Different Kind Of Hero

Came back from a day of school, another bad day. Walked inside my house, mom-cooking dinner, she doesn’t even look up as I walk by. Go to my room, throw down my backpack, and sit on my bed. My cat Brownie jumps on my lap and purrs. I tell her about my day. I see her football shaped eyes look up at me. I know she is listening. She listens well. I feel her purring, healing my mental scars. After talking to my cat I feel better, I can handle another day. “Gloria, come to dinner,” my mother screams from our kitchen. I walk down. Brownie follows me down the stairs. We eat in complete silence. More silence.
Mom asks, “How was your day?”
I simply answer, “Fine.” Only Brownie knows and only Brownie will ever know. I finish dinner and walk silently back to my room. I hear my mom get on the phone. Probably talking to one of her friends. Something I don’t have (except for Brownie) I think as I enter my room I get in bed Brownie by my side. I sleep soundly with Brownie there. I wake up, Brownie still there breathing deeply as she sleeps. I feel secure with her there ready to start the day. I brush my teeth and put on my clothes. Brownie comes right in time to say goodbye. I get on the bus feeling great.

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Get back from school. Another bad day, someone tripped me in the hall; someone pushed my lunch tray down, the usual but horrible truth. I open the door expecting my Brownie to be there to greet me. She isn’t there. No problem. I walk silently up to my room. The silence is like the silence on a golf course with the play-by-play announcer telling what the golfer is doing like, “He is going up for the put….”. My play-by-play announcer is saying, “She is going up to her room…”. Today when I get home there is no stove on, mom isn’t on the phone, and no soft jazz music plays from the living room. I feel like I am walking up to my room to get my execution. I get to my room, throw down my backpack, and call out Brownie’s name, “Brownie…” I yelled. No answer, no “Meow”. “Brownie!!!!!” I shouted. No answer. I get frightened. Where is my Brownie? I run to our backyard, Mom is sitting near a tree weeping holding something in her arms. I walk slowly, like it could be an ex-con pretending to be my mom. I get closer. And closer. I look over her shoulder to find a brown looking cat in her arms. I look longer. I figure out its Brownie. It takes at least 5 minutes for this to sink in. Then without thinking I lash out. “How could you?? What did you do to her? Why? What? What happe…” I sputtered out. Then I realize that mom didn’t do anything. She was also crying!! Then in a gentler voice I whispered, “What happened?” My mom turned slowly toward me and said through a waterfall of tears,” When you left (sniff) Brownie was jumping around outside and in the street (sniff, sniff) I called for her to come back but she wouldn’t and then a car came and…”
“No!! This couldn’t have happened to my cat No! No!” I screeched, cutting her off.
“Yes, baby it did we can’t bring her back to life,” mom whimpered.
“We have to,” I yelled, “she can’t be gone, she just can’t be gone!” I screamed through my tears. I ran to my room before my mom could say another word.
“Gloria, Gloria!!” my mom yelled out to me. I didn’t look back. When I got to my room I shut the door and cried and cried. I must have cried nonstop for hours before my mom opened my door silently and sat beside me on my bed. She lifted me up and held me for 20 minutes straight while I whimpered. Then she finally uttered the words, “It will be alright!” Then I looked up at her at last with sad puppy dog eyes and replied, “How will it be alright? She is gone. What will I do without her… who will I… talk too?”
“Well, that’s an easy answer. God and I are always available, 24/7!!” mom said lovingly. She picked up the picture I had on my dresser of Brownie and me sitting on the carpet.
“You remember when I took this picture?” Mom sighed.
I looked at it and smiled. It was a week before my dad had passed away. I remember it like it was yesterday. I was seven years old. I’m now 13. My dad had given me Brownie as a present. “Yeah”, I sighed.
“Now honey, everything WILL be alright. Remember what I told you when your dad passed away.” She didn’t even wait for me to answer. She just told me in her honey-suckle voice, “He will always be with you in here,” She pointed to her heart, “And so will Brownie.” I just looked up at her and said, “She saved me from doing some pretty crazy stuff after dad died, and she was like my hero in brown fur!” We both chuckled. We sat for a little while longer and then mom said, “ We just can’t sit here and mope. We have to get ready to set up for the funeral and, we both got up and started down the stairs.


On Saturday we had the funeral. Only people that really cared about Brownie attended the funeral. My mom and I were the only people there. I buried Brownie under her favorite tree in the backyard. I said these words, “For a long time I felt like my only connection to my dad and my only person to talk was you but I know I have God and my mom to talk to. I will never forget you. You saved me from doing crazy things. And to me you will always be a hero, for saving me from myself. I will always have you in my heart. So what I am saying is, THANKS. Then mom and I looked down to the ground below at the tombstone I had made for Brownie that read, “Here Lies My Hero… My Different Kind Of Hero.”