By Laura Handleton
Once, a handful of years ago, Sarah was wasting an hour before bedtime, looking on Zillow for an ideal place to retire. She felt that after a 38-year career in the classroom, she needed a place where it would be peaceful, quiet, and from time to time, lonely.
She discovered such a place. It was a rugged piece of land that was once a farm with a single, three-room cabin and a small barn. She thought it would well serve her as a “last frontier.” Sarah knew that Alaska was an unusual location for an English teacher to retire, but no one else was paying her bills, so Sarah did what Sarah wanted.
Sarah, along with her daughter, Emily, purchased the remote farm nestled in a wide-open area along the Susitna River in the heart of the southeastern corner of the state. They assembled a menagerie of pets and those eight furry critters seemed to love each other. This peculiar yet harmonious family was formed by four dogs, three horses, and one curious cat named Marmalade.
Marmalade, a sleek and agile feline with a coat as golden as her namesake preserve, was the first to arrive on the farm. She had been abandoned by her previous family that disliked her mischievous nature and penchant for exploring every nook and cranny. Sarah took Marmalade in and soon discovered that the cat’s curious streak was matched only by her affectionate personality.
As time passed, Sarah began to adopt dogs from various shelters and rescues, each with its own unique characteristics and quirks. Marmalade didn’t seem to mind because she knew she was the center of everyone’s attention and that wasn’t likely to change.
There was Rocky, a rough-around-the-edges Bulldog with a coat as white as snow; Don, a gentle Cocker Spaniel with a coat the same color as brand-new toast; Sir Importance, who answer to “Sir,” a rambunctious Cattle Dog with a coat that resembled hot coffee; and one other, a sweet-faced mutt named Gunner.
Each dog had their own distinct personality, but together, they formed an unlikely pack that roamed the farm’s fields, exploring hidden streams, chasing rabbits, and keeping Marmalade on her paws.
But the farm wasn’t just home to the dogs and the cat. In the pastures, three horses grazed under Emily’s watchful eyes. As a young girl, Emily had begged her mother for a pony, but the answer was always the same – “… we don’t have room for one.” There was Cassie, a proud Palomino with a flowing mane and tail; Starlight, a regal Arabian with a shimmering coat; and Thunder, a sturdy Draft Horse with a coat as black as coal. The horses were Emily’s pride and joy, and she spent hours riding them across the farm fields, exploring hidden trails and enjoying the views of the mountains on the horizon.
Despite their differences, dogs chasing sticks and a cat lounging in the sunbeams, this grand menagerie formed an unbreakable bond. Marmalade would often curl up beside Rocky or Don as they slept. Marmalade could purr in at least three octaves and her purring had a wholly contented nature, but it never seemed to bother the dogs. The horses would whinny softly as the dogs ran through the fields. And Emily, she watched most of the antics as she sat astride Cassie or Starlight, keeping an eye as Marmalade chased butterflies or pounced on unsuspecting rabbits.
When winter arrived each year, the farm transformed into a wonderland. Snowdrifts piled high against the fences and the air grew crisp and biting. Even in near zero temperatures and icy winds, this “blended” family remained together. The dogs would curl up by the fireplace, their tails wagging as they dreamed of “who knows what!” Marmalade would wander into Emily’s bedroom at night and purr softly as she snuggled beneath the blankets. And the horses, they were content in the barn with a bale of hay and a sack of oats. When Emily visited the barn to restoke the heaters, the horses would welcome her to their world. When it wasn’t too cold, Starlight would gallop through the snow-covered pastures the same way she would on a summer day.
In this rugged yet beautiful landscape, Marmalade had found her true home – among friends who accepted her for all her quirks and contradictions. She was no longer just a stray cat abandoned by her previous owner; she was part of something greater – a family that spanned species and breeds. And as she curled up beside Rocky or Don on those cold winter nights, purring softly into their ears – she knew that she had finally found where she belonged: in this patchwork of animals that called themselves family.
My Aunt Sarah died at age 88 in 2008. She so much wanted to see age 90, but that was not to be. Cousin Emily sold the farm and returned to Oregon. When the property was sold, the last two dogs and Thunder moved to shelters and Marmalade came to live with me but left for cat-heaven after only three months.
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I have collected postcards for only a few years, but when I found this set of cards, it was like an angel made them just for me. I changed a few names – not to protect the innocent, but to match the postcard captions. Thank you, Laura Handleton.
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[Editor’s note: This Tale of Eight Tails came to Postcard History Online Magazine from the TELL YOUR POSTCARD STORY TO POSTCARD HISTORY button on the homepage. Click on the button to learn how to make a contribution.]