Wednesday, March 25, 2015

A bit of history: 2

Weekend visits soon began at dad's apartment in Providence. My mother, brother and I remained in the two-story house that was bought in Barrington when I was 2 years old.


I remember feeling angry, confused and very alone. Next to an imaginary friend I called "Jocka" and Raggedy Ann, my only real friend and comfort was my cat, Tigger.


He loved me and was always happy to see me. When brother and I were put to bed at night Tigger was put in the basement. But somehow, he would always manage to mysteriously make his way back upstairs into my bedroom.

No one could figure it out.

Mom hid in the basement one night to see if she could witness the escape. It worked. Tigger would climb up the stairs to the top step, stand on his hind legs, jump- to wrap his paws around the doorknob and s-W-i-N-g... back and forth... until the door opened!

He would then run upstairs to my bed, slip under the covers and lay at my feet to play with my wiggling toes. I'd especially love it when he'd lay at my head. I would hug him close and fall sweetly asleep while listening to his comforting p-u-u-r-r-r...



testimony by: Hallie Agar

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