As I embark on designing and launching this website, one of my two namesakes is ailing. I feel like this is an incredibly important chapter to open with you. One that doesn’t get much play or emphasis. I have never been through this before. My first pals were the family doggies. My first girl was a lab mut mix named Carrie, for Carrie Fischer (who was every bit as cool as Princess Leia. She passed away near my doorway, close to both mine and my brother’s room. She was my first real loss. It was devestating. but also peaceful. I didn’t witness her pain or see her deteriorate, she just didn’t get up in the morning when I called to her. She was my first best friend. My next bestie went through high school with me and my folks took her with them to Hawaii when I started college. I will always feel guilt over that one. But Mom and Dad took care of her and when it came time their dear friend who was a veterenarian helped her cross the rainbow bridge at home. I am eternally grateful.
Now. Here here I sit. I have 2 amazing, distinctly different creatures who have been my family for almost 18 years. One of my girls is really going through it. Pez. Affectionately pesto, little bear, buddy. I cannot begin to craft a love letter strong enough to convey how much this being has meant to me or how she has taught me the meaning of family in so many ways.
She’s going through it. She’s walking through the valley. And I can’t give her a ladder or carry her to higher ground. I can’t preform miracles, change time or make the cells in her little body cooperate. I am giving her all the supplements, all the injections, fluids, doctor’s appointments, web searches and LOVE. Nothing will fix or undo what is coming. I feel like I’m in some sick joke. I know she is a cat. And many might say, she’s “just” a cat. To those people, I just say I feel sorry for ya. Many of the richest, meaningful experiences of love, or life in general, generate in the most unconventional spaces. To those, all I will say (for you) is try to be open.
My little pal is a black and caramel tourtie calico (I will obv post many pics and videos for you in this post). She is the smartest animal I’ve ever been around by far, as well as the most communicative. Different purrs and shouts for all the things. She has been here for a divorce, remarriage, toddlers, different homes and all of her medical stuff. She has been there. And I have done my best to be here for her, too.
And now I sit with her each day. Some days thinking this is the last week and some days thinking – oh wow. She’s killing it. I have to remember these moments in my fingerprints and happy tears. But the shadow of the valley won’t fuck off as much as I beg it to. I have never been in this seat where you’re expected to know when is the right time to say goodbye. It’s an excruciating position to be in.
I had an ex who once told me that his Dad had him grieve a pet before they were allowed to get one. Helps to foster detachment and limit suffering. While I understand the concept, I have tried over the years to propagate this response/ feeling, all I have been able to do is generate more suffering. I am sure there is a way, I just started on a longer path.
So I’ll give you a quick run down of what we are currently dealing with (and what we’ve been dealing with) and ask ANY questions at all. I want to help in every way I can.
My little one was the runt. No one wanted her and she was cast aside. I picked her up and we linked immediately. She was like “this is nice and all but get me outta here”. I put my name on her that day.
My little bear has been my alarm clock every morning for 17 1/2 years. I love her zest. I love her emphatic little voice.
I am waking up early on purpose these days, since I know she is feeling these things but is unable to get her body to be the cutest nuisance that she inevitably is.
My incredible husband says you can’t “pre-grieve.” It just doesn’t work. My fear is that he is right. For now, I will just give her all of the love.
