I googled "children in mourning" and saw that, sure enough, a pet can help a child, giving them something to care about when they often don't care about anything or anyone. Animals for those grieving can provide unspoken, but desperately needed touch and comfort.
The most surprising was Tim's reaction, who I had presumed would be the hard sell. I had all my research ready to lay out like a well shuffled deck of cards. Imagine my surprise when he was all for it. He saw the picture and fell in love, asking if he could name her since his parents had never let him name a pet when he was little. I tilted my head and looked at Tim again...who was this man standing in my kitchen?
So just like that, Violet was named and loved before we ever met her.
Gizmo, our elderly dog, and Oliver, our orange tabby cat, were not quite sure what to think of this tiny creature that invaded their homeland. Gizmo was frightened out of his mind, whining and scrambling onto my lap. I soothed him between my giggles; he was easily ten times her size.
I looked on as Jacob cradled Violet in his arms and looked down at her with a tenderness that made my throat tighten. In the next few days, I watched him attend to her every need, talking to her, explaining things to her, showing her around, and decided he was going to make a wonderful father someday. He had my father's patience and my silliness- a recipe for sure success with little ones.
I was baffled at Tim's behavior. Every night when he came in from work, he searched the house for his little fur covered princess and took her to watch tv with him. Sometimes I could hear him talking to her in the tone of voice he'd used only during Jacob's babyhood. Any small indiscretion typical of kittens getting to know a new environment was glossed over with a defensive, "Well, she's just little." I watched him lavishing over the top affection on her, doting on her at every turn, and slowly realized what he was doing.
Tim was giving Violet every bit of love he'd held back from Cory over the years. And maybe, if he'd known Cory from birth, it would have come just as naturally as it did to this tiny kitten. But without that early bond, their relationship was a lot more complicated. I wondered if he felt bad about the hugs he hadn't given or the weekends he hadn't invited her to visit while we were separated. I had a feeling he did, and was working out these feelings as he lavished affection upon this little squirt who streaked about the house, looking up at him with innocent eyes.
As Violet grew, so did her attitude. Within a month or two, she'd gone from the quiet little fluff ball who mainly ate and slept to a spitfire daredevil whose favorite pastimes were climbing curtains and trying to ride Oliver piggyback. It got so bad, we had to institute a household Bully Prevention Program for the pets. We counted down the days until she could be declawed. Jacob summed it up best with this statement as he viewed a picture I'd snapped of them in a rare moment of calm:
"That's the closest she's ever gotten to me without trying to harm me."
Through all the growing pains, Tim's dedication to Violet remained steadfast- he could be irritated as all get out with her, then smile helplessly, and start pointing out her good points to anyone who would listen- this is much how I remember his last days with Cory.
Violet in repose.
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