When I was on the farm recently, my sister suggested that I write a column on the way animals react towards me. This will be fun for me because I have many stories of animals just waiting to come out. Cats and dogs have always been part of my life, and more recently, birds and horses have entered the picture.

If I’m outside at the fence, and Winnie and Fair, the horses, are within hearing distance, most of the time they will come to me and give me sloppy kisses. I’m happy to have them on the other side of the fence because Winnie can be quite pushy sometimes and Fair is easily scared, so I like the protection of the fence. I was knocked over by a horse at camp once, so horses do scare me a bit as I do them with my jerky movements.

My family home has never been without a dog for more than a month, and I can’t remember a time when there wasn’t at least two cats. Mum’s dog, Gypsy, died recently, but when I rode anywhere other than on the lawn, she was never very far away. She wouldn’t stay right with me, but she made sure she could always see me. When I got into trouble, it was another story because instead of barking, she would dance around in circles and whimper. She did the same thing at night when I needed help but couldn’t wake anyone up. Gypsy knew when I needed help, but she didn’t know enough to bark and make someone hear.

My brother’s dog, Tag, will probably take over Gypsy’s job; only hopefully he will bark when I’m trouble. My sister was commenting on how Tag doesn’t get upset when I kick him because he seems to know that I don’t mean to do it. It’s a bummer when I want him to move because he’s blocking my way; it’s then that I have to get mean. The harder I kick the more likely he is move. Gypsy had to learn the hard way, and it looks like Tag will too.

I like to sit outside on summer evenings, and Alf, one of the cats, will come and sit right beside my chair. He has even been known to get up on my knee when the sun goes down. It’s as if he’s protecting me, and when I move to go into the house, he knows his job is done.

My two birds were always good company for me here in the apartment. They got to know what kind of mood I was in whether happy or sad or even in pain. I don’t even remember either of them waking me up in the morning. They were both male canaries, but I didn’t have them at the same time.

Sometimes I want another bird, but I want Honey, my cat, back even more. She had to turn into a farm cat because I couldn’t handle the hair in this small apartment. Now, when I go home, she acts like I’m the enemy because I gave her away; that was about three years ago. When I go to pet her, she runs away unless she feels like putting up with me, but most of the time she won’t look at me.

The first cat I could actually call mine was Dolly. I dropped the poor thing on her head when she was a kitten, and I honestly think she acquired brain damage from it. She wouldn’t go to anyone but me, and she hated other cats. Eventually she became a dirty cat, and Mum got tired of cleaning up after her and sent her to live in a neighbour’s to barn where she was totally contented. I only saw her twice after that, and both times she curled up on my lap like nothing had changed even though it must have felt like she was vibrating from the way I was moving.

I’ve had some pretty bizarre pets in my day, but they loved me as much as I loved and still do love them despite the way Honey treats me.

I have cerebral palsy, and am the Disability Columnist for the Sault Star in Sault Ste. Marie, Ontario.