The Mountain Cat's 'Dog Gone' Birth

My birth and the subsequent aftermath have become folklore in my family. Some of the details of this legend are vague based on my parents' recollections. It all started sometime in July 1971. My parents were on the way to Canada or already in Canada or on their way back from Canada. Allegedly they got into some sort of car accident and were forced to stay overnight in some roadside motel. I can imagine it was the type of seedy motel that propagates romance and other illegal activities for the frequent traveler. Consequently, nine months later on April 7, 1972, Vince was born.

I don't recall how I learned about this story, I believe that I quizzed my parents once in my adulthood about the events that led up to my nativity. Not that I'm a pervert mind you, but somehow we got on this topic one day. Over the years since then, my mother has recanted her original story and amended; 'No Vin, I was actually pregnant with you when we got into that car accident.' If this fact is accurate, it may explain some of my mental deficiencies due to a bump on my head that I suffered when my mom hit her womb against the passenger side dashboard. Those of you who know me well enough know that my personality is slightly 'left of center' to describe it modestly.

Anyway, over the years I have often given my parents mock guilt that I was an unplanned child. My mom always give me the same response: 'Well none of your sisters were planned either, Vin. So don't feel bad.' My two sisters are 11 and 12 years older than me which illustrates how unplanned my birth was!

Now at the time of my genesis, my parents had a French poodle named Jean-Pere. (Pictured below with my sisters in 1971). According to my father 'Jean-Pere was the best catcher he'd ever seen! He can catch any ball or any stick no matter how far or fast you threw it to him.' This fact has nothing to do with my story but it is a fascinating to me nevertheless. Unfortunately for me but certainly more for the dog, I never met Jean-Pere. My parents decided that they did not want Jean-Pere around their new infant. They were probably worried that poodle scent can deform a baby or something. I will have to research that someday to justify my parents' rationale. But the running gag all my life has been that my parents 'had to decide whether to keep me or dog'. Luckily my parents choose me instead of leaving me on some random doorstep or donating me to some refugee family in Chinatown.

Anyway I am saddened that I never got to meet the great Jean-Pere. My parents can't recall what happened to Jean-Pere. They most likely gave him away to a dog shelter where he stayed lonely and unwanted for several months before he was eventually euthanized. Mom and dad you should be ashamed of yourself! The blood is on your hands! Oh and I would have gladly co-existed with Jean-Pere. Come to think of it, I never had any pets growing up. Only goldfish. And goldfish are not affectionate plus they die too quickly to form any loving bond with them. What joy a dog, a cat or even a hamster would have brought to my life instead of the barren childhood that I led. (How's that for guilt?)

Yup, my mom was definitely pregnant with me at the time of the car accident.

-The Mountain Cat (aka Vince)


***Note: The poodle's name is pronounced 'Jon-pear'. It is French for 'John the Father' in case you were wondering. I don't know how he got the name Jean-Pere. According to my dad, they adopted him as a puppy and he already had the name.