Auntie Mae’s Various Ramblings on Life in a Small Town

Ida Mae Nowes

Nubbins Special Correspondent 

My friend Grace called me last week to remind me that the Blevins Autumn Festival was coming up. I’ll probably go, although I doubt I’ll ride that crazy Wild Boar’s Breath roller coaster like I did last year. On the other hand, it was kind of fun …

“Did you see the commercial for the festival on TV last night?” Grace asked.

“Grace, I’ll be honest with you,” I said. “During the last few months before a big election, I avoid TV and radio like the plague.”

“Aren’t you going to vote?” she asked, like I’d said I’d given up teeth-brushing.

“Of course I’m going to vote,” I said matter-of-factly. “But there are better places to get accurate information about who to vote for than those crazy shows. As far as I can tell it’s just a lot of yelling and name-calling. My Mama taught me better than that. She said ‘Hateful begets hateful,’ so I’m not going to get caught up in it.”

“Your Mama was pretty smart,” Grace said with a laugh. 

As I hung up the phone, I looked over at my cat Succotash who was curled up in a corner of the kitchen. That was unusual, since she preferred the couch in the living room where she could leave a sprinkling of cat fur to annoy me. Suddenly, I realized how lethargic she looked, and how much weight she had recently lost. Succotash was at least 16 years old and had suffered from several health issues, so I shouldn’t have been surprised, but I had been in denial. I didn’t want her to be sick, but there was no doubt about it – I would have to take her to the vet.

As I carried the plastic pet-carrying case into Dr. Crowder’s office, I noticed there was a new assistant behind the desk. She was frowning and I could almost see a dark cloud of negativity hovering around her head. When I told her about Succotash, she barked, “Have you got an appointment?”

“No, I think it might be an emergency,” I said. “Dr. Crowder has always been able to work her in before.”

“Well, you could have called,” said snippy Ms. Negativity.

Oh, my goodness. I won’t even repeat the first retort that popped into my head, but then Mama’s words I had quoted to Grace earlier that day came to mind. I said simply, “Yes, I guess I should have called. I’ll wait here as long as it takes to work her in,” and I sat down.

The lady sighed and sneered, but we got in. Dr. Crowder looked at Succotash and shook her head. “Let’s leave her overnight and run a couple of tests,” she said, but I knew the prognosis wasn’t good. As I said goodbye to my beloved pet, the nasty assistant came in to take her away. After she left, Dr. Crowder said, “Poor Amelia. She’s had a terrible day. Her little boy is sick and her car wouldn’t start this morning.” Hmm, I thought to myself. It didn’t really excuse her behavior, but I was glad I hadn’t jumped down her throat.

The next day Dr. Crowder called me with the news I was dreading. There was nothing else to do for poor Succotash. Cats are pretty stoic, but she felt that Succotash was in pain and recommended “putting her down” – that odd phrase used in Vet Land. 

I was grateful that Merl was in town, so we both drove to the vet’s office. This time there was a young man on duty at the desk, and he showed us into a room. Dr. Crowder came in and spoke softly to us, then Amelia appeared holding Succotash. Though I was focused on my cat, I registered that Amelia looked very different today. The worry lines and dark cloud had disappeared and she held Succotash as sweetly as if she were a baby. Perhaps her son was better or her car got fixed, I thought briefly before turning my attention to my dying cat.

The whole thing was over very quickly and I admit I cried like a baby. Succotash had been a part of my life longer than Merl and many of my friends. What made it bearable was the support I got from Dr. Crowder and the others at the vet’s office. They deal with this kind of thing all the time, yet they were sympathetic and reverent and understanding of my grief. I even looked up to see tears in Amelia’s eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, reaching out to touch my hand, and I had a feeling she was also apologizing for the day before.

“Thank you for caring,” I said. “That makes it so much easier to bear.”

On the drive home with Merl at the wheel, I thought about the string of events that connected me to Amelia. How different today might have been if the day before I had responded to her rudeness with my own. Letting go of that allowed her to be there today for me when I needed her. 

I sighed. And oh how much we need each other as we try to navigate this bumpy old road of life. As the tears rolled down my face, I reached for Merl’s hand.