The Onion in Me
People have a tendency to look remarkably like their pets. I’ll be the first to admit that I don’t look much like Onion; her round blue eyes, stubby legs, and short squished snout are all but alien to my own features. On the outside, I bear practically no resemblance to my feline friend. Yet on the inside I hope that I look even remotely as beautiful as she does.
Onion was only 2 months old, a furry ball of snow, vulnerable and fragile in the arms of a giant. She didn’t eat, her small frame shivered at the slightest hint of wind, and my father swore she wouldn’t live to see her next birthday. He suggested that we return her and choose another more ‘sturdy’ animal. I wouldn’t listen. I spent hours mashing chicken into unrecognizable slush, soaking it in warm water to help her swallow, and pushing it inch by inch out of the tip of a feeding syringe smaller than my index finger. At night I ran my fingers through that forest of white, listening for the eruption of purrs in her scrawny chest. In no time, we were inseparable. Slowly, she began to explore, her eyes brightened and her purrs strengthened, she went spiraling after doomed insects who crossed her path and swatted at almost anything that moved. It was as if my energy had dissipated into her. Contrary to my dad’s pessimism, she was very much alive for her first birthday. …show more content…
Together, we’ve dealt with loss, success, and failure. When I’m overjoyed, she is there to waltz around with me to the beat of my off-tune wailing. When I’m down, she is there to perch on my lap and fill me with her warmth. Just as I have, she learns from her slip-ups (which often end in the toilet bowl) and comes back a little bit wiser. Just as I do, she loves with all of her heart, devoting herself to those she cares for. Just as I will, she has grown beyond the feeble kitten that she once
People have a tendency to look remarkably like their pets. I’ll be the first to admit that I don’t look much like Onion; her round blue eyes, stubby legs, and short squished snout are all but alien to my own features. On the outside, I bear practically no resemblance to my feline friend. Yet on the inside I hope that I look even remotely as beautiful as she does.
Onion was only 2 months old, a furry ball of snow, vulnerable and fragile in the arms of a giant. She didn’t eat, her small frame shivered at the slightest hint of wind, and my father swore she wouldn’t live to see her next birthday. He suggested that we return her and choose another more ‘sturdy’ animal. I wouldn’t listen. I spent hours mashing chicken into unrecognizable slush, soaking it in warm water to help her swallow, and pushing it inch by inch out of the tip of a feeding syringe smaller than my index finger. At night I ran my fingers through that forest of white, listening for the eruption of purrs in her scrawny chest. In no time, we were inseparable. Slowly, she began to explore, her eyes brightened and her purrs strengthened, she went spiraling after doomed insects who crossed her path and swatted at almost anything that moved. It was as if my energy had dissipated into her. Contrary to my dad’s pessimism, she was very much alive for her first birthday. …show more content…
Together, we’ve dealt with loss, success, and failure. When I’m overjoyed, she is there to waltz around with me to the beat of my off-tune wailing. When I’m down, she is there to perch on my lap and fill me with her warmth. Just as I have, she learns from her slip-ups (which often end in the toilet bowl) and comes back a little bit wiser. Just as I do, she loves with all of her heart, devoting herself to those she cares for. Just as I will, she has grown beyond the feeble kitten that she once