CHUCKLES

I was a heroin addict for many years. I moved through the levels of addiction-first going to school and working, then not doing anything but drugs. All through this I had cats. I always had cats. Growing up I had a crazy family life, no brothers or sisters and was also a nerd. So I was a lonely kid. But I always had my cats.

Eventually my drug use led to me losing my apartment. I went to live in an SRO. I wasn’t supposed to have a cat. I did though-Chuckles.. When the owner found out he gave me a choice-get rid of the cat or he’d kick me out. So I kept the cat. I stayed away from the SRO for about three weeks-sleeping outside. No one understood why I would do that but my addiction had cost me so much and I had failed so many people I couldn’t lose Chuckles too. He was one of the few pieces of a world outside of drugs, if not the only piece. Eventually I figured it was safe to go back to the SRO again. (My boyfriend at the time was there all the time I was gone.) The head of Kitty Kind, a cat rescue that has cats for adoption at Petco in Union Square, gave me a soft sided carrier. I would sneak Chuckles in and out with me, afraid that if I left him in the room the owner would go in and find him and put him out on the street. Sometimes I couldn’t sneak him back in so I’d stay out and sleep on the street. Really, the SRO was such a dump that being outside with my friends was actually better. I took him to panhandle with me. He had many friends and people who bought us both food every day. One guy bought him a quarter pound of slice turkey every day. And a bottle of water plus soup and juice for me.

Eventually I lost the SRO too. So I was out permanently with Chuckles. When we’d go to sleep at night he’d put his head on my hand. If anyone came close he’d wake me up by meowing. He’d also meow if he needed to go to the bathroom. I’d then carry him away from where we were sleeping because he wouldn’t go where we slept.

I finally got clean. It’s been six years now. I still have Chuckles. And though I have other cats too now, Chuckles and I still have a special bond. He meows at me and I know what he means usually. Sometimes is food (well, he is a cat), sometimes it’s water (he won’t drink out of a bowl-only a glass or the tap. Sometimes it’s just for attention. And sometimes I don’t know and he looks at me like I am a not very bright child. He is pretty old now. He only has one tooth left. During the day he sleeps on my pillow and at night he still sleeps with his head on my hand. When I run into to people from back in my drug days they almost always ask me about Chuckles. And it makes me happy to say yes, I still have him and he’s healthy. It makes me glad that back when I was given a choice to get rid of him I chose to hold onto him and the ties he gave me to a world that wasn’t ruled by drugs. I am glad that we stuck together.

SQUEE’S JOURNEY

“Squee the pug was out with his dad in the city. Coming home, Squee was put on the subway platform but in an instant he walked onto the A express train going uptown. Ian came home crying. We papered the streets and subway with pictures and information. Fourteen hours later a woman calls saying she may have found my baby and dropped him off at the Humane Society. I ran there and had to pay $250 to get him shots he already had. But we paid, we had to, you always do whatever you can to save your baby.”

-IAN