the howl of the moment
they say animals know things. our beloved pets seem to see things naked to our own eye; they sometimes sense events yet to come. things beyond the human capacity.
when i was around eight or nine years old, our family dog abby ran away before a moderate earthquake struck the area. no major damage was done, but she knew it was out of the ordinary and decided to make a run for it. my parents went out late in the evening to patrol the neighborhood and found her a few streets down. being a sound sleeper, i knew nothing of the earthquake or abby’s escape, but it was probably for the best.
marco higgins, “the family cat with character” per dad’s obituary (an obvious testament to our sleep deprivation and slap happiness during the funeral-planning stage), hid under the hospice bed for most of dad’s final day. when he wasn’t crouched down in the darkness with his eyes glowing, he was hollering at any of us who invaded his space. generally, that was any number of the tiny hallways in our house, making walking by without getting smacked by his tiny paw a difficulty. we also noticed his stare was often fixated on seemingly nothing. what he saw, we’ll never know.
he’s a feisty and quirky cat under normal circumstances, but we believed some supernatural forces were at work to provoke him more than usual.
i joked that he had me pegged as the grim reaper since i was the final arrival—i seemed to endure the brunt of his hostilities. he’d guard the bathroom door, waiting for me to exit, and he’d growl at me with his fangs intentionally bared. yes, we’re talking about a feline here.
after dad passed, a dear family friend went to look for a now-absent marco. bob would cat sit for mom and dad when they came up to chicago to visit me and naz. particularly over the past couple of years after dad’s diagnosis, bob had visited more often, offering both emotional support as well as a hand with household duties. and during that time, bob bonded with marco. but on the night of dad’s death, marco disregarded any fondness he had for bob. he found marco perched on dad’s slippers on the stairs. when bob reached down to comfort him, claws came out and marco swatted at his hand. bob came back with a small trickle of blood running between his fingers. marco was guarding dad’s shoes, and no one was to come near them.
on the other side of the continent, the peculiarities were no different. i called naz to let him know dad let out his last breath, and as i spoke the words, i could hear shaun the dog™ in the background emit an exaggerated and low rumble, a near howl, a near whine. a sound not often heard from our pooch. dad and shaun shared a mutual affection, and it was obvious from his response that he already knew the news.
the animals. they know.
