON DOMINION STREET, TWO YEARS EARLIER, AND HURLED THE KITTEN ONTO THE TARMAC IN FRONT. IT USED TO HAPPEN THAT PEOPLE WHO DIDN'T WANT THEIR PETS ANY LONGER, FIGURED THAT THE NEWSPAPER OFFICE WAS THE PERFECT PLACE TO ABANDON THEM. THEY FIGURED WE'D PUT AN AD IN THE PAPER, OR WRITE A SAD STORY FOR THE FEATURE PAGES, AND SOMEONE WOULD COME IN TO ADOPT THE PARTICULAR DOG OR CAT. THERE WAS NO HUMANE SOCIETY OPERATION BACK THEN. IT HAPPENED SO FAST, I DIDN'T CATCH THE PLATE NUMBER, AND I WAS SO CONCERNED ABOUT RESCUING THE CAT FROM THE BUSY STREET, BEFORE IT GOT HIT, I COULDN'T EVEN RECALL THE MAKE OF THE CAR, OR ACCURATELY DESCRIBE THE PERSON, WHO SO INHUMANELY TOSSED IT OUT OF THE MOVING VEHICLE. I'VE ALWAYS BEEN A CAT LOVER, SO I WAS ALL OVER THAT LITTLE BEAST, IN THOSE FIRST FEW MOMENTS, TRYING TO DETERMINE WHAT INJURIES IT HAD SUSTAINED IN THE ROLL ALONG THE AS-

SPHALT.

     WELL, THE LITTLE FELLOW WAS A PRETTY BADLY SCRAPED-UP, BUT NOTHING APPEARED BROKEN, AND THERE WAS NO SERIOUS BLEEDING ANYWHERE I COULD DETECT. I TOOK IT TO THE VETERINARIAN, A FRIEND OF MINE, AND THE WORD WAS GOOD. THE KITTEN WOULD SURVIVE. SO OVER THE NEXT FOUR YEARS OR SO, WE WOULD BE PARTNERING IN MY SMALL APARTMENT AT THE MCGIBBON HOUSE; AND THEN FOR A FEW MORE YEARS WITH MY BRIDE SUZANNE, AT TWO RESIDENCES, ONE BEING OUR FIRST PURCHASED HOUSE, AT THE BOTTOM END OF QUEBEC STREET, BELOW THE FORMER BRACEBRIDGE HIGH SCHOOL. THIS IS THE HOUSE, I'M SORRY TO SAY, THAT CONTRIBUTED TO ANIMAL'S DEMISE. IT WAS A BUSY STREET, AND IT'S ONE OF THE REASONS WE MOVED OUR YOUNG FAMILY TO A LESS HEAVILY TRAVELLED NEIGHBORHOOD OF MUSKOKA. THERE WERE A NUMBER OF ACCIDENTS ON THE STREET, THAT OCCURRED AT THE BOTTOM OF THE STEEP AND WINTER-SLIPPERY TANBARK HILL, AND ONE OF THESE ENDED ANIMAL'S SHORT LIFE. SHE GOT OUT OF THE HOUSE, AND BEGAN CHASING A SQUIRREL, PUTTING HIM DIRECTLY IN THE PATH OF AN ONCOMING CAR. HE SURVIVED FOR A FEW MINUTES IN SUZANNE'S ARMS BUT DIED ENROUTE TO THE CLINIC. I WAS WORKING THAT NIGHT AS AN ELECTION SCRUTINEER IN A PROVINCIAL ELECTION, AT THE FORMER BRACEBRIDGE CENTENNIAL CENTRE, JUST A BLOCK AWAY. WE WERE MOVING TO OUR NEW HOUSE, AT GOLDEN BEACH, THE NEXT MORNING, AND IT WOULD HAVE MEANT, HAD ANIMAL SURVIVED, THAT ITS NEW HOME WOULD HAVE BEEN IN A NICE RURAL SETTING WITH SOME ROOM TO ROAM. IT JUST DIDN'T WORK OUT SO WELL....AT LEAST AS WE HAD INTENDED.

     LET'S GO BACK A FEW YEARSS. ANIMAL WAS STILL IN THE KITTENISH PERIOD. AS A RESULT OF ME BEING SINGLE, AND THE FACT THAT MY PARENTS HAD GONE TO FLORIDA FOR THE WINTER, LEAVING ME TO CELEBRATE CHRISTMAS WITH ANIMAL, I GOT SADDLED WITH BEING THE ON-CALL REPORTER FOR THE CHRISTMAS HOLIDAYS. AFTER HAVING SUFFERED THE UNCEREMONOUS HEAVE-HO FROM A LONG TIME GIRLFRIEND, A FEW YEARS BACK, I WAS CONTENT TO BE MISERABLE ON MY OWN....WITH MY STRAY CAT. OTHER THAN WORKING THROUGH THE DOLDRUMS, DAY BY DAY, THERE WAS ALSO A PLAN TO JOIN UP WITH THE FRENCH FOREIGN LEGION, WHERE I COULD LOSE MY IDENTITY. AMIMAL AND I WERE CERTAINLY A COUPLE OF MISFITS, SORT OF LIKE RUDOLPH AND HERBIE THE DENTIST, FROM THAT CLASSIC CHRISTMAS CARTOON I ENJOYED SO MUCH AS A KID.

     ON THAT PARTICULAR CHRISTMAS EVE, I'D BEEN OUT AT A FIRE SCENE FOR MOST OF THE AFTERNOON, AND HAD BUMPED INTO MY OLD RINK RAT PAL, ALISTAIR TAYLOR, WHO HAD BEEN CHRISTMAS SHOPPING. AS IT OFTEN TURNED OUT, WE RETREATED, TO WHAT HERALD-GAZETTE REPORTERS CALLED "THE PRESS CLUB," WHICH WAS AN UNBALANCED CORNER TABLE, WITH A FOLDED COASTER UNDER A LEG, AT THE HISTORIC ALBION HOTEL, OPPOSITE THE FORMER TRAIN STATION. WE ARRIVED AT AROUND THE DINNER HOUR, BUT YOU WOULDN'T DARE EAT THERE....EVEN THE PRETZELS ON THE BAR, WERE IN PROXIMITY TO THE COUGHING OF OLD FARTS WHO COVETED THE LINE OF STOOLS, AS THE PLACE OF HONOR IN THE CAVERNOUS TAVERN. THE FOOD WAS JUST ON THE CHALK BOARD TO SATISFY TERMS OF THE LIQUOR PERMIT....OR SOMETHING LIKE THAT. I IMAGINE THE SANDWICHES WERE GREEN BY THAT POINT OF THE WEEK....MADE FRESH EVERY MONDAY. THERE WERE ONLY A FEW SOULS LEFT FROM THE AFTERNOON AUDIENCE. SO AL AND I HAD A JUG OF DRAFT BROUGHT TO THE TABLE, OF NUMEROUS JUGS THAT EVENING, AND FOR HOURS ON END, WE SAT AND RECOLLECTED OUR RESPECTIVE PASTS....UNBURDENED OURSELVES OF TRIALS AND TRIBULATIONS, WHILE GETTING REGULAR REPORTS ON THE WEATHER, WHICH WAS GETTING WORSE BY THE MOMENT. AL AND I WERE SNOWED-IN AT THE ALBION HOTEL IN ALL ITS GLORY. THERE WERE NO STRIPPERS BOOKED THAT NIGHT, AND THE BARTENDER HAD TO WAIT ON TABLES. SO WE DIDN'T GET TO HUG OR MILDLY PINCH THE FEMALE SERVERS, WHO WE LIKED TO TEASE. I WOULDN'T HAVE PINCHED THE BIG GUY WITH THE BEER TRAY FOR LOVE NOR MONEY, AS THEY SAY. AL LIVED A CONSIDERABLE DISTANCE AWAY, AT BALSAM CHUTES, AND EVEN THOUGH I HAD ONLY TWO BLOCKS TO TRAVEL.....IT SEEMED THE BEST THING TO DO.... WAS JUST TO STAY AT THE PRESS CLUB TABLE AND CHAT. IT WAS A LITTLE DISTURBING TO WATCH AS SEVERAL OLDTIMERS, FEEL ASLEEP AT THE TABLES, WITH DRINKS IN HAND, FEELING DESOLATE ABOUT THE LIVES THEY HAD, AND WHAT THEY HAD TO LOOK FORWARD TO WHEN THEY GOT HOME. NO, ON THAT NIGHT, WE WERE TWO OF THE MOST OPTIMISTIC SOULS IN THAT BUILDING. AND PEOPLE AT THE BAR WERE EATING THOSE SNEEZED-OVER PRETZELS....AND ASKING ABOUT THOSE SANDWICHES, WHILE THE BAR-KEEP SHOOK HIS HEAD. AMIDST THE SMOKE AND DIN OF COUGHING AND CONVERSATION, IT HAD ITS RESIDENT HAPPINESS NONE THE LESS. THERE WAS ACCEPTANCE HERE, IN THOSE HOURS, AND THAT'S WHAT COUNTED.

     I WON'T KID YOU. IF YOU HAVE, OR ARE STILL, A FREQUENT TAVERN-GOER, YOU CAN EASILY IMAGINE WHAT THE CROWD OF PATRONS MUST HAVE LOOKED LIKE THAT NIGHT. FOLKS THAT DIDN'T WANT TO GO HOME.....FINDING NO REASON TO HEAD BACK TO A PLACE THAT WAS HOLLOW AND FOSTERED THEIR LONELINESS. AT LEAST IN THE BIG ROOM, THAT SMELLED LIKE STALE BEER AND WET FEET, THEY COULD CLAIM TO BE WITH LIKE-MINDED MATES.....WILLINGLY COMMITTING TO AN IMPOSED EXILE FROM THE REST OF THE WORLD. THIS WAS THEIR PLACE ON EARTH; THE HOME THEY PREFERRED, NO MATTER WHAT IT COST TO SIT AT ONE OF THESE STICKY TABLES, WITH WET RINGS FROM WHERE THE LAST GLASS LIFTED OFF. AL AND I TALKED ABOUT LIFE AND WORK, AND OF COURSE, ABOUT THE RINK RATS, OF WHICH HE AND I WERE FOUNDING MEMBERS. HE WAS WORRIED ABOUT HIS WIFE AT HOME, BUT THE SNOW WAS COMING DOWN HEAVY, AND THE WIND WAS MAKING IT IMPOSSIBLE TO SEE TO THE END OF THE BLOCK.....WHEN AL WOULD LOOK OUT THE DOOR TO THE WORLD BEYOND. IT WOULD SETTLE DOWN SOON, AND AL WAS ABLE TO SECURE A RIDE HOME WITH A NEIGHBOR, WHO HAPPENED TO STILL BE IN TOWN.....STRANDED BY THE SAME BLIZZARD. I SWALLOWED THE LAST FEW DROPS OF WARM BEER, BUTTONED UP MY COAT, TOSSING MY SCARF AROUND MY NECK, MITTS AND TOQUE APPLIED, AND WE BOTH HEADED TO THE DOOR. I LOOKED AROUND AT THE REST OF THE CLIENTELE, THAT WOULD LIKELY BE HERE UNTIL AFTER LAST CALL, WONDERING IF I'D BE BACK HERE NEXT CHRISTMAS EVE TO JOIN THIS LONELY HEARTS CLUB. AL CALLED ME LATER THAT NIGHT, JUST TO LET ME KNOW HE HAD ARRIVED SAFELY HOME, DESPITE A HARROWING MOTOR TRIP.

     WHEN I HAD ARRIVED IN MY ONE BEDROOM APARTMENT, AT THE FORMER MCGIBBON HOUSE, THAT OVERLOOKED THE BANDSHELL OF MEMORIAL PARK, I FOUND MY CAT "ANIMAL" SITTING ON THE ARM OF THE SOFA, AWAITING SOME COMPANY. I ASSUMED HE WAS LOOKING FOR HIS DINNER, WHICH WAS LONG OVERDUE. MY FAULT. I HAD NO BUSINESS OWNING A CAT IN THE FIRST PLACE. BUT HE WAS A LOYAL SORT OF BEAST, AND HE FORGAVE ALL OF MY TRESPASSES, BY JUMPING UP ON MY KNEE, AND PURRING BOTH OF US TO SLEEP. I WOKE UP BEFORE MIDNIGHT, WITH MY NECK STIFF FROM THE WAY I WAS SLUMBERING IN THE CHAIR, AND ANIMAL WAS STILL SNORING ON MY LAP. I LOOKED UP AT THE TWINKLING CHRISTMAS LIGHTS ON THE ARTIFICIAL TREE, AND I COULDN'T HELP BUT NOTICE HOW BEAUTIFUL IT LOOKED, OUT OVER THE TINY PARK, ALL FRESHLY ADORNED WITH THAT EVENING'S SNOW. I DON'T GET MISTY-EYED OFTEN, AND THIS WAS ONE OF THOSE OCCASIONS. NOT BECAUSE I WAS LONELY, OR FELT ABANDONED, WITHOUT ANY FAMILY TO VISIT FOR CHRISTMAS.....BUT BECAUSE I WAS WITH A WONDERFUL FRIEND THAT I HAD REALLY ONLY KNOWN, TO THAT POINT, AS ANOTHER MOUTH TO FEED. I SAT THERE FOR A LONG TIME, PATTING THE LITTLE FELLOW, AND I SOON CAME BACK AROUND, AFTER TEMPORARY DISDAIN, TO THE PLEASANT REALITY, THAT CHRISTMAS IS A FORGIVING TIME.... OF GOODWILL AND KINSHIP; OF THIS, I COULDN'T ASK FOR MORE THAN THE CREATURE COMFORTS OF MY SMALL LITTLE HOME, AND FURRY COMPANION, THAT ASKED FOR NO MORE THAN A FEW CANS OF FOOD EACH DAY, SOME WATER, AND A GENTLE OWNER WHO WOULD BUDGET A FEW MOMENTS EACH DAY.....TO CURL UP TOGETHER IN A CHAIR, SITUATED SUCH, AS TO AFFORD A NICE VIEW UPON THE REAL BUSTLING WORLD, SO SILENT THEN, BEYOND THE PURRING.

     FOR ALL THAT IT DIDN'T HAVE OF CHARM AND ELEGANCE, I HAD ACTUALLY ENJOYED THE COMPANY OF BAR PATRONS THAT NIGHT, IN THEIR OWN PURSUIT OF CONTENTMENT, AND MY ENJOYABLE CHAT WITH AN OLD FRIEND AT THE PRESS TABLE IN A LOW-LIT CORNER OF THE FORMER ALBION HOTEL. WHEN I DRIVE BY IT, ON MY TRAVELS TO BRACEBRIDGE, I'M PLEASANTLY REMINDED OF THAT CHRISTMAS EVE, OF LONG AGO, WHEN I FOUND SOLACE WITH GOOD COMPANY....IN THE MIDST OF A WINTER STORM. I CRIED FOR A LONG TIME, THE NIGHT SUZANNE HAD TO TELL ME ABOUT "ANIMAL'S" TRAFFIC MISADVENTURE, OUT FRONT OF OUR HOME. I WAS HEARTSICK FOR A WEEK AFTER, EVEN WHILE TRYING TO RE-ESTABLISH OUR FAMILY IN THE HOUSE AT GOLDEN BEACH. I MUST HAVE MADE TEN OR MORE SLOW TRIPS PAST THE OLD HOUSE, DURING THAT NEXT WEEK, TRYING TO RECONCILE HOW IT HAD HAPPENED AS GOD'S PLAN, BEING A MOTOR VEHICLE AND ALL....COMPOUNDED BY OUR HUMAN ERROR; AND TO ADJUST TO THE NEW REALITY, THAT THE TABBY WAS NO LONGER. YOU KNOW SOMETHING....WHAT A TREAT IT WOULD BE, ON A NIGHT LIKE THIS....A NEW AGE CHRISTMAS EVE, TO FEEL THE LIGHT, WARM WEIGHT, OF THAT LOVING LITTLE CREATURE, IN SPIRIT, JUMP BACK ONTO MY LAP....FOR OLD TIMES SAKE. HE KEPT ME FROM BEING LONELY ON THOSE LONG WINTER NIGHTS....AT A TIME WHEN I WASN'T AT ALL SURE WHERE I WOULD WIND-UP MYSELF IN GOD'S DETERMINATION. I HOPE, AS A MATTER OF CONSIDERABLE FAITH, THAT GOD'S FOUND HIM A NICE PLACE TO ROAM UP THERE IN THE GREAT BEYOND.

     PLEASE CONSIDER GIVING A DONATION TO THE ONTARIO SOCIETY FOR THE PREVENTION OF CRUELTY TO ANIMALS, IN BRACEBRIDGE, OR IN YOUR COMMUNITY, TO HELP FEED AND HOUSE ALL THE STRAY AND UNWANTED ANIMALS IN OUR REGION.....AND IF YOU HAVE PLACE IN YOUR FINE HOME FOR A PET LIKE "ANIMAL" THE CAT, PLEASE CONTACT THE SHELTER FOR INFORMATION ON ADOPTIONS