And Now We Are Catless

It's a strange feeling to take a cat to the vet, and then come home without her. Of course, we did bring her home, but not really her. Of course, she hadn't been herself for a while. But still, just like we did three months ago, we loved her and cried on her, loaded her into the crate, and took her, tearily, to the vet- the lovely vet who helped us help her. Since Pip's trip to the vet was so recent,  it was a familiar process- we knew what decisions we had to make, and how to make them. We pre-knew our preferences. Blessedly, it was smooth and peaceful, and we brought Zarley home and buried her next to Pip, under the rhododendron bush.
When we were finished, we ritually started to strip and clean the house. We threw away the litter box, gathered up all the random water bowls that were scattered around the house. We disassembled the steps that our old girls had needed to get up on the bed in their later years, and pulled out the scratching post and bed and various other things. It felt cathartic, to me- not because I wanted all traces of Zarley to be gone, but because it felt right to address the truth that the cats were here, and now things have changed- now they are not here.
But the weirdest thing of it all is not... I don't know. Considering? Taking care? Worrying? Scott vacuumed and I didn't have to worry about the cat being afraid of the machine. I mixed up some tuna and didn't have to worry about cats circling my feet and crying for the juice. We went in and out of the house without having to worry about Zarley slipping out. Zarley was a little "special" and was the neediest, loviest cat ever. She followed me constantly, would pace back and forth while I puttered in the kitchen, begging to be held like a baby. She would pounce onto me if I took too long to pick her up. Now I can walk and putter unfettered.
You know me and my heretical faith, refusing to see a divinely-intended point in suffering. But I do think that if we are paying attention, we can develop empathy from our relatively small suffering, for all those who are suffering greatly. Putting Zarley's things away and facing a catless future makes me ache for people who pack up a child's things, or a husband's. It pricks at my undercurrent of fear of the day when I come home without Scott, or he comes home without me. I can't can't can't imagine.
For now we clean up and carry on and feel this sorrow, and hope never to feel any sorrow worse.

The End of the Beginning

Zarley and her Lion friend, surveying the yard

When we got home from California, it was after 2:00AM. Zarley was fast asleep and when we woke her to greet her, she was stunned and groggy, and didn't really warm up to us for a while, which is unusual for her. We brought her to our bedroom, put her on the bed and she didn't move, just sort of hovered there not standing, not sitting, blinking. Finally, I put her back on the couch in the living room, where she'd been found, and went to bed. She looks skinnier than she did (to my memory anyway) a week ago. We weighed her this morning and she's a wee 5 pounds. At some point, she rejoined us in her usual spot in bed, and today she's a bit more back in the usual swing of things. Last night, after putting her back to reset herself, I lay in bed and suddenly had tears in my eyes, remembering how little time we have with her, remembering how deeply sad it was to lose Pip and how much I miss her, and mourning this soon-to-be-totally-over part of my life, the part with two cats in the yard. I felt guilty about leaving her for this week, but she was visited by loving friends and family, who all reported her to be purring and eating and drinking, so that was a relief. I guess now we just wait, and watch, and snuggle as much as time will let us.

Eeyore's New Year's Message

What a year 2011 was. A roller-coaster of emotion. Some friends who were in dire danger have turned back toward health, while we lost a dear friend and colleague. Here on the hill all has been well- we've started to see what it means to be aging, and to have aging parents, but so far so good. But I am always a little bit dreading, having had such a charmed life, waiting for the other shoe to drop. I imagine it can't just go on being smooth sailing forever, especially when people I know are hit hard by tragedy. How can we expect to be happy and good like this in the long run? Our turn is coming, I just know it.

I don't know if being constantly wary is good for me, or bad- I suppose bad, because it makes me a little bit unable to enjoy the present fortunes. But for some reason, I am loath to just relax and live in the now. New Year's is a time when I feel this particularly acutely. What horrors will the new year bring? Will this be the year when I finally get what's coming to me?
I know, I know! Gloomy! And living with a low grade fear-fever doesn't insulate me against bad things that may or may not come, they come whether I am ready or not. My mom told me once, when I was young, that it was better to have low expectations because that way, I'd never be disappointed. Sound advice! And it's served me, well...
But here we are, days before the new year and dealing with the news that our lovey cat Zarley is in (has?) chronic renal failure. We're between diagnosis and plan, but we are not those people who mortgage their family to pay to keep their pets alive. We want to get the timing right and honor her sweet self, and be good pet-owners and make it as good for everyone as possible. She's such a sweet kitty, a crazy old lady, and outside of my family and a few friends, one of my longest-standing relationships. I want to be as good to her as she's been to me.
And our Archdiocese is slowly eking out plans that may totally change our lives, professionally and personally. Our parishes are being re-configured, and while it was always something that would need to be done, there is a lot to this plan that is scary. I spent more than a few minutes at Christmas Mass thinking "is this the last Christmas we'll have this? Where will we be a year from now? Who will be our pastor? Will we still be a staff?" They won't tell us anything real until they're darned good and ready and so all there is to do is stew and worry and spiff up our resumes. I'll be glad to have a Masters' Degree in my pocket.
You know me, I can deal with bad news but I do hate suspense. I don't exactly want to fast-forward through time, but if I could only get the ending of the story emailed to me, I think I'd do better in the midst.
So happy, cheery new year everyone!! I promise this year of blogging (which should be more often than last year, since I have no homework to do!) will not be totally gloomy. There are good things coming, too, this I know.

Hello Kanata, Ontario!

Have you heard of keyword-search poetry? Well my counter program doesn't track keyword searches (oh how I wish it did!!) but it does have a button called "who's on?" which is how I saw that someone in Kanata, Ontario is looking at my blog RIGHT NOW! So hi Canada! It also tells me that someone always enters my blog via the "Who is your Unibrow Baby" page, which I think is funny.
On with the randomness!
It has been brought to my attention that I talk like an old lady. Born of my life as a Youth Minister/Role Model, I don't swear much (unless I feel like it's absolutely frickin' necessary) so I say things like "gosh" "darn" and "heck." Once, I was leading prayers with teenagers, and said "can you all move a little closer so that I don't have to hollar?" and a girl near me giggled and said "my Grandmother says 'hollar'." I sound a little bit like this guy:

So?
It's a real old fashioned Winter here, and I am out of love with it. My winter spirit lasted way longer than usual, what with the pretty snow everywhere and all that, but now I am sick of wearing coats and my mittens are falling apart and just the thought of that crunching sound the snow makes when I walk on it makes my teeth hurt. My hair is like hay and that spot of dry skin on my elbow is bugging me and I have just had it. What is this, January? Crap.
Half of my friends on Facebook are complaining about the weather and the other half are complaining about people who complain about the weather. "HellOOOOo, this is New ENGland, it SNOWs here, get OVER it!!" I am staying out of the fray, but you know the truth, dear reader.
My mother and my cat are both experiencing the beginning stages of dementia. I don't see Mom much but I think of her every time my cat hisses at her daughter, for no good reason. I guess that's enough said about that.
G-dangit.

staying up late

I don't have much to say but I hate to have a rant be my last post, lingering on the top of the page. Tonight we are in suspended animation, because later (much later) is the Laser Tag Lockin for the high school youth. They show up late at night and play play play until the crack of dawn, and then go home. It's fun!
I won't be playing this year because with this cold, it would make me cough until a premature death. But I traditionally go and greet the bus when it gets to the laster tag place, which is nearer our house than to the church. I hang out until I can't stay awake much longer, then head home. The weekend is a bust, really, because by the time Scott gets home Saturday morning, the sun is coming up and he is completely exhausted- we lay around all day and recover. Not a bad payoff for staying up late once a year. But I have a list of to do's, and will probably sneak out and be productive while Scott sleeps it off in the morning.
Speaking of productive, this week was one of catch-up and I did manage to get a lot accomplished at home and at work, after last week's whirlwind. In fact this month looks just a bit easier than last (good Lord I should hope so) and that makes me breathe a lot easier, despite the bronchitis. Today we took our 14+ year old cat Zarley to the vet to have her nails attended to- she has double paws (at least) and lately some of her lesser-used claws have been growing out of control and into the pads of her feet. Ouch! We were like proud parents, presenting her to the vet, who was lovely. When we tried to eject her from the crate in the exam room, she stuck one giant foot out and the vet tech said "Oh my God! Is that ONE foot?" We beamed in pride of our unique and sweet kitty, who was very well behaved the whole time. Now she's feeling better, trying out her short nails and not sticking to the carpet anymore. We were relieved to hear that she's doing well, physically, and is healthy and sound.
And that's all the news there is.