Braids & Whiskers

Nestled in the crook of her belly, that’s my favourite place to be. Ruby mirrors my yawn from the other side of the duvet, and I sense a deep, delicious slumber approaching us both. I know it’s going to be a good one tonight because Dad’s working the night shift, and when Dad’s working the night shift, all bets are off and Ruby and I are allowed to sleep in the bed with Mama. It’s the only time we’re allowed because Dad says I snore too loudly. Sometimes, I’m in the depths of a dream and then I wake with a fright, only to find myself bundled in Big Sister’s arms and carried down the hallway, into the living room, and delivered straight into my bed with a dazed, 

“Amy, please shut up.” 

Big Sister always shuts the door behind her, which makes me sad.  

I can’t help my flat snout. 

Nobody hears my whimpers from the living room, but eventually I’ll tire myself out and huddle up into a ball, snuggling my tattered bunny. She’s a little crusty around the edges, but that’s what a decade of love and saliva will do.  

Tonight is different, though. Big Sister is away at her stupid boyfriend’s house, the one who always makes her cry and never says hello to me when he visits. And Dad, he’s working the nightshift. So, Ruby and I get to have a sleepover with Mama.  

We always wind down with some music. Mama loves to play Shania Twain on the speakers, loud enough that I feel it in my paws. But tonight the house is dead quiet. Mama is dozing deeply. I inch my nose towards her face every so often, just to feel her gentle breath on my whiskers. Just to make sure she is ok.  

One must always make sure their Mama is ok. 

And not just because one awaits breakfast in the food bowl every morning, but because the dark cloud looming over all our heads is lingering closer each day. 

Ruby told me she hears Big Sister crying in her bedroom most nights. As for Big Brother, he’s spending more time at home, much to Ruby’s dismay. Ruby’s spending more time scuttling underneath the sofa when the gravel driveway crunches as the car pulls up. As for Dad, I’ve never known him not to be tired and grumpy after shift work, but the five in the morning chin scruff seems a mere afterthought these days. 

Ruby stirs and gently pads over towards me, nudging my head out of the way to give Mama a goodnight lick on the cheek. Together, we share the cosy, sacred nook for the night. Neither of us mentions the scary dark force that sits in the corner of the room, biding its time. 

I’m patiently waiting at the grooming station, like I do every morning. Waiting for Mama to do my hair. I inspect the jar of pretty bows, wondering what colour she will pick this time. Lately, I have been wearing baby pink to match my brown tresses.  

Ruby always wears a Ruby red. Of course. 

My tail starts wagging in anticipation, longing to feel her warm, gentle hands cup my face as she combs and braids my hair. It’s our special time together. I even tolerate letting her get rid of my eye goobies. And her loud, tuneless singing.  

I trot into the kitchen in search of Mama but there’s just a bunch of dirty dishes in the sink. 

How about the living room? 

Not there, either. 

She must be in the garden! 

I peer out the door, scanning the grassy landscape. 

She’s not there, either, but I make a mental note to come back and chase the neighbours cat that’s perched on the fence. 

Trespassing! Not on my turf, missy. 

I follow the chatter and discover everyone gathered in the bedroom, sitting around the bed while Mama lies there, unmoving and quiet. I spy Ruby’s trembling tail poking out from beneath the bed. A soft whine escapes my lips, and I jump onto the bed and curl up beside Mama. Big Brother leans over from his seat and gives me a head scruff.  

I wince - mind the braids, please? 

My food bowl in the kitchen remains untouched. Ruby’s too. 

Big Brother closes the curtains in the bedroom and switches on the bedside lamp. I get up to briefly stretch my legs and curl back up by Mama’s side. It seems like nobody has anywhere else to be today.  

Hours pass. Ruby and I burrow close as Mama’s warmth ebbs. Wet faces full of sorrow surround us as hollow stillness fills the space where life once was.  

Big Brother reaches for Mama’s hand, telling her that it’s okay to go. When she doesn’t respond, Big Brother gives a confirmation nod to Dad and Big Sister. 

I catch Ruby’s sad, anxious eyes, seeing mine reflected in them. 

Okay to go where?  

The doorbell rings. Dad goes to answer it. Big Brother is on the phone, having hushed conversations beside the bed while Ruby and I are glued to our spot.  

I’m not going anywhere. We’re not going anywhere. 

 Ruby growls at the scary men with the big black bag while I burrow down more, trying to gather as much warmth that’s left. I watch from Big Sister’s arms as they take the big black bag away and load it into the stretchy car. She doesn’t tell me to shut up this time. Instead, she holds me tight and nuzzles into my fur. 

Where are they going? 

I follow the sound of Ruby barking and find her in the garage next to Dad, with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth and his head in his hands. A blackbird stands silent and still atop the fridge, watching as the stretchy car drives away.  

The doorbell gives Ruby a fright, and she scurries under the dining room table as Big Brother puts another casserole dish into the fridge. 

That’s the fifth one since the stretchy car left two days ago. 

I try to blend into the organised chaos that ensues, following Big Sister around the house and curling up on her towel while she sits on the shower floor, sobbing quietly. Dad’s no longer on the night shift, but he doesn’t object to my presence when it falls dark outside and it’s time to rest. He lets me curl up on the empty space in the bed, waiting for the gentle chin scruff that hasn’t come. Ruby and I still try our luck at the grooming station each morning. 

Patiently waiting.  

Dishevelled braids and bows askew. 

The grooming station collects dust.

Soft, soothing caresses and murmurs try to calm me down, but I can’t stop quivering. The sterile surface feels cold and hard beneath my paws. The pink blanket they’ve placed down is providing zero cushioning, nor comfort. And it smells funny. 

It’s not even mine! 

I look around the plain room, registering where I am. I have been here before. Once, when the neighbour's cat scratched me on my eyeball and I had to wear a special eye patch that Ruby barked at. Another time when I couldn’t keep my kibble down for a few days.  

Where is Big Sister? 

Where is Big Brother? 

Why is Dad crying? 

Who is this strange lady? 

My tail feels thick and heavy. My eyes grow leaden and droopy. I think of Ruby, waiting in the backseat of the car. I rest my head in Dad’s hands as he gently cups my face. Big wet droplets land on my nose as he tries to speak to me.  

“Together,” he says, the word catching in the back of his throat. Stuck. “She wanted you to go together.” 

I don’t understand, but I lick the salty tears off his hand as he strokes my whiskers. 

The rain finally eases and I potter into the garden. Pretty flowers stand tall amongst the bushy shrubs. The grass feels as soft as butter beneath my paws. 

My whiskers are working double time, exploring every nook and cranny until I finally spot it, sitting proudly on the grass. 

My yellow ball.  

Except it’s no longer tattered and chewed and almost ripped to shreds after a decade of play. I walk over to it, gently picking it up with my mouth. 

Squeak. 

It still works! 

As I bound around the garden with my ball, I jump higher than usual and run faster than ever. I jump and dart and roll over, pausing eventually by the fresh rain puddle. 

I catch a glimpse of my perfect braids and brand-new white bow. 

My tail wags in delight as a gentle hand reaches for the ball, throwing it deeper into the expanding garden. 

Mama.