No Good Deed Goes Unpunished

NO GOOD DEED GOES UNPUNISHED

By: Patricia Gainor

   As the movers began unloading the van. Our four children quickly took off to scout out their new neighborhood, but soon returned to announce with great excitement, that our neighbor’s pony had delivered a foal. “We’ve been invited to go and see the new baby. May we?” And they disappeared again. With their return, each tried to describe the menagerie in our neighbor’s backyard. But the foal was the most important subject of each explanation.

That first night in our new home was the wettest we could remember, and the temperature dropped significantly. The mother pony, fiercely protective of her baby, would not let anyone enter the stall to move both her and her baby to the dry and warmer shed. The result of that exposure caused the death of the foal, as explained by the vet who came to try to help.

The sad news was delivered the next morning by the oldest of the daughters who came and rang our kitchen bell, leading by its halter a full-sized cow. The appearance of this latest, huge visitor certainly eased the bad news about the baby pony. My four children dressed swiftly so each could inspect the first cow they had ever seen close up. Questions were asked of our neighbor leading the cow. What other animals might they have in their backyard?   Her Dad was a collector of different breeds of chickens, and a variety of breeds of geese. Their chickens laid eggs with beautiful colored shells, depending on the breed, which the girls of the family collected every morning, and often had for breakfast. I was looking forward to hearing a cock crow. That would seal my idea of country living. Imagine having a country Dr. Doolittle in our neck of N.J.

In a few days we encountered our first problem ,a large number of geese came waddling across the street to feast on the new grass sprouting on our lawn. This continued every day. The mess they left behind upset my husband sufficiently enough that he was determined to thwart their visits. I was very impressed by his decision, since he hated physical labor, and could be flummoxed by screwdrivers. But he went ahead and purchased fencing posts, and the tools he would need to attractively fence that corner favored by the geese.. However, war had been declared, and he could never be bested by stupid geese.   Succeed he did, and a rough-hewn fence curved attractively in front of the section favored by the geese. It worked to deter them, and they waddled across the next morning only to turn back and waddle to their own front lawn where they nibbled and soiled. Success!

Many months later, the disappointing news came that our animal loving neighbors were moving to Texas. Our daughters would miss their new firends whom they had for such a short time.

On the day of their move, the van pulled up and crates of animals were stacked within. We never did learn what happened with the cow. Great anxiety ensued because the family cat had run away, not to be found after thorough searching by all. They had a schedule to keep so off they went not before exacting promises that we would take excellent care of their tabby should she return. Using old towels and the cat’s bowl they made a comfy spot for the runaway. Too comfy, because when the cat showed up she was heavily pregnant and in a short time presented us with a litter of 6 kittens. How was I to get rid of 6 more cats? A trip to my school only succeeded in giving one for adoption. The mother cat showed no distress that her family had been uprooted for the day. She and her brood continued to live in our garage until one, by one. I found new homes for the kittens.

The larger cat had taken up a cat’s trait to leave succulent bits of her prey as a gift, so as I stepped out into the garage each morning on my way to work, I stepped over and cleaned up the desiccated parts she had left. The moles never stood a chance; she was a relentless huntress and a fierce fighter as she moved out each night on the prowl for trouble. By that time I had no affection for the cat, she certainly wasn’t a pet, except to Debby who was the only one allowed to pick her up.

One day, in tears, the cat cradled in her arms, Deb brought a badly injured cat to me. It must have been in a significant battle as one eyeball was slashed and oozing. We quickly drove to the vet’s who informed us that the cat would need an operation, and thereafter, nursing care to bathe the eye and change the bandages. “By whom?”, I gruffly asked so he’d pick up the message. “Can’t you drive home during your lunch hour to take care of the cat?” What planet did he live on? He cleverly added that the clinic had a hospital facility to help pets heal. Deb’s face lit up. But my practical nature intervened. “What might that cost?” The estimated figure would easily cover two mortgage payments, I judged. “Do I have any other choice?”, I asked hoping for a miracle. His response was as tactless as it could be, ignoring the sad child next to me, the jerk stated with no soothing words, “The only choice is to put the cat to sleep”. The decision was made, and Deb caressed her cat all through the simple procedure. Leaving the surgery, we approached the front desk to pay . The feckless receptionist asked sweetly if we would be returning to pick up the cat’s ashes, should we want to bury them in our yard. One more explanation to the child created another torrent of tears.

For days thereafter that, a note was slipped under my bedroom door stating simply in black crayon, MURDERER. My husband insisted that it should stop, but for quite a while , our home was not a happy one. Debby had explained to her siblings when questioned about the missing cat, that Mom had it killed. Hugs and soothing explanations helped the atmosphere a lot. But, I was drained, and vowed, no more pets. That lasted for at least a year till we adopted a puppy. Will I never learn?