by Jessica Rowe
# CRAPHOUSEWIFE
Cats were missing from my life for a while after I left home for university and then spent some time overseas. Once I was ready to settle back down and had moved in with my plastic-surgeon boyfriend, I decided it was time to get another cat. Audrey caught my eye at the RSPCA shelter in western Sydney. She was another tortoiseshell cat with impossibly long white whiskers but her fur was fluffy and long and she had a magnificent tail that looked like a feather duster. This beautiful cat was my constant companion for the next ten years. She survived an 8-metre fall from my laundry window when the pair of us lived in a high-rise in Sydney’s Bellevue Hill.
Soon after, Audrey moved with me when I proudly signed the mortgage papers on my first apartment in Sydney near Clovelly Beach. She wasn’t initially keen on Peter and used to launch herself and her claws into his long feet and twitching toes that would stick out of the bottom of the doona on my double bed. This cat wasn’t used to sharing the bed with anyone but me and she wasn’t happy being cooped up in this tiny unit with no grass or dirt under her paws. However, once she and I moved out of that unit and Peter and I moved into a small house together ahead of our wedding, Audrey started to settle down. Perhaps because she could sense my happiness it meant that she could also relax a little. And it meant she gave up her middle-of-the-night stealth attacks on my soon-to-be-husband.
# CRAPHOUSEWIFE
Thankfully, Peter has always been a cat person, having also grown up with them, so he took to Audrey despite their prickly early introductions. He was also keen to get another cat now that we were starting our life together. Not that I needed much more evidence that Peter was the man for me, but when I heard him being ‘interviewed’ on the phone by a cat breeder, I realised how special he was.
‘Hello, Tom, I’d love to have one of your British blue kittens,’ said Peter.
He had become enamoured of this breed of cats after seeing one of them at a mutual friend’s house.
I couldn’t hear what the breeder was saying at the other end of the phone. All I could hear was my husband’s loud, booming, cat-proud voice.
‘Yes, I’ve always been a cat person. I have a very good relationship with Jessica’s cat, Audrey. And I’ve always had cats in my life … If you agree to us having one of your kittens, I would like to call him Alfie, as that was the name of my very first cat!’
Once Peter had hung up the phone, his great big smile revealed he had passed ‘the test’ and we had been successful in getting another cat for our fledgling family. Alfie is now fifteen years old and although his steel-grey, fuzzy-felt fur is looking less sleek, he still brings us so much joy all these years later. He now uses his claws to drag himself up onto the couch or our bed since his legs aren’t as springy, a contrast to when we first brought him home as a cheeky spritely kitten who would leap around Audrey—the elegant older lady of the house.
# CRAPHOUSEWIFE
Way before the sun woke up, Auds used to get up with me when my alarm went off at 3.20 a.m. for the Today show. She would wait outside the shower recess while I tried to wash the exhaustion and sleep from my body. Later, when I was going through IVF, and then pregnant with Allegra, she would curl herself up against my cramping and growing belly, keeping me company through those tentative days of hoping my baby would hold on and keep growing healthily inside of me. That loyal cat also stayed by my side while I raged against the dead of night during my postnatal depression. Again, she curled up against my stomach while I was pregnant with Giselle, purring and raising her soft, white chin for a gentle pat.
Although Audrey kept a wary distance from the girls who were always trying to grab her fat, fluffy tail or elegant whiskers with their sticky fingers, she would still follow me, wrapping and weaving herself between my legs. My daughters had inherited their parents’ love of cats and were always trying to drag either Audrey or Alfie onto their beds each night. Life was good; we were happy to be a two-cat family for a couple of years. However, I was heartsick when we had to say goodbye to Audrey. She was full of disease and the vet recommended that it was best for her to go ‘to sleep’. Cradling her like a child while I watched her peacefully slip away, I thanked this white-pawed pussycat for keeping me company through some of the loneliest and darkest times of my life. In my top drawer I still have her box of ashes and worn, fraying pink collar. Perhaps it might be time to scatter them under our giant ghost gum in the corner of our backyard.
# CRAPHOUSEWIFE
It took a while to fill the hole that Audrey had left in our lives. I wasn’t ready to fill that empty space on the bed or outside of the shower. Eventually, it meant the girls found their own cat, a brown Persian, which was being kept at the local vet because its owner was too frail to look after her anymore. We walked past the vet’s window and this old brown cat stared longingly out of her cage at the three of us.
‘Mumma, please, can we have her?’ asked Allegra.
‘Pwease …’ repeated Giselle.
‘She has such sad eyes, Mumma. Please, please can we take her home?’
Of course, I quickly relented and we sent Peter a picture of the newest addition to our family.
Coincidentally, the girls wanted to name their cat Vanessa, unaware that I’d had my own Vanessa at a similar age. For a time, this quiet, shy cat with an endearing flat face split her time between hiding under their beds or being dressed up and pushed around in my daughters’ dollies’ pram. I would laughingly point out to them that that was exactly what I’d done to my cat. Unfortunately, Vanessa was only with us for a short time as her ongoing health problems meant she joined Pinkie, Vanessa (the first one), Mog and Audrey on the giant, velvet couch they could forever scratch, in the sky.
# CRAPHOUSEWIFE
Since both of the girls were heartbroken after Vanessa’s death, I gave them the task of finding a new cat for our family when they were ready. Allegra had become especially taken with ragdoll cats, not only because of their bright-blue eyes but because of their gentle, laid-back personalities. We found the perfect kitten at a home that was a few hours’ drive away from Sydney.
Mum and my youngest sister Claudia decided to join the girls and me for our cat road trip. The four of them spent the return journey arguing over who could have our new kitten, still in her cage, on their lap. Allegra decided to name her cat Daisy and the name matches her sweet, easy personality. Daisy now spends her days either in dress-ups, in prams, wearing hats or sleeping curled up under an old rocking horse that I can’t bear to throw out.
# CRAPHOUSEWIFE
The newest addition to our cat family is Violet; she’s a British blue like Alfie and although I’m biased I think she’s the prettiest cat in the entire world with her mauve- and-white fur and the longest white whiskers. We had been a two-cat family for a long time but I had managed to convince my husband of the ‘benefits’ of a third cat. My argument was that Giselle has been especially close to Alfie, and she couldn’t comprehend the idea that he would die one day. I thought that if we got her a cat of her own, it might make it easier to deal with Alfie’s ageing. Thankfully, at fifteen years of age, Alfie is for now still going strong and we also have this cheeky little cat that tears around the house. She keeps the whole family on its toes with her hyperactive antics and meerkat manoeuvres.
So, now we have three and I would still love to get another cat. Allegra is particularly keen to have ‘her own’ cat for her next birthday. Recently, when we were at the pet shop, she was in floods of tears to leave the kittens behind. However, I fear that three cats might be our limit because even though I have married a cat man I know that if I tried to sneak another cat into our house I might be stretching his patience, which is already often stretched tautly by the three crazy cat ladies in his life!
HAMBURGERS
Who doesn’t like a burger? This easy meal has become a weekly addition to our menu, as it’s simple to cater to individual (fussy) tastes with the addition/removal of cheese, tomato, avocado and lettuce.
&n
bsp; Ingredients
4 hamburger patties (supermarket bought)
sliced cheese (depending on whether someone wants cheese)
4 hamburger buns (we use the sweeter ‘Sonoma bakery hamburger buns’ but there are so many varieties to choose from at the supermarket)
3 truss tomatoes
1 avocado
1 small cos lettuce (chopped)
tomato sauce
Method
Preheat oven to 180 degrees Celsius. Lightly brown each side of the hamburger patties in a frypan. A revelation for me has been putting these browned patties into the oven to finish off the cooking process! Previously my meat patties would be raw in the middle and burnt on the outside, until I learnt this sensational tip from some other crap housewives on Instagram. Usually the patties will take about 15–20 minutes to cook.
Once they’re cooked, I put cheese on top of the patties for those who want cheese, and keep them in the oven for another couple of minutes to melt.
Finally, assemble your burger with whatever fillings take your fancy.
Success rate
Four out of four family members love this meal. It’s a winner!
Epilogue
With freedom, books, flowers, and the moon, who could not be happy?
OSCAR WILDE
As I jump into the cool, clean water, the rush of bubbles tickles my nose as my feet push up off the bottom of the pool. I start laughing just as my daughters and I break the surface of the water at the same time.
‘Mummy, you were meant to hold our hands the whole time,’ said Allegra.
‘Sweetness, I didn’t mean to let go,’ I replied.
‘Come on, let’s do it again, but this time, Mumma, you can’t let go,’ said Giselle.
‘Alright, I promise,’ I said, as the three of us clambered out of the water and walked back to the deep end.
It has been a year since my sea change and we’ve returned as a family to that same turquoise-tiled pool in Thailand where I made that choice to change the direction of my life. And as I let the hot, humid heat dry my skin, I have no regrets about stepping back from my career and stepping up for my family.
It has taken a while for my mind to adjust to the slower, calmer pace of life. Initially it was strange to have a diary no longer crammed with commitments. But I have learnt to appreciate those longer gaps between places I needed to go and people who I needed to see. Gradually I realised the freedom that came from choosing to spend time with people that mattered most to me, rather than letting them down because of the demands of a busy, crazed life. And also the relief of letting go of the people who weren’t good for my spirit and self-worth.
This year I have spent more time with my girls, my husband, my family and friends. And the best part of that, according to my youngest daughter Giselle, is that I’m around to take her to school each day. Allegra says she loves being able to spend more time with me and that ‘I’m so less stressed’. And Peter says, despite the chaos I’ve brought to his morning routine, my change has been a game changer for our family.
What hasn’t changed is the daily mess that makes up our lives. I’m not a better cook, housekeeper or organiser. But in my heart, I know I’m a happier person because my life is calmer and less fraught. I’m still seeking out adventures but I’m going for opportunities that work best for me and my family and where we’re at in our lives.
My leap into the deep blue has been worth it. And I know there will be plenty more of these leaps of faith for me. Bring on the next chapter for this crap housewife …
Acknowledgements
Thank you to my publisher Annette Barlow and her fine team at Allen & Unwin. Annette has been coaxing me to get the words onto the page for over twenty years and I wouldn’t trust my stories or heart with anyone else. Fiona Inglis, my literary agent who has looked after my mother and me since we wrote our first book together and she has kept our words in print! My dream team of David Wilson and Andrew Gaul from Watercooler Talent. I love these wonderful men, who are family to me and have kept believing in me and my quirky, wondrous ways when no one else would.
Thank you to Justine Schofield, Adam Liaw, 4 Ingredients, Ash Pollard and Paula Joye for letting me reproduce their recipes and for revolutionising my weekly meals.
To Woffy, my darling friend, who first encouraged me to write this diary. Thank you Pip, my zone one pal, who told me that Agatha Christie wrote her books in a tent on an archaeological dig in Mesopotamia, so I could write my book anywhere and I needed to get cracking on it! My Mesopotamia became the local library, a haven for writers and students everywhere. Thank you to the librarians, even if I was a little noisy at times for the other occupants.
Finally, endless love and thanks to my Petee. I couldn’t do any of this, or life, without YOU.
