An Alternative Valentine's Message

Valentine’s is a big deal in our house, we are a family of lovers not fighters. We give the dog a treat from the cat and I receive cards addressed, “To Miaow-m from the cats”. But for us V-Day isn’t about expensive gifts or even a variety of cards from Moonpig, Tesco and Scribbler (capitalism will be the death of society don’t you know) it’s about taking the time to honour the ones you love.

Some introductions may be helpful. In our family there’s me, then Brad (husband/father), joint third is Nala (girl cat) and Salem (boy cat), Kim (the dog) then Atticus (human baby). The hierarchy works on a last one in first one out system of priority. At least it did until Atticus ruined it. A couple of weeks after taking him home, our dog started to itch. I feared it was stress induced – Kim’s previous family got rid of her when their baby son became allergic. Were my baby’s cries triggering traumatic memories and fears of abandonment for her? Or even worse, did we have a new baby and a flea infestation? We got the diagnosis and an allergy was confirmed. A truly devastating blow because if there had been an issue between the dog and the baby there would only be one thing for it. Adoption. But it would be frowned upon to find Atticus a new home and favour our dog-ter.

We needed to think carefully about our family dynamics, and suddenly no one was safe.

Who Adds Significant Value?

Brad gets the most points here as he brings home the bacon. This has been a recent development as he was previously a vegetarian for 11 years. He remembered his love of burgers one random Sunday and gave up a lucrative career in the oil industry to become a professional actor. Suddenly the pigs were safe and our shelves were lined with Smartprice beans. However, after a couple of years working really hard at a punishing career, it’s now bacon sandwiches for everyone. Except Atticus as he doesn’t have any teeth.

Next up and trying to provide for the family is Salem, gallantly following in his father’s footsteps. However, where Brad provides appropriate snacks such as Ella’s Kitchen sachets, Salem provides one snack for all. His absolute favourite, dead wildlife. In fairness, he does provide variety: birds, mice, a very large rat, slow worms, voles and more. One weekend, we asked a neighbour to look in on the cats whilst we went on a European city break. There’s a cat flap so access wasn’t an issue. Anyway, that weekend Salem dragged home a very large rabbit for him and his sister to devour. When we dropped off a bottle of Bucharest’s finest to say thank you to the neighbour, she told us it had been a bloodbath. She didn’t offer to feed them again.

Regardless, both these men of the house earn their keep.

Who Causes The Least Amount of Stress to Everyone Else?

This is where me, the baby and the girl cat fare quite poorly. Mainly due to noise output. The baby can’t really help it. Screaming loudly is his only mode of communication and in all fairness has proved quite successful. The girl cat is a Tortoiseshell. They are renowned for being loud cats and she is also a dick. For example, there have been many times when I have been feeding the baby, calmly shushing him in a darkened room, feeling the heavy weight of his tiny body giving into sleep when suddenly there is a familiar scratch at the door (heaven forbid any doors in this house are ever fully closed). It creaks open, we lock eyes. She sees me see her. She knows I know she’s there.

“MIAOW. I said, MIAOW. Oh, the baby is crying again. You should probably do something about that. I’m going to leave now. GoodMIAOW.”

She has also been known to attack. As a family of lovers we don’t condone violence. Salem only gets away with murdering because he eats what he kills. I’m not excusing that in a Jeffrey Dahmer kind of way but in a nature versus nurture kind of way. Nala on the other hand will strike for fun. She lures you in like the witches in Macbeth and if the truth be told, I think she has problems. Some would say blame the parents, I’ll say Daddy Issues. She is hanging onto her place here by a well chased and long chewed shoestring. She brings the most amount of stress and the least amount of love, but tenure keeps her steady.

I don’t mean to sound callous. But it was desperate times. I needed to remind the team how I was hanging onto my place in the home.

Where is the Love?

This is where I win back all my, “causes the most amount of stress” points. My love is loud and messy and fierce, but they all benefit from it. Leftover chicken strewn on the kitchen floor, “I am the Music Man” sung loudly and out of tune. Lioness-like pride which forms the closest of bonds. I definitely bring the love. I’ve even got enough love left over for a puppy, but I definitely don’t have the energy, at the moment. Because in reality it takes a lot of energy to show someone that you love them. To convince them day after day, for all the hours that exist, that they are loved. And in modern days, that’s especially difficult when your one true love doesn’t use Instagram.

And since the baby has come home, I fear that my love has been spread too thinly. In a house of 6 it’s easy to miss one out. So this is my Valentine’s message to my one true love. My rescue mission, my confidante. In amongst the chaos there is always you, steadfast. Yes, things between us have changed in recent months but together we will conquer anything that stands in our way.

That allergy diagnosis almost 6 months ago could have broken the very fabric of our family. With all my attentions on the newborn, I didn’t notice that

Brad had changed our washing powder. I noticed that the dishes were done and the beds were washed but I didn’t have space in my brain to think about how. He was doing a thing that humans do, called nesting. That washing powder brought out allergies we didn’t know you had but rather than complain you quietly scratched yourself raw and shamefully, it took me weeks to notice.

So this is for you my darling, this Valentine’s I’m honouring you. My heart bursts for you and I’m so grateful to have had you by my side as I enter this new phase of my life. Traditionally, Valentine’s is a time for chocolate but you once ate 5 boxes of chocolate and we had to get your stomach pumped so I’m leaning towards something less traditional. The baby starts eating solid food at 6 months but the majority will end up on the floor. I will always let you have first dibs before I get the dustpan and brush out. Don’t say I’m not good to you, my beautiful, perfect dog.