The Cheese Spread

I'm going to divert this weeks blog from Isaac Evans to a 4 legged friend. Pets play an integral part of our lives. In my mother's family, we are known as the "animal Polachek's".

My mother's eldest sister Linda was born with a physical disability. She has never let it stop her; however, she has limitations. Growing up she began learning about animals, caring for them, etc. Unfortunately, I'm not able to find the exact article but her budding animal career is mentioned in the papers. One recalls the "strange incidents at the Frank Polachek household" namely when Stash the armadillo smashed all the bleach bottles in the middle of the winter. Or the time tree frogs jumped all over my grandmother. I could go on and on with family stories that involve animals. Birds, herps, exotics, they had them all.


Growing up, we had two cats as my father did not like dogs. We had a rotweiler for awhile but that didn't work out. Tiger was adopted from the APL. Mr. J was found wandering the tracks in Cleveland while my father was on patrol and as he put it , " it was a one way ride to the APL ". Mr. J was an orange tabby. Tiger was a tiger/white cat. Tiger got into moth balls and died when we were young. Mr. J was ride or die.

Mr. J was "drugged" by the vet and moved to AZ with us (in the car!!!). I remember his fat ass burrowing under hotel beds and us trying to coax him out. He loved sleeping in the pilot light of the furnace.

In 1995, Mr. J started missing the litter box and having problems. We took him to the vet. Kidney failure. We made the decision to put him down and we cried for days.

For my 13th birthday I really wanted an orange tabby like Mr. J. My Aunt Kathy had recently found an abandoned litter, no mother in sight, near deaconess hospital in Cleveland. One cat was a skinny runt they named little boy. Little boy was neutered and declared healthy. I didn't know it yet but he was bound for Phoenix.

Fighting the USDA weather restrictions on live shipments of animals, he was flown from Cleveland to Atlanta and finally to Phoenix around my birthday. He was so calm that he didn't require anesthesia or drugs of any sort.

I had no idea he was being flown in. We got a call and mom said we had to go to Terminal 2 Cargo Hold. There we found a scared orange tabby in a big red box. It was Crackers.

From there, he was mine. We lived in Arizona and travelled to California, Oregon, and Washington. He rode shot gun in my car.

I'd like to keep my other memories private, something I can hold on to.

Thank you for being my friend Crackers but most importantly - thank you for being my family.