A Penny For My Thoughts

On The Se7enth – At Se7en

By Paul Wein

If someone asked me if I was a parent, I would have to say no, because I do not have a human child of my own. But as far as I am concerned – I am indeed a parent – because I have Beavis. He may be a “cat” to the rest of the world – but to me – he is my son. And on August 7th – he turned seven – and I could not be more proud.

I can still remember the first day I got him. He was so small and so afraid of us and my home at the time. But in no time flat – he warmed up to me and his new home. In fact, seven years later – he actually hugs me and licks my head every single day I come home from work. In fact, I have to say hello to him when I get home from work before I can even say hi to Julie – or else he gets really jealous and mad. He also helps me get ready in the morning – although he gets depressed because I am going to work – and happily helps me put my things away when I get home – because he knows I am staying with him.

The reason I feel like a parent is simple. We have all seen movies where the father comes home from work and his children run to the door to greet him – and Beavis is no different. Each and every day I come home – he runs to the door and actually stands up on his hind legs and stretches his arms out waiting for me to pick him up. And when I do – he literally hugs me and I have to wait at least ten minutes before I can take my suit off – because he is still welcoming me home.

From March of 2006 to December of last year, he lived with Christine, my ex-girlfriend, very good friend – and “mother” of Beavis. While I knew that he was in good hands and was not worried about his well being – that was the most difficult period of my life with Beavis. I saw him maybe once a week, if that – and even went to San Diego, California for three months. With a human child, you can explain why daddy is going away – but with Beavis – all I could do was leave and have him wonder why I was gone. But thankfully, he is here with me now in New Jersey – and back to his normal self.

Now that he is seven, I – although he is a cat – now understand the term, “You can’t teach an old dog new tricks.” He meows incessantly (like he is right now at 4:44 am), he uses my bathroom floor as his litter box, completely ignoring the actual one – and he uses my bed as his scratching post – even though he has one. But despite all that – I love him as if he was my own biological child – and nothing will ever change that.

When Christine suggested that we should get a cat when we first started dating, I was hesitant at first, but I told her that if we did – I would only want one that would give me nothing but unconditional love – and Beavis has far exceeded those expectations. For lack of a better term – I am his whole world – and I thank God that he is a part of my life each and every day.

Now that we have seven years of history, I look forward to seven years more – and then some. As I said earlier, I am Beavis’ whole world – but he is mine as well. I am so happy that he is my son and I could not ask for a better one. No matter the day I have at work, or the stress that is on my mind – all I have to do is look at him – and it all melts away. I am undecided as to whether or not I want children of my own – but he is the embodiment of everything I want in a son…

…and I hope he lives forever.

Happy Birthday buddy. Daddy loves you.

“He’s lost his interest in M.M.P.R.
He drives his bike as fast as though it were a car.
He draws fine pictures mom collects for her museum.
He’ll make up stories good enough that dad believes ‘em.
He’s grown just enough tall, for real basketball,
complete with rules and all at seven.
Keeps up with dad on trails, determined not to fail,
when mountain snow prevails at seven.
He feels the fears of whether his peers approve,
of all the things that make up what is or isn’t cool.
He learns to use his whit and new learned philosophy,
to confuse his stifled parents that lack a psychology degree.
He challenges the rules, with new and improved tools,
finding each hidden groove at seven.
The things that worked before, now form a metaphor,
to even up the score at seven.
He heads from the bus by himself to his home,
feeling bits of freedom of what it’s like to be grown.
But now has to deal with the dirt that is thrown,
by the kids who throw dirt when they’re left alone.
He’s now finished first grade, and he has learned the trade,
of how the game is played at seven.
Expels those who collide, selecting for the ride,
those who still fit beside at seven.”
Bruce Jacques – At Seven