I sit with a warm special shawl covering my back (Thank you, Dawn...) and in the process of processing grief for Fatty's death (because I guess we never truly recover, grief isn't an illness)... This blog might or might not be totally coherent. The second of solid meals in me and my eyes dry from tears. I sit hoping that the tears stay at bay for a few more hours, and that the night won't bring any nightmares.
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| The littlest of loves |
No one warned me about grieving a companion pet...and the disbelief and shock it felt when I started to feel a million memories rushing in, while expecting to see Fatty at every turn, carry him carefully to eat or sing a little song while giving him medicine. No one told me I would need people to lean on, or to cry with. I felt I could do it alone. Conquer the wall of death with Fatty. He was so angry about his injured leg and really ready to die after the injury. I saw him trying so hard to get to death the last two days and I was proud of him in a small way when I saw that he reached death and was able to slide in the door of eternal slumber. But after death? I had no clue that after death there are high consequences to pay for the love shared during life... not just sniffles and "a good cry to get over the death of an old cat". No finding the silver lining in saying "He lived a good long life", or "Well, at least he made it to 19." None of that mattered at all. My friend since childhood had left. The two fluffy friends I got right before my parents divorce in 2001 before I knew there would be no more holidays with them... He and Bentley as my companion pets did something only companion pets can do: offer a safe friendship with trust and love.
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| One and two |
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| Peanut butter and jelly |
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| Double trouble |
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| Santa and Rudolph |
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| Apples and Oranges |
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| Hot Chocolate with Marshmallow |
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| Broccoli e Sasich |
They didn't have the complicated problems of family or the instability some friends have. They came into my life at a very vulnerable point between child and lady and they stayed with me in each milestone I passed: watching me write flashcards for college exams, staying up till 4 AM to write college papers, each Thanksgiving alone, Christmas alone (they got me "gifts" and I wrapped them for myself), Easter alone, studying the Catechism to convert to becoming Catholic, they knew when I graduated college and sat next to the mouse on the right side of my hand when I started writing papers for graduate school. They were happy to accept the Chef into our little feline nest and made space for him on the couch....nuzzling him too.
So loosing a companion pet is much more than an old cat rolling over and "croaking" as the veterinarian who injured Fatty indelicately put it. Loosing a companion pet is loosing history with a fur friend, loosing someone familiar you've seen for the last 365 days of the last 19 years. Every morning and evening started with Fatty and Bentley. There is no one I would have rather greeted me each day than Fatty sitting at the top of the basement step pawing the door and meowing for me to open it. He always came out so thrilled to see me like if I had been gone for ages and he had missed me even if it had been a mere 7 hours of sleep. Last week I couldn't sleep and came down for water at 4 AM, he was sitting there and was thrilled like if he won the lottery for seeing me so early.
The beginning of grief is hard to describe...its more like disbelief that this is truly happening...then a pull to get back on track with the plan for the day only to see a wall of emotions coming like a tsunami wave and saying, "Oh big huge tsunami emotions like that are not for me." Then the wave hits so hard that it feels like drowning in memories, tears, engulfing in a flash of violent rage and sadness that is so strong it feels like the tsunami waves are flooding everything you know in your life and drowning out the the ability to move or think or swallow. Then the wave pulls back and you are left bent over from the horror of how awful it was to drown in tears and think, "Am I loosing my mind? I thought I was a composed person!" And as soon as you catch your breath another wave hits and this time you are weak from the first hit that the second one makes you wish you were numb and in disbelief again....the only solution you can think of is to ask for help. The fist night I spent crying every few hours and clutching my Miraculous Medal of Our Lady of Grace begging her for help. Asking her to be my mom and cover me with her mantle. I covered myself with my blanket and asked for the world to stop time and bring back my cat. I wondered if he was cold outside under the dirt and the tears would roll. "Help...help...help..." Is all I could muffle to say. The knot in my stomach was so hard I thought it would get harder and break. I got sick. I cried so much I forced myself to drink water as I knew my hydration was important.
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