My Menagerie

After I fled my home, I was lonely. I had dogs and cats at home. I could no longer see them. I had planned to take my cat Louie with me. My husband told me that all the other dogs and cats really got along well with Louie and it wasn't fair for me to take them with me. He refused to cooperate with me. Then came a day that my daughter called to ask if I had picked him up, because they couldn't find him. I was scared for him. I told her to go to the SPCA and city/county animal shelter web sites to see if he had been picked up. I decided to go to the city animal shelter myself at lunchtime, where I ran into my daughter. She showed me a kitten that she thought I would really like to adopt. She didn't want to give up Louie either. She called him her cat. Louie was eventually found, but by then I had adopted Simon.

I missed Louie terribly. but now I had Simon in my life. I loved him so. At night before sleep I would watch TV in my bedroom. He would lie at the foot of the bed watching with me. I would play songs for cats during the day to keep him calm. he was alone all day while I was at work. I wanted to find a companion for him. I didn't want to get another rambunctious kitten, so I looked for a mature cat. Someone who would keep him company, but not proceed to wreck the apartment.

A nice couple had an adult female cat they needed to find a home for. Her name was Cali (a calico). So, Cali, Simon and I lived together for a few years in that one-bedroom apartment. I scattered bird seed on the deck of the balcony so they could watch birds through the sliding glass door while I was out. There were two trees outside my balcony that the squirrels chased each other up and down and all around every day. We were very happy.

I painted. Simon helped. Cali and he groomed each other. They watched the birds and squirrels. We hung out together. The rhythm of normalcy began. My personal menagerie began.

I named my Etsy shop Diane's Menagerie. I painted animals, trying to capture the spark of intelligence, personality, or the feelings that each picture evoked. My hope was that I could earn some extra money to pay for the bills that my husband left me with. My wish was that I could increase my income, maybe sell a story or two. Perhaps be able to not only reinvent myself, but to build a better life for myself going forward.

I never made enough to help with my financial struggles, but I did occupy myself with something positive. I enjoyed painting. And that was enough to get me through my dark days.