The Smell of Cat Shampoo and the Creak of the Garage Door
The scent of Wanda’s chamomile shampoo mixture mingling with the faint smell of dry cat food was always the signature aroma that greeted the morning in her home. To the forty-seven-year-old woman, it was more than the smell of work—it was the scent of freedom. The two-story house with its faded green fence on a corner of City X had silently witnessed her clawing her way up from rock bottom after the divorce storm brought her down eight years ago.
At 5:30 a.m., the old metal garage door let out a loud creak. Wanda moved several plastic cages into the porch area she had converted into a pet-grooming area. Her small pet store, “Paw-sitive Care,” was far from fancy. It measured only four by five meters, using the garage and part of the side porch, but that little place had supported her and put both her daughters through college.
“Mom, where did you put Noni’s cream-colored sneakers?”
Hurried footsteps sounded from the wooden staircase inside the house. Noni, her twenty-year-old eldest daughter, appeared in neat clothes. A casual black blazer framed her white shirt. Though still very young, Noni already carried great ambitions: studying Business Management while completing a prestigious internship at one of the city center’s leading state-owned companies.
Wanda set down the cat brush she was cleaning and gave a faint smile. “They’re on the bottom shelf by the drying rack, Sis. I washed them yesterday because you spilled orange juice on them, remember?”
Noni lightly smacked her forehead. “Oh, right! Sorry, Mom. I’m freaking out because I have an evaluation meeting with my internship supervisor at eight. They said today they’ll decide everyone’s positions for next semester’s project.”
“It’s okay. Don’t forget to eat breakfast first. I already made butter-fried rice and put it on the dining table,” Wanda said gently, rubbing her eldest daughter’s shoulder. She felt immensely proud every time she saw Noni dressed formally. Noni was a reflection of her own resilience—a child forced to grow up too soon by circumstance.
Before Noni had even made it to the kitchen, the upstairs bedroom door opened again. Nana, the eighteen-year-old youngest, came downstairs in a style completely opposite to her sister’s. She wore an oversized lavender T-shirt, loose jeans, and carried a knitted tote bag covered in cartoon-character keychains. Nana had just started her second semester at the School of Fine Arts.
“Morning, Mom! Morning, Sis Noni, queen of panic!” Nana greeted her cheerfully, mussing her sister’s hair just as she finished putting on her shoes.
“Nana! Don’t start. My hair was finally neat!” Noni protested, though a smile curled across her lips.
“If you two aren’t making a racket in the morning, something feels wrong,” Wanda said, shaking her head. She followed her daughters to the dining table.
At that simple dining table, a little warmth was always created. Wanda watched her two beloved daughters eat breakfast. In her eyes, time seemed to pass far too quickly. It felt like only yesterday that she had sobbed in the bathroom while hugging her two young children, wondering how she would buy milk and pay the rent after Krisna—her ex-husband—chose to walk away from his responsibilities in order to reclaim the “freedom of life” he claimed marriage had taken from him.
Eight years ago, Krisna had simply left. He left behind dwindling savings and sweet promises that never came true. Wanda remembered all too clearly how she had been forced to swallow her pride and sell the few pieces of jewelry she had left to buy used grooming equipment and her first supply of pet food.
“Mom, are you going to have a lot of customers today?” Nana asked, breaking into Wanda’s reverie.
“Quite a few, Na. At nine, the neighborhood association president is bringing his Poodle in for a bath. Then at one this afternoon, Mrs. Titik is bringing her Persian in for a trim. Why?”
“I’ll come straight home after class at two. I can help bathe the cats or take the trash out front,” Nana offered sweetly. Nana was more patient when it came to handling animals than Noni, who was quicker with the pet store’s financial records.
“As long as you don’t neglect your schoolwork, honey,” Wanda said approvingly as she stroked Nana’s head. “What time will Sis Noni be home?”
“Probably pretty late, Mom. I have a little overtime to prepare tomorrow’s presentation materials. You don’t have to wait for me to have dinner,” Noni said guiltily.
“That’s okay. But don’t forget to eat lunch. Your health comes first, Sis,” Wanda reminded her firmly.
After her daughters said goodbye and left—Noni by city bus and Nana on her old automatic motorcycle—the house suddenly fell silent. Wanda drew a deep breath, savoring the peace for a moment before her parade of animal customers began arriving.
At forty-seven, Wanda felt that her life was peaceful enough. She no longer expected miracles of love or excessive luxury. Her focus in life was simple: making sure Noni and Nana finished college and keeping this little pet store running smoothly to cover their daily needs.
But Wanda had no idea that the peace she had worked so hard to build over the past eight years would soon be tested by the swirling winds of the past and unexpected surprises from the future—things she never could have imagined.
A car horn outside the gate broke into her reverie. The neighborhood association president had arrived with his Poodle, which was barking loudly. Wanda straightened her work apron, put on a warm smile, and stepped outside. Her busy morning had officially begun.