A Day Without a Warm Woolen MItten

See how a cat took off with my mitten and left me a painful reminder

Growing up, back in the good old days, we were fortunate to have mittens.  They were easier to get on and off, and they were less expensive than he five finger version called gloves.  I had three brothers and two sisters growing up, and we lived in the Arlington, Virginia area closest to Washington, District of Columbia.  It was the home to the federal government of the United States of America.  Of course, Arlington was the home of Confederate General Robert E. Lee and after the Civil War his land was turned into the home of the largest military cemetery in the country.  And, from every war since, our soldiers can be buried there to honor their service.  I was too young to serve in World War I, but both my brothers served in the War to End All Wars, the Great War.  Both died in World War I and both are buried at Arlington National Cemetery.  I was born in 1907.  Andrew, my oldest brother was born in 1899, and my other brother Samuel was born in 1901.  They were both sent to England, and were parachuted into the area of the front n ear Verdun.  They both died within minutes of each other when a big bertha gun found their entrenchments.  They had been gone from home for less than three weeks when they were lost. 

As kids, we were so many years apart that we never had anything in common.  Samuel was six years older, and Andrew was nearly eight years old.  I was always much closer in age and interests with my sisters.  Bonnie Jo was born in 1905, and Beverly Jean was born in 1906.  So, we communicated better, and played together and even studied our school exercises together. 

Virginia was a very cold, and during the winter time was a place where deep snows occurred on a regular basis during the winter months.  We had cousins in Blacksburg and Wytheville Virginia and visited them quite often.  My aunt Bettie and my aunt Maude were always prepared when we arrived for a visit.  Aunt Bettie would always give me a jigsaw puzzle to put together, and my aunt Maude would always give me a handkerchief.  But this particular year, she gave me a dark blue bandana barely large enough to encircle my neck.  But, I liked it very much.

For some reason, my aunt Bettie always had a dozen or more cats and kittens around her house, and I always thought her house smelled from having so many felines inside, but she did not seem to mind.  They ran all over the house and had unfettered access to every room.  It also did not seem to bother her son, who was apparently perfectly adapted to that lifestyle.  To me, it was a stinking mess, that made me sick to my stomach.  I was happy, growing up that we did not visit this aunt and cousin all that much.  It was just plain putrid to the sense of smell, and it was difficult for me to spend a night there.

But this trip had something left that would make his winter very difficult for both me and my one of my sisters.  After getting ready to retire for the night, we put up all of our day clothes and went to our bedrooms.  Next morning, we got up early with a new snowfall on the ground.  It was a lustrous, beautiful sight full of wonder and excitement.  We got up and got dressed back in our day clothes, and went down stairs for breakfast.  Bonnie Jo and Beverly Jean immediately seated themselves at the table and invited me to sit between them.  So, I did and we all had a sound breakfast.

About an hour after breakfast ended, my mother, sisters and I prepared to leave for Arlington and home even in spite of the new foot of snow on the ground.  The streets outside down the road seemed clear enough, so we closed up our suitcases and took them downstairs to be loaded into the trunk of the car.  All five bags had the additional advantage of adding additional weight to the back of he car for greater traction.  Even with that, dad added a couple concrete blocks back there and told my aunt he would return them.  Then there was a frantic search with Bonnie Jo for our mittens.  She found her left mitten and I found my right mitten.  The other two had simply disappeared over night.  We always put our mittens in our coat pockets way down in the bottom of the pockets:  one on each side.   Apparently, our coats became the subject of a feline search overnight, and Bonnie Jo and I were the victims of cat play.  Our search that morning, was all hands-on deck, but after nearly an hour of search, we were forced to give up our search.  Our dad had to get us home and he had business in D.C. during the afternoon.  So, we left he house, and before we made it to the car our hands were already red and cold.  Although my aunt apologized profusely, the loss of the thick warm woolen mittens was devastating for Bonnie Joe and myself.  By the time we got home, our hands were frozen and in considerable pain.  It was a matter of having every bone in each bare hand in the most unbearable pain you could think of.  It took four hours to get home that morning and early afternoon.  There was just no substitute for the loss of those mittens.  And, Bonnie JO and I paid for it.

My aunt Betty apologize profusely, but it did not help our agony.  Bonnie Jo and I never visited there again.  When we arrived home, Bonnie Jo and I stationed ourselves as close to the fireplace as we could and after some hours our numb hands warmed enough and the gruesome pain finally abated somewhat.  Six months later, Aunt Bettie called to tell us that she had found our warm woolen mittens up in the attic.  A trip she only made twice a year.  Apparently, the cats and kittens had made a nice maternity ward there out of many, warm pieces of apparel they spirited away.  She said, gleefully over the phone that she had rescued them from he cats and would mail them to us just as soon as humanly possible.  Of course, the mittens never arrived, and as I said, we never went to Aunt Bettie’s house again. 

Mom and Dad replaced the mittens the very next day, and we did not have to suffer he rest of the winter without warm woolen mittens on our hands.  It was not a small thing for Bonnie Jo and myself.  This was consequential event, and we suffered greatly because of all those cats and kittens.  It certainly did not change my mind about the mischievous, naughty critters that ran amuck inside Aunt Bettie’s home.  Now that is what I call a self-inflicted wound which magnified as to its impact the winter I was six years old. 

In the years that followed, Aunt Bettie began to divest herself of all the cats and kittens.  Aunt Bettie developed a parasitic infection she acquired cleaning the cat’s litter boxes without properly sanitation of hands.  She developed a series of high fevers, which causes internal body heat to become unstable leading to general overall weakness and fatigue.  If the bacterium is not treated, the fever can become uncontrollable and lead to brain damage and death.  My aunt Bettie escaped the bacterium’s deadliest phase and received treatments just in time.    She returned to health, but decided to get rid of he cats before something else happened.  Last time I heard, she was down to four cats, and was working on homes for them as well.

But even after years, the smell of all of those cats never really abated.  You could always smell what they left behind, and it was never pleasant inside that house.  Of course, my parents understood our ambivalence about ever going to Aunt Bettie’s house again.  They knew very well how deeply and sorely we had suffered torment and physical agony. 

Betty Jo and I were always close, and the loss of our mittens that night just made us all that much more the closer siblings.   We stayed close until Betty Jo married and moved to St. Louis, Missouri.  It was one of the most sad moments of my young adult life.  Although only two years older than me, Betty Jo had been my “twin” so to speak, we were just of a single mind on most things and I did not enjoy her going away so suddenly.  I did not marry for seven more years when I was twenty-four.  She had married as soon as finishing high school.

Now, as for cats and mittens.  Mittens are vital for winter comfort.  They are warm and necessary.  Cats on the other hand are not necessary, they are a menace.  They have no conscience, are mischievous,  they are no way valuable in a home environment.  They can bring disease and even rabies.  But, the biggest impediment to my happiness was the night one or more of them stole a warm woolen mitten from the deepest pockets of my thick winter coat and set me out on a course for pain and agony.  Yes, to say I have contempt for cats and kittens. I don’t like anything that has to do with the feline population.  My goal is to stay away from them and enjoy the friendship that only dogs and puppies can provide.  Dogs have purpose, they are man’s best friend.  They seek out human company, for their own preservation, most likely, but they know what side their bread is buttered on.  Canine’s are loyal, faithful friends and will direct their energies to saving a human’s life.  They are not independent like the cat.

So, yes, I am a huge fan of dogs and puppies and would expend much resources to have and protect a canine friend, but as for the naughty, pompous, self-reliant cat. I have no desire to expend any resources for them or their care.  As for me, give me puppies and doggies, with ears held high that has respect and I will salute them.  Give me a cat and I will break out into hives.  Let not your heart be troubled, neither le it be afraid, get a dog and calm your nerves. I set out on a path when I was six years old to do just that, and after twenty years have passed, I am an ardent dog lover and cat despiser.  Give me dogs, yes, give me peace of mind.  Give me puppies, and yes I will have peace devine and loads of fun and joy unspeakable.  If there were no such thing as a cat, I could be happy.  If there was no such thing as a dog, I would be very sad, and my life would be a much emptier place, shallower and bereft of hope and dreams.

Of cats, I can say no more.  Of dogs, I could write a book about faithfulness, loyalty, happiness and joy.  Friendship and even comradery.  Other than a horse, I know of no other animal that will follow a human to see what it may receive.  And of the horse, well, it is just too large an animal to bring into the house for the evening.  But horses have much longer lives than dogs in general and will gladly take an apple, a bucket of oats as a solid offer of adherence to nobility and trust.  If I had a stable large enough, I would gladly have a few horses and take care of them.  I cannot say that about any cat I might ever have the misfortune of coming into direct contact with.  I can say with pride and affection, that I Love horses, but I admire and respect the canine. 

Give me dogs or give me death.  A motto to live by.  A dog never stole my warm woolen mitten.