1. Mary Archer
English 100 (33010) #1
1/22/2013
Moon Friends
Essay # 1
Oftentimes, pets can be conceived as silly and nonessential beings. What we, as humans,
mistake for unknowing creatures are often the wisest and capable of instructors. Once, I thought
my dog and cat were the most infuriating animals ever. They were my large family’s pride and
joy. They had the insulting of habit leaving the house when the screen door was ajar, and forcing
me to chase and return them when I didn’t want to. It amuses me how one of the great lessons of
my life came through them.
I couldn’t tell you what it was I disliked about them. All I know is, whenever they were
nearby, my response was to create irritable and indignant ways to show them just how much they
weren’t needed around.
Petey was an dash hound and beagle mix, larger than an puny dash hound but smaller
than an hearty beagle. He had black fur with caramel brown feet, and a white patch on his chest.
His ears were floppy and they flipped back sometimes. Petey sang when the harmonica played,
he ate carrots, and barked at everybody who passed our sidewalk-facing window. His voice was
shrill and, most often, annoying.
Milo was a black panther of a cat. He had sharp black fur (which he always kept
groomed) and sharp green eyes. His body was lithe and his ears pointy. Whenever he got pissed,
his long tail struck at the floor like a rattlesnake’s. You knew not to touch him then. Milo liked
the night. You could find him in the mornings.

2. My brothers and sisters liked Petey and Milo more than they seemed to like me. My
mother loved Petey profoundly. My eldest sister Donna, who never let me use her nail polish or
hand lotion, had an enormous affection for Milo. He was her little rascal, little devil, little prince.
I especially didn’t like Milo.
So it happened that there was quite an uneasiness between me and my pets. I usually
scolded them, so it felt awkward to pet them in an comfortable way. I may have resisted the
natural relationship between master and pet unsuccessfully at times, however. When it was just
me and either Petey or Milo in a room alone together, I walked up to them and stared at them,
and stood a moment, perplexed, wondering, will you let me pet you? When they didn’t show
their claws and teeth, I proceeded.
One day, however, Petey and Milo became my best friends. Being around the age where
it was babyish to cry, I went outside to shed my tears in peace. Though it was night, I didn’t
mind being outside in only my nightshirt, as it was summer in New York, there was an welcome
breeze, and I lived in an safe, quiet neighborhood away from the street.
The moon above was especially full, large and ethereal, with a blue halo around its rim. I
didn’t enjoy it as much as I should have, however, with all the tears in my eyes and resentful
thoughts of what maggots my brothers and sisters were. I sighed in the agony and world
weariness of twelve years old, resigned to the fate of residing with beings so far below my
obvious maturity and greatness.
Of course, this story wouldn’t be as meaningful as it should be, if I neglect to tell you the
real state of my emotion. Being teased and scolded myself, as the youngest member of the
household, number six of three sons and three daughters, I had begun to feel lonely and doubtful
if anyone wanted me around, either.

3. My brothers and sisters were getting older and suddenly we were growing apart. My
mother and father were dealing with a difficult phase of their marriage; there were bills to pay,
kids to feed, and life was not fun.
With this mix of circumstances, and with an instance of being teased by my brothers and
sisters (which I can’t remember what about), I started to cry. Though I was but twelve at the
time, I had my first glimpse of what forlorn sadness felt like. So when Petey and Milo sought to
accompany me this one night, I was greatly moved.
I hurried down the stairs and out the door, not checking to see if the screen door closed
behind me. When a girl has the sniffles, haste is of paramount importance. I sat down on a
concrete step, a little distance removed from the screen door. I began my sob session, though
quiet enough not to be heard through the second story room above me, where my sisters were.
My only expectation was to finish crying with a few heaves and hos of deep breathing, some snot
and very wet cheeks.
About thirty seconds from walking out, however, I heard the screen door behind me
again. In wild hope that a brother or sister somehow understood that I craved intimacy and was
about to show me their compassionate understanding, my heart rate sped up and I waited, stock
still.
It was curious, then, to feel Milo rub against my side. His small black fur-covered body
padded smoothly past me until he stood a few feet before my line of sight, and sat down. First, I
felt simply astonished that Milo had greeted me in such a… familiar way. Next, I was puzzled
about what he was doing. He sat there, unmoving, seeming to just wait, for what seemed like a
long time. Strangely, his presence comforted me. I relaxed.

4. He looked back at me once, and so strange and deliberate seemed his movements, that I
was instantly at attention. He said nothing. He was just a cat. However, I almost felt as if he
understood me. His actions said, you don’t treat me well and you’ll do well to treat me better
after this, missy, but I see that you’re lonely and need someone, so I’ll do for now. I began to be
filled with an amazed feeling of awe and gratitude at this show of generosity, but the night was
not yet done.
I heard the screen door behind me again, and this time it was the slightly chubby hot-dog
shaped body of my dog Petey. His nails were never cut, so I heard the clap clap of each paw on
the pavement. He, too, continued past me and sat before me.
I believe my mouth went agape, and tears that were suspended in shock welled up, in my
eyes. I looked at the moon through hazy eyes. I was happy.
Eventually, after sitting in each of our places for a few minutes, in an agreeable silence
and no more tears, Petey and Milo followed me inside without trouble, not looking to be chased
or caught this time.
My brothers and sisters, and, from time to time, my parents, were not having fun with
their lives, and did not have much patience for a twelve year old. I, in turn, feeling generally
disliked, did not have much patience for Petey and Milo. Yet, this dog and cat of mine, had
patience for me. Somehow their love had a great impression on me. Whenever I remember that
night, I feel amazed and thankful, because they showed me another road, apart from perennial
resentment and judgment of others. They showed me how to understand.
After that night, I slowly started moving towards philosophical books about taking
responsibility for your own happiness. It is a long, but joyful, road to learning how to be happy.

5. What I learned from this experience is that we’re all not quite as alone as we think. Even
as my parents, brothers and sisters were too busy to show me love or respect, there was still a
part of my family, my dog and cat, who knew how to instruct in me the art of forgiveness and the
art of being kind. For this reason, the night when my dog and cat sat by me, is one of the most
precious and significant moments of my life.