Closer to Memory

My first memory in life is my fourth birthday party. My friends and I were all seated around the kitchen table, freshly gorged on cake and ice cream. I don’t remember most of the presents… in fact, I only remember the last one.

The sun shone brightly through the patio door on that brisk autumn day, and we were anxious to get outside and play. “But wait, there’s one more present,” my mother called, as my father brought in a large decorated box, larger than I was.

Giddy with excitement, I raced over to the box. “Don’t shake it!” my mother cautioned! Curious, I laid my ear against the box. A gentle, persistent scratching sound came from the box.

“A puppy!!!” I screeched, searching for the opening to the box. The top popped open, and inside, among a pile of shredded newspaper, a tiny grey-and-white puffball appeared, looking up towards the light in the opening.

“Mew!”

“Oh. It’s a cat,” I muttered.

After all my friends had gone home, it was time to introduce the kitten to the rest of the family; Fido, the 180-pound St. Bernard. The kitten sat quietly on the floor as my parents stood nearby for the introduction.

As Fido approached, the kitten looked up and asked, “Mew?”

Towering overhead, the St. Bernard sniffed the kitten. He pondered for just a moment, and then quickly scooped up the kitten in his mouth, with only a grey fuzzy tail left dangling out.

“No!” my mother yelled, with a sharp swat to the back of the dog’s head. The kitten tumbled back out onto the floor, soaked in slobber.

The cat never forgave the dog for that moment, regularly chasing the huge dog around the house, slashing and biting at it’s ankles for the rest of their time together.