corrvin: gray cat lying on the floor, text "I'll get right on that" (right on that)
So it's been the summer for it-- two of my co-workers had their elderly cats die, and another friend posted on Facebook that his cat went this morning. Every one pulls a little bit at my heart because losing Eldest Son Cat is still so raw. I haven't cried this much in years.

Young Spotted Cat Grim is learning how to be #1 spotted cat. He hasn't mastered the cuddle or the upside-down-kitty, but he does come to snuggle in the bed and he talks to me a lot. The other day a co-worker was over and had his 5 year old daughter, and Grim just lit up and followed her around to be petted. That's what I love to see!

I've actually had a lot of fun this month-- we went to an event in Tulsa for Ingress, I did some sewing and some knitting and a lot of baking (and got pretty good at bread). We've had people over, and been all sociable. All of which is good for me.

But damn if I'm not still, in some corner of my heart, all busted-up broken about my boy. I mean, I knew life was going to be a continuing succession of loved ones dying, and I've been right so far, but I didn't expect it to hurt so much and for so long. It's still clean grief-- I mean, it's not festering, it's not awful. Just aching-sad. It's healing over slowly and from the inside out, like it should. But it still hurts, and I think it's going to be tender there for a long time, if not the rest of my life.

(When I am old and dying, I believe I want to thoroughly confuse my nurses and loved ones by demanding to be brought a spotted kitten, that I might snoogle it for the next generation. You know, as old men plant trees they'll never sit under...)

Date: 2014-09-19 05:49 pm (UTC)From: [personal profile] fallconsmate
fallconsmate: (shoulder poodle)
whoever says that the furry or feathered members of our family are not as important as the two legged ones? they LIE.

*hugs and hugs* when my granny was in the nursing home, my aunts used to sneak her dog trixie in on a regular basis. they'd tell the nurse "oh no, we aren't smuggling contraband, no, not us!" and the nurse would laugh and shut the door behind them. that's good nursing staff. :) (trixie was the last trixie-rat-terrier, the one who was allowed in the house and slept on the bed.)

my other granny, mama's mother who was cared for at home, did not like animals. her last 2 years, the big old great pyranese mountain dog used to come and put his head in her lap, and GT would remind mama to give him her leftovers because he was a good old dawg.

and shadow is my shadow, silly thing that she is.

*hugs and hugs* i'm glad good things are going on, too. that helps ease pain. (i gotta tell my ex that i MUST love him, i cancelled a tattoo sitting to go make sure his apartment is ok. hee!)


corrvin: "this space intentionally not left blank" (Default)

June 2017


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