Cats and dogs

My parents used to tell everyone how their children fought like cats and dogs. They were right. And it was all my fault.

I grew up in a rural community, where the nearest friend lived 5+ miles away. Until my parents let me drive my bike on the Trans Canada Highway, I was imprisoned. My sister was almost 3 years younger than me.

She had friends who lived next door. We had a cousin, only a year younger than her who lived within walking distance. All I had was her.

As a young boy, I liked to play in the woods. I enjoyed sports, snowball fights, fort building and other boy type stuff.  My sister would play with me from time to time, but would get bored of the boy stuff and would revert to her girly activities, which I had no interest in. I refused compromise...

I would amuse myself by teasing and tormenting her. I constantly tortured her mentally. This always occupied my time and created funtimes for a young boy. I was bored. She was my guinea pig. Plus my parents would leave me in charge.

No one told me that girls grow faster than boys. As we approached puberty, she was about my size and she started defending herself. One day, I did something that crossed the line. I don't remember what it was. But the moment will always be remembered. She was at her breaking point. She picked up a hay fork and started chasing me with it. Although I deserved the reaction, I was scared. As I rounded the corner of the house, I grabbed a garden rake. We were now in a duel: Rake vs Fork. Neither one of us had a chance to take the first swing in our Mexican Standoff. Before we could act, a car drove by and honked the horn. My uncle and his two sons had just witnessed our extreme battle. Both of us, caught up into the moment realized the craziness and dropped our weapons. Now instead of the duel, we were more worried that our uncle was going to rat us out to our parents. We had done wrong and were afraid of the consequences. Our parents never mentioned it over the years. Maybe they never knew. Maybe they were immune to our battles. In either case, the only reminder we have about that day is from our cousins who witnessed it from the back seat of their dad's car.

That moment in time is the worst and funniest battle I can remember with my sister. Even though, we declared our hate for each other many times, I always stood up for her. When she started dating the community dope-head I ratted her out to our mom. When older kids teased her on the bus, I would stand up and protect her, despite getting the brunt of the teasing afterwards. I have always had her back.

As we grew older, we grew closer. As adults, we lived together for a while. She's a tough woman. I hope I had something to do with that. She has a huge heart.

Did we fight like cats and dogs?  Hell yeah! Through all of the good and bad times we've had together, I respect her very much. She's a strong woman, a great mother and a loving wife and daughter.

I'm so proud of her. Love ya sis!