Like Cats and Dogs: The Moth Radio Hour

Hey, it's Chloe Salmon from The Moth. As a story director, I talk to a lot of people who say they want to tell a story but don't know where to start. A tip I give them, get specific. What's a moment that meant something to you? Your first home run, that road trip with your dad, the time you bombed at the talent show. Start there, then build on that foundation. You can find tips to help you identify those moments along with prompts to inspire them in The Moth's new guided journal, My Life in Stories. Whether you want to find your own story, reflect on your life, or even give it as a gift, you can order your copy at themoth.org forward slash my life in stories. That's themoth.org forward slash my life in stories. ["Moth Radio Hour"] This is The Moth Radio Hour. I'm your host, Alistair Bain. In this episode, we'll be celebrating the bonds between people and animals. I live in Colorado with an assorted pack of dogs and foster dogs, including two formerly feral dogs and a pit bull that carries his teddy bear with him wherever he goes. I've learned so much from my own pets about courage, resilience, loyalty, and I even developed some fairly advanced reupholstering skills because sometimes a sofa will be mistaken for a rather large chew toy. In this hour, we will hear seven storytellers share stories about themselves and their relationship to the animal kingdom. Catherine Palmer told this first story at an open mic story slam we produced in Pittsburgh, where we partner with Public Radio Station WESA. Live from the Rex Theater, here's Catherine Palmer. I'm a city person. I wasn't born in the city. I moved to the city, to the south side of Pittsburgh, as an adult. Now, city people expect a couple things, light and noise, and we get pretty nervous if it gets too dark or too quiet. Now, we're the only people in our family that live in the city. My husband's four sisters live in dark, quiet places, and the darkest, quietest home is my sister-in-law, who runs a hostel with her husband and her two little girls in the middle of nowhere. Now, this kind of nowhere is where there's no cell service, no internet access, and I found myself there one night after having been in a meeting in Philly, which is a very nice, noisy, bright city. And we had a lovely dinner and we were waiting to check in the next hostel guests, and it was getting later, and that was a problem because my niece was gonna have a performance that night, and somebody was gonna have to stay behind, so I volunteered. What could go wrong? I would be in a very dark, quiet place with no cell reception, letting strangers into the house. Perfect. So I waved them off, and I went to the living room to read a book. Turns out I can't read if it's completely quiet. I need a little bit of noise. So I headed to the kitchen to get a drink, because you can do that in the dark and quiet. And I stopped in my tracks because there was a snake in front of me. Not a big snake, like a foot long, like maybe a baby snake, and the cat was pawing at it on the kitchen floor. So this is one of those moments where you stop and you're trying to make sense of something that absolutely does not make sense. So I assessed the situation. There was a baby snake on the floor. At least I assumed it was a baby, it was very small. The cat seemed to be involved in how it got there, and oddly familiar with it. And my nieces were known to have strange pets up in their room. So I had to assume there was a mother snake that had a baby. But at this point, I realized I know very little about the reproductive habits of snakes. And with no internet access, this wasn't going to change. So the only reasonable explanation is that this was a pet snake or the baby of a pet snake. And I needed to keep it safe from the cat. So three things were clear. I was not going to touch this snake. I did need to do something to keep the cat away from it. And this was a perfect opportunity to become the favorite aunt. I could save the pet baby snake. So I got a clear casserole dish out of the cabinet and put it over the snake. So the snake would see out, but the cat couldn't get at it. Problem solved. So I headed back to the living room with my drink. But I could not relax, because I got thinking, how much oxygen is in a casserole? And how much oxygen does a baby snake need? And to this day, I don't know the answer to either of those questions. But I decided it would be safe if I went back like every 10 minutes and just lifted the casserole, there'd be new oxygen. It would be fine. So I headed back to the kitchen, and there were four baby snakes. One under the casserole, three loose. So I got three more baking dishes and sequestered the snakes. And right then, there's a knock on the door. The hostile people have arrived. Now the good news is, they don't need to come through the kitchen. So I get them settled. But now it's been like 15 minutes. I've got to get back and get oxygen to all the baby snakes. So I'm back, and there are five new baby snakes. OK, so I realized two things. One, snakes have litters of babies, clearly. And two, I don't have any more clear baking dishes. So I go over to the hostel to raid their baking dishes. And I come back with an armful, and there are two more baby snakes added to the crowd. So at the height of this, there are 11 baby snakes in glass cages all over the kitchen floor. This is now a full-time activity, just getting them oxygen. And furthermore, it's not a big kitchen. So I'm using the baking dishes as stepping stones as I navigate this space. I am all in. But it's OK, because really, all I have to do is wait for my nieces to come home and shower me in love and praise for what I have gone through to protect their pet baby snakes. I'm kind of growing attached to my charges. And I hear the car, they're home, and my older niece comes in the door, and she says, oh, not again. This is not the greeting I expected. And she and her sister, unceremoniously, lift up the baking dishes, grab the snakes, and throw them out the kitchen door into the forest. So later, I would find that adult snakes come into their basement and lay eggs. Now I know how snakes reproduce. And the cat can't resist just depositing them all over the house. So as we're starting to clean up, my sister-in-law turns to me and says, now, if this ever happens again, the look on my face must have made it clear this was never going to happen again. So I settled in to wash 11 casserole dishes and look forward to going back to the city. That was Catherine Palmer. I just love the compassion she had for all those baby snakes. The other day, I was thinking that maybe I had too many baking dishes, but I think I'll hold on to them now. Catherine works as an audiologist in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. Her sister-in-law's family has since moved to the city because baby snakes in the kitchen eventually lost their appeal. Our next story comes from Jutesch Joggy. He told it live on stage at the Athenaeum Theater in Chicago where we partner with public radio station WBEZ. Here's Jutesch. My wife showed me a picture of her grandmother petting a lion cub and said, we need to at least adopt a dog ASAP. I knew this day was going to come. She grew up with a family that owned entire animal zoos, lived all her life with pets capable of immediately devouring her. My last relationship with the dog was when it had its teeth in my butt cheeks. I was nine years old in India and was dancing in front of the stray dog that often rested outside my grandma's home. To think that she still continued to feed him pained me in my heart and my ass. So I asked my wife how about we get a foster dog instead, meaning we get to host the dog for a few days temporarily until someone else can adopt them permanently. The foster agency heard our request and my wife came home with coconut, a shitsuit mixed with a silky black coat covering entire body. It looked like my wife brought home a bunch of synthetic wigs. Coconut had a cone around her neck, reminiscent of one of the characters from the Handmaid's Tale. That was because she got spayed that morning. She was ten years old, she is ten years old, and to think that she hadn't been spayed until now, painted us a grim picture of her past. I work from home, by the way. So from the next morning, coconut and I became involuntary housemates. On day one, I learned that she doesn't really make eye contact and stays hidden under a table all day long. On day two, I realized she doesn't even respond to her name. So I figured maybe the foster agency just assigned the name coconut to her and I started to try a hundred different names the same day. All day I went, Olive, Cheddar, Buttercup, Todd. I knew her hearing was intact because she leaped at me when she heard me open a Kit Kat. So I figured it out. She just didn't care. And so I just sat next to her throughout the day. At one time, she protruded her little head from under the table, rested it on my lap and slept. I couldn't help but notice that she snores. She had a Harley Davidson engine in her diaphragm. On day three, she gets called in for an extensive knee surgery. I had just started to be less squeezy about her space car. So I just reminded myself that I was just a temporary host and she was going to go to another foster home soon anyway. But that night, coconut came back home from the wet, crying, and continued to cry into the night. She had twelve staples on her leg that was cut from her thigh all the way down to her foot. Combined with a space car, almost a quarter of her little body was in stitches. I had asked for an easy dog because of my inexperience. But this dog needed to be consoled round the clock. And I couldn't even bring myself to look at her staple leg. So my wife took care of her and I watched them both from a distance, too weak-hearted to even come close. I have seen animals suffering, but never one that was under my care. This felt personal, like I was responsible to put her in her misery. And unexpectedly, this same line of thinking brought me the solution. I reminded myself of all the stray dogs back in India, including the ones that bit me. How many of them often had open wounds with no shelter to recover in. Coconut at least had healthy food, meds, and a loving home. As bad as it was, I had to remind myself that she was in safe hands. So the next morning, I woke up and I approached her gently but firmly. Lifted her in my arms as she looked me in the eyes for the first time. And in our own little way, I let her know that she was going to be fine, that this was going to pass. It was like both of us had emerged from under our respective tables we were hiding under. A month later, her scars healed up and it was now time to find her a permanent home to be adopted in. Her cone was gone and she had started to camouflage in black rugs effortlessly. She won but we had failed at being foster parents. Our adopted coconut is at home right now knowing well that she's too precious to be let go of and is right now waiting for her second dinner. That was Jutesh Chagi. Jutesh is currently working on a book of essays and coaches other storytellers. Coco is enjoying her golden years, often going on road trips throughout the country with her new family. Coco has her own stroller for times when she doesn't feel like walking and Jutesh says it's delightful to see people's reactions when they find a senior dog rather than a newborn baby in the carriage. I absolutely love senior dogs. They are mellow, are well past the furniture eating stage and have gained a lifetime of knowledge. In fact, my senior dog has gained the knowledge that I can't leave home without him if he buries the keys under the deck. Coming up, Cat People vs Dog People, when the Moth Radio Hour continues. The Moth Radio Hour is produced by Atlantic Public Media in Woods Hole, Massachusetts. This is a Moth Radio Hour. I'm Alistair Bain. In this hour we are celebrating the relationships we have with animals, cats, dogs, slithering creatures and more. Next up, we have a story from Katie Vaca. She told it live on the stage at the Crescent Ballroom in Phoenix where we partner with Public Radio Station KJZZ. Here's Katie Vaca. I love to hate cats. I come from a family that doesn't particularly care for cats. In fact, my mom not only dislikes cats very much but she has an actual cat phobia. And like any good old-fashioned familial conditioning, that fear has been passed down to me. And despite my best efforts to avoid these creatures, somehow they have highlighted some pretty important moments in my life. The very first conversation I had with my husband was regarding cats. In 2009, my sister's dog had a litter of puppies and his family took my favorite one. I don't remember exactly what I said but I sent him a message on Facebook saying something along the lines of, I'm so happy for you guys, she's the best. I do have remember exactly what my husband said to me. It was one sentence and it read, I'm more of a cat person. And I thought to myself, this guy is rude and he's a cat person, that's two strikes. But my husband also happens to be tall, dark and handsome, so what are you going to do? A year later we started dating and things got pretty serious and we started to spend a lot of time together. And as a result, I spent a lot of time with his cat Frank. Frank was an indoor-outdoor orange tabby. He was a really proficient hunter and he would bring in sometimes living, sometimes dead, lizards, mice, hummingbirds. And although I'm told this is a sign of love and infection, I did not care for having a half decapitated lizard dropped into my lap. And this was like immersion therapy for me. I was having reoccurring nightmares that thousands of cats were coming in from every window and door of my house going to scratch off my face. But I had to make a decision. I was falling in love with this rude cat guy and Frank came along with him. So I decided to learn about Frank and as I learned about him, my fear started to lessen and we developed a bond. He would greet me at the door when I would walk in and roll around on his back. It was pretty cute. I would give him my shoes to indulge his weird shoe fetish. He would meow and scratch incessantly at my door at four in the morning to let me know he wanted his food bowl topped off. And as time went on, our bond grew stronger and he really became my first cat friend. In 2015, I got a call from a dear childhood friend of mine, Matt. And I don't have enough time to tell you all the things I'd like to tell you about Matt, but I'd like to highlight my favorite qualities about him. Magnetic, hilarious, intelligent, and I love to spend time with him. And I'll never forget it. I was pacing around Ikea as he was explaining to me that he hadn't been feeling well and he went to the doctor. And they discovered that his colon was covered in tumors and he was diagnosed with a really aggressive form of colon cancer. And I know there's many of you out there that can empathize with the feeling of your gut dropping and desperately wanting to do or say something to make something go away and there's nothing. He had a girlfriend that uprooted her life in Los Angeles to be here with him during his course of treatment. And I started to feel a real push and pull. The push of wanting to spend all the time that I could with my friend and tell him everything I was thinking and feeling. And the pull of not wanting to be intrusive during a sensitive time. I didn't want to take away time that he could be spending with other people and I did not want to remind my friend that he was sick. So I was reserved to keeping it really light and checking in. Hey, how's it going? Thinking of you praying for you? Let me know if you need anything. And that was it. And in 2017, Matt died and I was devastated and I felt this deep feeling of regret at not having had the opportunity but more importantly the courage to have told my friend how much he meant to me while he was here. I didn't tell him that I loved him. I didn't tell him that he had changed my life for the better. I didn't tell him that he was one of the best people I had the privilege of knowing and I didn't tell him how much I would miss him when he was gone. Later that year his girlfriend decided it was time to get her life back on track and move back to California. And in the process she couldn't bring her cat with her to the apartment she had found. And without hesitation I said I would take him and I immediately started having anxiety. Because while I knew and liked Frank, my husband's cat, I was not sold on cats. I was still really scared of them and I had visions of this thing coming into my life and being really mean and destroying my house. But I did it without hesitation because it felt like something I could grab onto. Something that I could do for my friend by lightening the load for someone that had loved and cared for him during his time of need. And luckily for me, aside from taking a massive dump on my brand new couch the first night he was in our home, Juan Carlos, the giant Russian blue cat is one of the nicest animals you'll ever meet. He's a stage five clinger. He wants to snuggle me from head to toe and he's part of the family. In the fall of last year, Frank got really sick, my husband's cat, my first cat friend and he was dying of kidney failure. And we had to take him to the vet for that awful vet appointment that I had only ever heard about. My husband and I drove home with our empty pet carrier. We crawled into bed with Juan Carlos. I thought about my friend Matt, I thought about Frank and I cried. I cried over a cat. I cried over one cat as I was deeply comforted by another and now I hate to love cats. Thank you. That was Katie Vaca. Katie is a marriage and couples therapist and spends her time outside of work with her husband Ricky and of course Juan Carlos. Our next story is from Beth Bradley at the Denver Moss Story Slam where we partner with public radio station KU NC. I was in the audience that night and it's always great to hear from a fellow dog person. Here is Beth. So Susie was not a perfect dog, but she was our dog and we loved her. My mom first laid eyes on her at the animal shelter and she just fell in love with Susie's cute little foxy face and she had this curly tail and thick black fur. So my whole family, my dad, my mom and my two sisters and I headed over there to see if we had a good vibe with Susie. And I do remember that the animal shelter lady pointed out she was worried that my dad and Susie might not be bonding that well. And that was probably true. My dad is not that much of an animal person and kind of thinks of pets as just like another hassle to deal with. But as usual, the rest of us overruled my dad and we got to bring Susie home and she became our first family dog. So to be fair, Susie really could be kind of a hassle. Her favorite hobby was barking at anyone that dared to walk by our house. And the other thing she liked to try to do was escape. So one time she actually combined those hobbies and she launched herself through the front window of her house through the screen in pursuit of some strangers. So we had to go lower her back into our house. But on the other hand, she could be very sweet. So like one time I remember in high school, I had broken up with a boyfriend and I was crying and Susie came and just like leaned up against me. And I could tell she was like, you know, got your back. So but over the years, my dad's feelings towards Susie didn't really warm up. He kind of just tolerated her generally thought of her as pretty annoying. But honestly, my dad could make my sisters and I feel that way too sometimes like, yeah, like it was, it was hard to ask him for help. And he could kind of, you know, respond to us in the same way that he was annoyed with Susie the dog. But one night we were all sitting down to dinner. We were going to get to watch TV and eat dinner at the same time in the TV room, which was a big deal. So we're all getting set up and we noticed Susie's nowhere. And so one other thing about Susie is like she might not have been as into us as we were into her. So she really just mainly liked waiting at the window for people to bark at. But dinner time was one time she would dame to be with us because she liked to eat the crumbs off the floor. So it was very suspicious that she wasn't around. So we're calling for her like Susie, Susie, she's not coming. So we figure she must be outside. So my two sisters and I go outside to look for her. We're calling for her some more. We don't see her, but we do see this little shape toward the back of the yard. So we're running toward it. And as we get closer, we hear this kind of like weird low wheezing sound. And we get there, we see that it's Susie and it's her little limp body. She's laying there and she's actually gotten her head stuck in a drain from the house and she's suffocating. So we're panicking. We're screaming for my parents. They run outside and it's kind of a blur. Like my mom finds the kitchen scissors to actually like cut her out of this tube and we free her. But by that time she's not breathing and we're just panicking. So my dad scoops her up and I just remember her little head just kind of lost to the side and her eyes had kind of glassed over. So we run inside the house and just like total pandemonium crying, trying to find the vet's number. My dad's just sitting there on the couch holding her and we're kind of looking at him. He's looking up at us. And without saying anything, he cups his hand around Susie's snout and he puts his mouth on her mouth. And he blows. And then he does it again. And we're just in like total stunned silence. And another thing to know about Susie is we had seen her eat like a lot of disgusting crap in her life. Like she literally would eat crap and like you know dead birds and that kind of thing. So I really would like to know that animal shelter lady's opinion of their bond in that moment. So he does it a few more times. He blows a few more times and then it was like a spell lifted. Susie's eyes like pop open. Like I see the life just flood into them just like sleeping beauty or something and she's kind of blinking and my dad sets her down. We're all just like in complete shock. Susie's looking up at us like what? And we have the vet on the phone by that time and we're explaining what happened and he's like, well, is she like walking around and everything? And we're like, yeah. And he's like, I think she's okay. So she was, she was okay. And she actually lived a very long time after that. She lived a very happy life. She became old enough to become incontinent actually and like she so my that was one more thing my dad got to deal with was changing Susie's dog diapers. But I thought a lot about that moment in the year since like my dad looking up at us and us looking at him. And I don't think that he realized his love for her and that's what made him kiss our dog on the mouth. I think that he really just couldn't stand to see our hearts broken and he did it because he loved us. So I think dogs are not perfect. Dads are not perfect, but love itself is perfect. And sometimes it even gives you magic powers. That was Beth Bradley. Beth is a marketing content manager and has been listening to the moths since she was a teenager. Beth and her sisters all have their own dogs today and the three dogs all adore their granddad. She believes that feeling is mutual. She believes that feeling is mutual. Over the years I've met many people who started out as reluctant dog or cat owners. My stepdad was somewhat reluctant to have a dog until I asked him and my mother to watch a foster dog for a few days while I was out of town. On the second day I was gone I got a text asking what if we don't want to give him back. Preston ended up living a long life with them and accumulating a stockpile of plush toys that rivaled the inventory of major toy stores. By the way you can check out the Moth.org for information about moth story slams in your area. And you can find us on social media at The Moth. Coming up sometimes we rescue animals and sometimes they save us when the Moth Radio Hour continues. The Moth Radio Hour is produced by Atlantic Public Media in Woods Hole, Massachusetts. You're listening to The Moth Radio Hour. I'm Alistair Bain. Those of us who love our pets will go to great lengths for them. I've done emergency vet runs and blizzards, fed orphan puppies every hour around the clock. And recently I searched a quarter acre of backyard in the dark. When my border collies stole and buried my pit bull's teddy bear and he couldn't fall asleep without it. Our next story comes from Lisa Schult about her dog Sadie. She shared it live on stage at the Miramar Theater in Milwaukee where we partner with Public Radio Stations, WPR and Radio Milwaukee. Here's Lisa Schult live at The Moth. My husband Mike and I have an Airdale Terrier named Sadie. We love Sadie as only empty nesters can love their dog. Now we were both married before and brought into our marriage children. And our kids have expressed jealousy over Sadie because A, well A, B, C and D, Sadie has both her parents with her. Isn't that cute? One of the highlights of our week is we always take a good long walk with Sadie on Sundays. And I'll have you know tomorrow is Sadie's third to last chemotherapy treatment. She is in total remission. Thank you, thank you. And on Sunday mornings it's our habit to take a long walk with Sadie. These days we walked on the Starbucks where we all rest for a little bit. Sit outside no matter what the weather. We're the fools there in January sitting outside with our Monkas. And then we walk home again. We used to go to the dog park in Wauwatosa. I don't know if any of you are familiar with it. It's a great place to walk. There's the big open area with all the frozen dog poop in the winter. The melting dog poop in the spring and the icky dog poop in the summer. Then there's a huge wooded area where there are abandoned concrete walkways and curbed roadways. There's ginormous and beautiful concrete staircases that majestically descend into what I assume were formal gardens. So we used to love to go out there. Sadie could run around off leash. We'd walk around through these woods and these pathways. We would often end up at the one and only Popper Cemetery. This cemetery is a pond. I don't think it's natural because it's perfectly rectangular, but it was a good place for... I don't know, but I grew up in a small town and we never had square ponds. But there are always geese and ducks on the pond. And Sadie would like to chase them. So one winter's day, one February day, but it was one of those February days that give the promise of spring. You know those days? It's warm, but you still have to dress for winter because it is winter and because this is Wisconsin. But you knew spring was going to come, probably by June 5th or so. The skies were blue, the sun was shining. It was above freezing. It was nice out, but we had to dress for winter. I had the old lady boots on because I'm an old lady. And you know the kind with a really icky fake fur around the top. And I had one of those poofy winter jackets on. It was red. So we walked, we went down to the pond. Sadie chased the ducks and the geese off the ice. And then she saw open water, so she went to get a drink. Sadie walked up to the edge. The ice broke. Sadie went in. This is our favorite, we call her the good daughter. She's in the water, dog paddling. She does not swim on purpose. She likes to wade, but she does not swim on purpose. And she's got those big old eyes and she's looking mom, dad. And she puts her little paws up on the ice and it breaks. And she puts her little paws up on the ice and it breaks. Now, I don't know, this is a fairly young audience. I hope you've all seen the movie. It's a wonderful life. It's a wonderful movie. But in the movie, a little Harry Bailey falls to the ice. All the kids make a human chain. They army crawl out on the ice. They reach out a shovel to a little Harry Bailey. He grabs on, they pull him in. I've seen it's a wonderful life at least 30 times. I know what to do. Two problems. There's only me and Mike. We don't have a shovel, but this is the good daughter. I am on my belly on the ice. I army crawl out on the ice. Mike doesn't swim, so he's not even part of the chain. God knows. At this point in time, my whole vision is kind of tunneled. You've had that happen. I'm looking at the good daughter. I am out on the ice. I'm crawling, crawling. I reach out, I touch her, the ice breaks. Now, it is February. I'm in the water. I'm dog paddling too. We're both dog paddling. I'm not going to be too small because I'm going to die. But I'm knowing that I'm going to eventually have to hold Sadie's head above water. While I'm paddling with my feet, while my husband Mike tries to figure out what to do. So I'm paddling, paddling, paddling. And of course I put my hands up the ice breaks, put my hands up the ice breaks. And through that panic, through that fog, I hear a voice. And it's Mike and he's saying, Stand up! No, wait, wait, wait! If I stop paddling, I'll sink, I'll drown. I put my feet down and I feel muck, the kind of muck that will grab you and drag you in. So I paddle, paddle. Honey, stand up! Put my feet down a little further. I feel solid earth. I stand up. I look Sadie's ugly. I'm shaking off, running to Daddy. Look what mom's doing. I walk to shore, boats filled with water jacket. I learned something that day. Next time you feel like you're over your head, you're drowning, you're losing your nerve, just stand up! Applause That was Lisa Schult. Sadie responded well to the chemotherapy and lived to be 14 years old. Today, Lisa and her husband Mike offer dog sitting services and when they're not caring for canine guests, they love to travel. Next we go to Boston to hear a story Patrick Cleary shared at an open mic night. Here's Patrick. Applause Thanks. So in the last year of her life, my cat Rita had a vomiting problem. She vomited everywhere. Now she didn't like to vomit on anything hard. She liked to be on soft surfaces. So she would jump up on the bed or on the couch and all of that was a little bit difficult to clean up. She was a lady though. She would warn you. She would go, wow, wow, wow, wow, blah, you know. And she had not only trained me, she trained all my friends and family that if we were like having people over to dinner, if you heard, wow, wow, wow, everybody would get up and run to wherever she was and put her on the floor. Now Rita was the first of what I call the indeterminate cat sitting adoptions, which is if anybody says, could you take care of my cat, but it's for an indeterminate amount of time, you've adopted a cat, right? It's now happened to me multiple times and I fall for it every time. It's like, we just don't know just a couple of days and then a long time later you're like, this is my cat. And I got her from a friend of mine who I had never met. This was back in the days, well, it was back in the days of when the internet was new and it was bulletin board system and a woman who lived nearby said, my husband, I need to leave him. And he said, if I leave, he'll kill the animals. And so I said, okay, well, I'll take in your cat and she also had a little dog and I took care of them for a couple of weeks and then when she got herself established, she came back and she said, well, I can take the dog, but even though my husband's now in prison, he got me pregnant and I can't clean a cat box because of the toxoplasmosis. Pregnant women aren't supposed to clean out cat boxes. And so what I didn't tell her was that I wasn't supposed to be cleaning cat boxes either because I had just been diagnosed with HIV and toxoplasmosis is really bad for people with HIV as well. But she said Rita was a 17 year old cat. She wasn't going to live for very much longer and at the time I felt like I might not live very much longer either because my CD4 count wasn't doing so well. And because I'm really a drama queen, I figured we would just sit on the couch. The two of us wasting away and they'd find us because we had died exactly at the same time. So I figured a 17 year old cat, a guy who's probably going to perish, we're probably made for one another. Now Rita was declawed. The woman who had her before me didn't declaw her. The woman before her had declawed the cat. But Rita also liked to pretend that she was scratching the furniture and she'd look at me. And because I'm a good guy I'd say, stop that. And she'd be like, and she'd walk away. It made her feel good. It made her feel dangerous. Now because Rita was 17 years old, she only lasted eight more years. And we went through a lot together. I went through a really hard time. Not only had I gone through HIV with a lot of medications that didn't work out for me, I also had lost my house, I had lost my job, I had lost my car. She was with me the whole time just pretending to scratch the furniture and throwing up on it. So it worked out really well. But eventually it was her time. And I was in a much better place. And so I did have to make the decision to put her down after reaching 25. I mean that's 630 in human years I would want to go to. But she did teach me a number of lessons. One is that if anybody ever tells you, can you take my cat for a few days? You own a cat. The second is if someone wants to feel dangerous, just let them. And the third is if you are going to feel like a badass and throw up, be a lady and warn people about it. Thank you. That was Patrick Cleary. Patrick is a cat owner, playwright and storyteller from Boston, Massachusetts. Since Rita Patrick has been the proud parent of four other cats. Some of whom were actually adopted on purpose. Thank you Patrick for the wisdom that there is no such thing as a temporary cat. Our final story is told by Linda Torres at a slam we produced in Seattle, which is supported by Public Radio Station KUOW. Live from the Fremont Abbey Arts Center, here's Linda Torres. The happiest moment in my life was when I jumped into my husband's arms and I got back home from Afghanistan. Yeah, yeah. So he picked me up from Fort Bend, Georgia, if you know where that is. And we drove to D.C. where I was stationed. I was so excited to see Gina. She hadn't seen me in like six or seven months and she came to, she came home and it would always be an empty house. And then she saw me and she was just like, oh, oh, that's my person. So she came up to me and ran up to me and she had her tail wagging just enthusiastically and she came up to me and kissed me and circled me. So that was wonderful. Wonderful. So the next day, Adam, my husband, went to work, was really busy and had a lot of work to do. I, on the other hand, had a lot of days off. I was really bonely and alienated. And I found out that I had a back injury so I couldn't run or do yoga or do any of those things that I like to do for stress relief. So, but what I did was I walked to Gina a ton and I played fetch with her and I read books about war stories because I felt connected to the people in the books and stuff. But Adam was acting a little strange. He would come home late and he would be really withdrawn and quiet and stuff. So I sat him down and I was just like, what is up? And he said, you were gone and I liked it. I never wanted to be married to you. So, yeah. So it didn't work out. So, yeah, but divorce was still really hard for me. I mean, I thought I was going to be with him for the rest of my life. So I remember deciding to buy a nice purple climbing rope from REI and I was going to logistically figure out, I was going to go on a walk with Gina and logistically I was going to figure out which tree to hang myself on. So I finally found a tree. Then Gina found the stick. And usually that means that you got to stop whatever you're doing because you got to throw the stick. So I threw the stick and she came back to me and she had a smile and enthusiastically wagging tail. And that moment I knew that I had to take care of her and she was going to take care of me. So the Army decided to move me across the country to Washington State and I told Adam that I wanted to take Gina with me because she was my best friend during this really dark time. He told me he couldn't say no to me. So we moved here. Washington State is, there's something so transformative about living here and that's, I don't know if it's the air, the views, the mountain. It was fantastic. It's been fantastic. So after you're of living here, the Army said you're going to deploy again. So I sent Gina to stay with my family down in San Diego. My dad really enjoyed it. He said that he had found a partner to keep him healthy. So after a couple of weeks, the Army said, just kidding, you got canceled for that deployment. So I went down to Retriever. So my dad was just like, hey, can I have your dog? And I said, no, but you could, you know, like, I said no, but you could, like during the flu season, I work a ton. So, and I'm going to be working on grad school and stuff. So you could keep her for a couple of months. So flu season came around and I sent Gina down to San Diego. It was time I didn't go with her. She, my parents noticed that she was drinking a lot of water and that she was really tired. And we thought like she was really anxious from the flight and just really tired. So the next afternoon, my mom decided to cook her bacon. And Gina came up to her and she collapsed. And that was it. Yeah, the next couple of days were a border painful. I knew I had to tell one person who loved her as much as I did. And that was Adam. Though we grew apart in passions, we loved, we had the same love for a wonderful, amazing dog. I am so thankful that I had her. She saved me. Through her, I learned about focus, joy, and true love. Thank you. That was Linda Torres. Linda has since moved to Philadelphia with her Golden Retriever Ari, where she earned her doctorate in nursing practice. She continues to work and volunteer in the veterans community. Thank you for your service, Linda. To see photos of Linda and her dog as well as other storytellers and their pets, go to themoth.org. While you're there, have you ever felt like you have a story you'd like to tell us? It might be about friends of the four or two-legged variety, about a temporary cat or a temporary house guest. If so, you can pitch us a story right on our site or call 877-799-Moth. That's 877-799-6684. That's it for this episode of The Moth Radio Hour. We hope you'll join us next time, and that's a story from The Moth. This episode of The Moth Radio Hour was produced by me, Jay Allison, Katherine Burns, and Alistair Bain, a storyteller from Colorado, who also hosted this show. Co-producer is Vicki Merrick, Associate Producer, and Director of the Moth Radio. Grand Slam Coaching by Jody Powell. The rest of the Moth's leadership team includes Sarah Haberman, Sarah Austin-Genes, Jennifer Hickson, Meg Bowles, Kate Tellers, Jennifer Birmingham, Marina Cluchet, Suzanne Rust, Brandon Grant, Inga Gledowski, Sarah Jane Johnson, and Aldi Kaza. Moth stories are true as remembered and affirmed by the storytellers. Our theme music is by The Drift. Other music in this hour is from Epidemic Sound. This music production support from Davie Sumner. We receive funding from the National Endowment for the Arts. The Moth Radio Hour is produced by Atlantic Public Media in Woods Hole, Massachusetts. Special thanks to our friends at Odyssey, including Executive Producer Leah Reese-Dennis. For more about our podcast, for information on pitching us your own story and everything else, go to our website, TheMoth.org.