Hello and welcome to Todd Canton on the Web

It has my name on it and this is my site! My opinions, my view........ I, Todd Canton, was born in the border town of Amherst, Nova Scotia, the fifth of seven natural children of Bert and Vivian Canton. I attended schools in Amherst and worked there too, first at Cecil's Restaurant and Home Bakery, where, incidentally, I met my future wife. I left there to join Kmart Canada and my wife and I eventually moved to Truro where we have resided ever since. I feel fortunate to live on the east coast of Canada in beautiful Nova Scotia. My wife's name is Sherry and we have been married since the summer of 1983.

The two of us do not have any children but do reside with some very spoiled house-cats. Robbie, the Scaredy Cat, who is ten years old and Bette Davis, the most dramatic cat actress in the world, is nine. Recently my wife rescued a cat that had been run over and left for dead. Her name is Paige and she too joined our family. I write children's stories about them called the "Cats of Prince Street" and I believe that I may actually have a little bit of talent. Then there is our "friendly giant" Simon and if that isn't enough, we got a dog Rozie, a purebred shi'tzu who has become the very heart of our existence (but don't tell the cats!) Okay, I'm not done yet. Then came Merlin who was too big for us so he went to live with our friends Debbie & Mike, and last December my wife brought home Chloe, a tortise shell kitten.

The Cats of Prince Street, like all things, had a beginning, it was with a giant of sorts....

PRETTY BOY KITTY BOY

When our fourteen year old house-cat Rory passed away in March of 2002 I must tell you, I was heartbroken. I also must tell you that he was never my favourite. He was this large (and determined) long haired Maine Coon cat that left mounds of fur on the carpet, howled while I tried to sleep, and continually scratched the furniture. He even bit the album cover of one of my Anne Murray records! Somehow we agreed to co-exist in our home together........not because I am some wonderful animal rights advocate, fantastic human being, or all around great man.......rather, my wife, Sherry who thought of Rory as the love of her life.

The two had a bond that could not be broken and I was witness to the love that flowed back and forth between them. He was gentle and playful and such a nice cat. We called him the Gentle Giant because he was so massive and yet so gentle at the same time. Rory welcomed every new pet that came into our home and before long they were all able to see him for what he was, their friend. He would drop on his side and extend a welcoming paw to show the quite often nervous and hissing newcomer that there was nothing to fear.

To make a long story short, they miss him. India knew him the longest, her whole life, 12 yrs. Then Robbie, Bette Davis and Paige. Each had an enormous amount of respect for Rory and each grieved in their own way. Well, that depends on who you talk to. Do animals grieve? Or do they accept the fact that one day he went out the door and never came back? Who knows? I believe as a Christian that when an animal dies it's soul goes off to heaven to be with God who sent them here in the first place. (Why wouldn't HE surround himself with those that are completely innocent?) I also believe that they are never ours, they belong to the earth. We just have the privilege to care for them while they're here.

I believe that animals are put on this earth to teach man about tenderness of the heart and to prove loyalty and devotion of a different kind. You see, the human race has disappointed me on several occasions and the animal kingdom has not. But what does all this have to do with Rory? Rory, the large orange cat with the large plume for a tail.

My wife is not religious and I am quite sure that she is not superstitious. She's just a sensible and realistic woman who is serious about everything in her life. Rory died and she didn't like it. Sherry had fought so hard for that cat and did not enjoy losing. I watched her suffer and I felt her pain. There was little I could do to comfort her. However, six months to the day after Rory died I was walking home from the bar when I came upon a six month old orange kitten who looked amazingly like the gentle giant. I made the mistake of patting him and he followed me home. Well, when you are drinking you don't always think clearly so for me to bring him home was one thing but when I woke up the next morning and realized what I had done then reality set in.

I snuck him into the house and into the bedroom. Sherry had been restless and she was more comfortable on the couch downstairs. So in the early morning when she arose she opened the bedroom door to let India out and you can imagine her shock when she saw the orange boy sitting on the landing at the top of the stairs. The same spot where Rory used to sit. Sherry probably should have screamed and she might very well have fainted if she was married to someone other than who she is. You see, this is nothing out of the ordinary for me. I brought them all home. So she burst into the bedroom and demanded an explanation as to what I thought I was doing......well, what could I say?

And so onward we went with the little boy who looked like Rory, scratched the furniture like Rory and when introduced to Bette dropped on his side and extended his paw just the way Rory did. So, is he a reincarnation? Not likely! Or is he a gift from God telling Sherry that he loves her and that Rory is okay and for now to open her genuine heart to another kind and gentle orange boy with a plume for a tail who needs someone to take care of him.........who knows? All I know is if he bites or scratches one of my Anne Murray LP's like Rory did he's gonna get it!

RORY STORY (1988-2002) Rory Canton, The Gentle Giant

If one does not take the time to reflect then you never know the true meaning of anything that has ever gone on in your life. True?

It's been a year since our Gentle Giant passed away and for as long as a year is, that boy has rarely left my thoughts. Oh, I didn't sit around and cry all the time or anything like that. It's just that, like when I lost my mother, I wasn't quite ready to say goodbye.

I just don't like goodbyes. I lost my father at an early age and since it was so unexpected (to me) I have had a hard time dealing with the loss that comes along after that person is gone. Then there is also the harsh reality that all of us, no matter who we think we are, will someday pass over to the other side. Well, if I do, pass over I mean, what is over there waiting for me? Will I ever see my mother again? My father? Nan? And what about Rory? Can anyone out there guarantee that the after life offers us the explanations that man has pondered for centuries? Gee, I hope so.

When I go, I hope to have lived a full life, I hope to have had good health, I hope that all my parts are working. My father died of cancer just after his 52nd birthday and my mother from ALS at 71 years of age. Nana was never sick a day in her life and she died at 84 from heart complications. Rory was 14 years old -losing a battle to cancerous tumours and diabetes. People say it was a long life for a cat.........but, I'm afraid it just wasn't long enough. I know why people were put on this earth. I believe it was to see if survival of that species could be accomplished. It's too bad that man is quickly destroying the only home he has ever known. Animals, I believe, were put on this earth to make man think he was superior. Some were brought here to keep man company and some were sent here to humble man and believe me, it can happen.

Had the roles been reversed and Rory was the owner and I was the pet,imagine the outcome. With his natural instincts, once I fell ill I would be abandoned or destroyed. I think he was a very caring cat and would have done his best but would eventually would have had to come to a conclusion where I was concerned. I, however, as the owner, found myself compassionate and tolerant where he was concerned and as a result, fought long and hard for him. All of this was done only to lose him in the end. Oh but what a journey. That cat had done an awful lot in his life. He was born in the city of Halifax and he and his siblings were placed in a pet store for sale. Rory was purchased for a little girl named Sara who bonded with the cat right away. He lived with Sara and her mother for a couple of years and then before coming to Truro, lived near the waterfront with Uncle Jack. During that time he lived indoors as well as out and I am sure experienced a lot in doing so. This is where I think he aquired his immense love of seafood. I am also quite sure he fathered a few litters in the neighbourhood. The recipients of such animals have been (I am sure) affected by the gentleness gene that raced through Rory's entire body. As he grew large and strong he simply became known as the Gentle Giant.

Once the large orange cat with a plume for a tail came to live with Sherry and me it was here he found his true home. We had our share of clashes at first but once we met in the middle, life became more satisfying for all parties involved. This was mostly due to an unexpected surprise to Rory, a mother. Sherry Canton, in her trademark of quiet diversity, opened her heart and soul to that boy. She embraced him as though he were a child and in fact, I guess he was, her child, her boy, her friend. When he was hungry, she fed him, when he was dirty she cleaned him, when he was sick, she doctored him, and when he was gone she longed for him. Longed for and loved in such a deeply fashion that I dare say, I would not have been surprised if she had passed away from a genuinely broken heart. Had it not been for other family responsibilities, she might very well have. That's kind of how I felt when my mother died, my father, Nan and all of the rest who were gone long before I ever tired of them. Long before I was ready to say goodbye.

So will heaven be a big field with flowers under a sunny sky and will I be reunited with my mother, father, Nana? Who knows? I guess just to see the face of God would be enough and to experience the glory of the angels as well. To experience first hand, the reality of heaven and all it's power would really be sufficient, true? Or would it not really be heaven at all if I didn't at least feel the embrace that comes in the form of an orange plume wrapped around my leg, telling me, "Daddy, I've missed you.....