We flew to visit some friends recently. Waiting in the airport terminal I observed several people toting their best friends with them … dogs and cats … all in their comfortable totes or in the arms of their loving owners. This brought back memories of our family pets, one especially.
Gizmo was a polydactile Siamese cat (“polydactile” meaning he had one more toe than normal on alread big feet). My son’s best argument (among many) for getting Gizmo was that he was deformed and he needed rescuing, meaning us. In a weak moment, I gave in.
We had a house rule at the time “no indoor pets.” Well, that put us in a pickle now that we had Gizmo, so we hid him. Eventually, the cat had to come out of the bag, so on Easter morning I told my husband I had a surprise for him. With his eyes closed, I placed Gizmo on his chest and announced “Surprise!” The response was immediate and explosive. But by the afternoon, hubby and Gizmo were best buds, curling up on the couch. Hubby actually gave Gizmo his name, which stuck like glue.
Son and cat grew up. Son leaves for school. Cat stays home. Son graduates from school. Mom delivers cat to son for his graduation present. Here’s how that went. I set out in the wee hours in a car with Gizmo in a traveling case. We’re on the road 18 hours from Texas to South Carolina. After 18 long hours, Gizmo is frothing at the mouth, his ears pinned back and he’s hissing. After 18 long hours, Mom is stiff and frozen in position from driving so long and has to be pulled out of the car (literally) on arrival. Happy graduation present, son!
Fast forward several years. Son has now married with kids. Unfortunately, kids are severely allergic to guess who, Gizmo. Mom flies in for a visit and leaves with Gizmo (tote and all). Tearful goodbyes. Gizmo must have remembered that tote, because he was mad from the git-go.
Clearing airport security proved to be a real challenge. TSA, in an effort to assure the family pet wasn’t laden with explosives, decided to check Gizmo out in a private room. Huge mistake. Unzipping the tote, Gizmo shoots out like a speeding bullet. He bounds from the floor to the top of the filing cabinets, to behind the desk. The TSA supervisor looks at me and without saying a word I instinctively knew what he was thinking. HELP! I said, “Well, it looks like we’re going to miss our flight.”
It took two TSA agents and me to corral Gizmo to stuff him back in the tote. Without delay, TSA escorted us (me and Gizmo) to our gate to make our flight. Gizmo slept the whole time and me? Crashed as soon as I got home.
We had Gizmo several years before we lost him to cancer. I recall complaining at the time about taking care of the family pet, but I sure miss Gizmo warming my feet. He was an important part of the family.
At the airport I observed the unconditional love those pets had for their owners. That kind of love is amazing. That’s the kind of love I want to have all the time.
Tagged: God’s love, marriage
