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by Connie Lu/PNN Youth in the Media Journalist
It was ten years ago when my cat, Cubby became a part
of my life. I am at home watching T.V. on a cool
autumn night when I unexpectedly hear the doorbell
ring. Feeling uncertain who it could be, I turn on the
light and move the curtain aside to see that it was my
grandma, holding a kitten in her arms. I flung open
the door with excitement, as I hovered over the small
kitten with adoring sounds of, “Aw, how cute!” Her fur
is soft under the palm of my hand, as I gently pet the
narrow white stripe on her head above her pink nose.
The rest of her body is a swirled mix of brown and
black, except for her legs and paws that are white.
Her eyes are a beautiful shade of dark green jade with
widened slits of black pupils.
As soon as my grandma puts Cubby down on the carpet,
my cat quickly darts underneath the closest couch. I
look under the dark couch only to find a pair of
glowing eyes filled with fear of being in an
unfamiliar place. As we wait by the couch for her to
come out, my grandma explains how she found Cubby that
night in a parking lot at church, where my cat eagerly
jumped into my grandma’s car. My grandma said Cubby
wasn’t wearing a collar and looked pretty skinny, so
we concluded that she was homeless.
My family and I were more than happy to have her live
with us. Later that night, I attempt to coax Cubby out
from under the couch with some food. I could sense
that she was still wary, as she cautiously approached
the light. But her hunger eventually overcame her fear
as she quickly swallowed the food on the plate, while
looking up at me with a little more trust.
Her trust in me grew stronger as weeks turned into
months and months became years over time. I would
always look forward to seeing her wait for me next to
the door and play with her right after school. We
shared a close bond with each other. I didn’t just see
her as a pet, but as my friend.
Clyde W. Ford, author of “The Hero with an African
Face” also expresses the strong intimacy that exists
between human and animal spirits through his book
about African folk history and myths. He refers to the
animals as being “master animals” that are deeply
revered and sacred. He also describes the relationship
between humans and animals to be extremely close and
interdependent. “Rather, a mutual relationship is to
exist between the two: the village takes care of him,
[referring to the buffalo] and he takes care of them
by assuring the supply of buffalo for the hunt. The
life of the master animal and the life of humans are
intertwined and dependent on this arrangement” (Ford,
p. 97). The life of the animal is truly valued by the
Africans. There is a certain sense of symbiotic need
between humans and animals for existence.
Through the internship program at POOR Magazine, I
have also learned the importance of depending upon one
another, as opposed to being independent from family
and friends. The American culture emphasizes
individualism and having your own car, house, and
phone. However, POOR has taught me the value in having
a sense of community and empathy for others, instead
of separating yourself from your family as an
independent individual.
The friendship I shared with my cat was also built
upon this same idea of interdependency. My cat depends
upon me to provide her with food and shelter, but we
depend on each other for friendship. I still remember
Cubby gently nudging me with her soft forehead on my
cheek to comfort me after I had fallen down in my
backyard. She would also keep my feet warm in the
winter at the foot of my bed.
These are just a few fond memories out of the many
that I have now of Cubby since she died just a few
weeks ago. The veterinarian said she had nose cancer.
My family and I decided that it would be best to put
her to sleep because the cancer had spread to other
parts of her body already, which would make it
difficult to treat. The morning before the vet came to
put her to sleep was spent on petting her frail, weak
body. I cried seeing her in so much pain, as I said
goodbye to her.
Later that day, my brother and I looked through old
photo albums in search of pictures of Cubby, which
brought on more tears of sadness. But at the same
time, it also gave me a sense of closure in seeing and
remembering what she looked like when she first became
a part of my family as a stray cat without a home.
The previous state of her homelessness and her old age
also reminded me of the elders who can’t afford
medical attention, let alone a place to live. As
their condition worsens, the pain that they endure
becomes harder to bear with each day that passes. I
also recall an article by Valerie Schwartz,
PoorNewsNetwork Community Journalist and Poverty
Scholar, called “A Mama’s Love…”, which was about a
homeless African American elder named Lula Bell
Seymour, aka Mama, who passed away a few weeks ago in
the Tenderloin. Mama did not have much, but she
always shared the little she had and encouraged
everyone around her through prayer.
After Cubby was put to sleep, I felt like there was an
irreplaceable hole of pain in my heart because I had
lost a close friend that I literally grew up with for
over 10 years of my life. But I also felt relief
knowing that she did not have to keep suffering and
enduring the pain. I will always treasure our
memories together and remember her comforting purr
vibrating against my arms around her soft coat of fur. | 
