The Inevitable Heartbreak

(in this poem, there are no
fancy tricks)

It may be silly,
I know that much,
but I love my cat.

(it may not follow line length
conformity)

My cat is black with
a white stomach
and white paws. The front
paws are like little tennis shoes.
His hind feet are like white high tops.
Because of this, his name is Nike.

(it may not follow syllable
rules)

His eyes are golden, with specks
of brown and green.
He has a cute pink nose.
There is a white stripe
up his face.

(this might be tedious
And devoid of a point)

He was dropped off
in front of our house.
He was too cute to turn away
so he became part of the family.

(there is no rhyming, and
no conceit)

He is an outdoor cat
at heart.
He loves to hunt and bring
home mice as presents for us.
Woodchucks, rabbits, moles,
and birds were also in his
repertoire.

(long this is
to a reader)

When we moved, Nike
gave up the outdoors
for a quiet life in the house.
He never forget outdoors,
And we still take him out
On walks.

(it does not use assonance,
or alliteration)

He is a rollie
pollie. This creates many
nicknames for him. He
is fat cat, the fat one,
mofassa, and fat stuff.
I call him any little doting name
I can think of.

(it does not have any
onomatopoeia)

His fur is soft to the touch.
He is the friendliest cat ever.
He likes to cuddle, especially when
I am crying.

(but this is a poem: here is
why)

Nike died on August 2nd 2007
The last two days I spent with him
were the worst two days of
my life. And even though he is
just a cat, he was my cat for over
seventeen years.
- Cheryl Abbott Fall 2007

I wrote this poem as part of my poem selection for my Creative Writing class. It was the fall semester after my dear Nike died and I was still mourning. It was hard those last couple months of his life. He would eat significantly less than before. Getting up and down from beds and couches was difficult because his eyesight had deteriorated. But we as a family did all we could to ease his life, and when the time can he passed while I was stroking his fur. Even now, after almost five years have gone by, I cannot help but cry.

So why am I thinking about a time which was so heartbreaking? Because Nike was not our only pet growing up. We also have a dear dog Spike. He is an adorable beagle fox terrier mix who is now seventeen years old. Over this past year he has slowed down, and arthritis freezes up his back legs from time to time. His eyesight is not what it used to be. He spends most of his day sleeping on his cushion in the kitchen, because the space is big and wide with less items to maneuver around. We take him outside whenever we hear the click of his nails on the floor because that is the only time he really walks around.

Heartbreak is right around the corner and there is nothing I can do about it. It is not like a relationship I can try to mend or part on mutual terms to soften the blow. It is not like a sore muscle that is soothed by heat and a nice dip in Epsom salt. It is nothing like the gradually loss of friends who were once close. This is not irreversible. The inevitable is going to happen, our dear Spike is going to pass, and there is nothing we can do to prevent it. There is no way to cure his aging body. He will pass away, just as Nike, just as we all do. My only wish is that Spike can have the same comfort Nike did; I hope one of us are by his side so he knows he is loved to the end. That is all I can pray for. That is all I can ask God to grant my family and me. It is one small comfort that could be gleamed from such a dark time that I know will come.

Damn it Cheryl! That Hurts! Let GO!

Freud concocted many different theories about how a person develops psychological. Most of his theories have holes in them and have been thrown out of the spotlight. But every once in a while, Freud made a claim that holds some water. Freud suggested that the emotional tie an infant develops with its mother is the basis of later attachments to people in its life. Early theories revolved around how feeding the infant creates an emotional response to the mother (Beck 1999). However, this idea was shown invalid when Bowlby played with his rhesus monkeys (1969). The gist of his experiments was that a baby monkey would cling to the soft terry cloth surrogate mother rather than the hard wire surrogate mother that provided the bottle. The baby monkeys even learned how to lean over to drink the milk without detaching from the soft mother (Bowlby 1969). This study suggests that infants of monkeys attach to the object that brings them, and evolutionarily speaking, we as people attach our selves to those which bring us the most comfort.

Attachment is defined as “the strong emotional tie that humans feel toward special people in their lives” (Beck 1999). Attachment is developed through all those little things primary caregivers do. These primary caregivers become secure bases, and become a place where the child is always able to turn. In securely attached infants this means they experience slight anxiety when there secure bases leaves, but are happy when the base returns (Ainsworth). As one ages, this reliance does spread to cover many people. These are the people one can always turn to, no matter the time or distance that has separated them. The knowledge that these people exist in one’s life brings comfort.

This brief psychology lesson does have a point. My Mercy Girls are people who have scattered all over the place pursuing various ventures. However, when we all get together (or as many of us as possible), it is like no time has passed and I am able to engage with them as though we were still in our tight knit high school group. This is because as a child I always had a secure base in my parents, especially my mother. When the shit hits the proverbial fan, she is usually the first call I make. I am comforted by knowing she is near and feel less burdened when in her presence. Stress melts away and even though I am still 23 years old, a hug can dampen the progress of my tears.

Outside of my mother and family, I feel some of my friends from college serve as some of the best secure bases a person could have. I call when I have problems and need solid advice; because I trust them and know they have only my best interest in mind. This usually involves me calling at strange hours of the night and so upset and broken down that they need to speak Cheryl fluently to help me out. The prime examples of these secure bases know who they are. I hope they know they can always expect the same quality care they give me from me.

Again, the Mercy Girls are a secure base for me. I love to bounce ideas off of them in our online Facebook thread, and they do the same. Their advice is presented with personal experience and sometimes concrete evidence. These ladies have helped each other (myself included) through some rough times involving boys, troubles at home, and troubles with the world. I trust them with my problems and they trust me.

Finally, although some find it weird, I do have two secure bases in my ex-boyfriends. Some view this as a safety net; on the contrary, it is just a place for me to regroup and keep walking. I do not turn to them because I feel I need to rebound from failure, but rather because they know me very well and are able to offer the encouraging words that I need to keep my head above water. They understand they are my friends and as such they offer me warm friendship and do not do anything to steer me wrong.

And to think, Freud predicted this all because I have a good relationship with my mother. The only time I have had severe problems with attaching to people was when I had friends who liked everyone else than they like me. At times they hated me and were only my fried for some undisclosed malicious reason. I wish this did not happen. It made me feel as though I was a clingy, overbearing friend who really did not fit in anywhere. I carried this inadequate feeling with me to Mercy. Of course, over time I felt so totally included that these feelings vanished into oblivion. When I went to college, I knew I could find people who I could care deeply about who would reciprocate these feelings. At times my friendships with others are put to the test, but I find the ones that truly matter always survive and although I can mourn shattered friendships, I still have a few gems stored safely.

Looking back, I feel as though it was less my attachment style and more the type of men I was trying to attach to was the problem with the failings in my love life. I was always trying to attach to people who were not emotionally available or in other ways non-accessible. In one case I lied about my true feelings so I could remain close to someone. This made me a self conscious clingy mess, but I feel it is more the result of the pretense into which I entered the relationship than due to my attachment style. Also, my mental health can at times be rather unstable, and this can also lead to me forming bad relationships with members of the opposite sex. Overall, I feel that this has no bearing on my attachment style.

On a final note, it should be mentioned I was always a well-adjusted child. This means my parents served as very good secure bases, as did a select few of my extended family and one good childhood friend. It was not until after I left the supportive environment of a private parochial school and entered into the public school did I start to become emotionally unstable (aka not well-adjusted). Adolescent hormone changes and a poor support network outside of my house fueled havoc and ultimately led to maladjustment. This maladjustment hung over me, and although I had and now have secure bases, the damage was done. I feel as though the cat was let out of the bag, and even when it hides and is calm, sometimes it just has to come out. My depression is that cat, and my teen years let it out and even a fantastic support network can only help keep it at bay, not completely obliterate it. I guess the point I am trying to make is my attachment is secure and other circumstances (poor support network at school, genetic predisposition, alcohol, etc) have led to my instability.

And I swear this is the final thing I am going to say. My mother and I are really close and she loves me greatly, but I am pretty sure sometimes she just wants to close the door and scream “Damn it Cheryl! Let GO!”


Works that I read and drew upon
Ainsworth, M. D. S., Blehar, M. C., Waters, E., & Wall, S. (1978). Patterns of attachment. Hillsdale, NJ: Erlbaum.

Berk, L., E. (1999) Infants, Children, and Adolescents. 3ed. Boston: Allyn and Bacon

Bowlby, J. (1969) Attachment and loss: Vol I. Attachment. New York: Basic Books