The Heart is Slow to Understand

I knew I had to see her. She was the one who walked with us at the beginning and she treated us like gold. I knew we were near the end of this road and I didn't want to walk down this path with anyone else.

Our family's beloved veterinarian returned from maternity leave a short while ago. I was over the moon to hear this, but deflated just as quickly when I found out her work schedule was the same as mine.

I seriously considered asking for time off so I could take our cat to see her. Seriously!

But yesterday, by some amazing string of coincidences, I ended up with only one daycare child for the majority of the day. I took advantage of the lull in the action and booked an appointment to see my most favorite vet.

We had to walk but that was okay. Andre has enjoyed riding in a stroller since he was a kitten. He even allowed the kids to put a bonnet on his head, sat back and let them buckle him in and off they rolled.

Older cat, bigger stroller. So off we went, minus the bonnet. He basked in the sun, relaxed and enjoyed the ride. 

It was all light and easy when we arrived. A cat in a stroller does tend to attract a little attention. I felt the need to explain this was our only mode of transportation (I wasn't really a crazy cat lady).

We settled into our room and before long, our vet came in to see us.

She didn't like what she heard and saw. Every single breath Andre took while he was in the vet's office was loud and labored and raspy. What she heard with her stethoscope was even more than that. His lungs are in bad shape. It takes great effort for him to breathe. He has lost a lot of weight in the past six months.

None of this was good news. None of it was a surprise to me either. I already knew pretty much everything she told me. I knew our days were numbered but I may have been in denial as to how big that number was.

She looked at me with kindly eyes that spoke volumes. She said very little but her eyes told me, "Any time now ... any time."

My eyes filled to overflowing with dampness and I couldn't speak. When I could utter a few words, I said, "My head knew this but apparently my heart hasn't figured it out yet."

All I knew for sure was "Not today ..." to which she responded of course it wouldn't be "today".

I was grasping. I knew it.

She offered to give him some antibiotic which would last for two weeks but at this point it would not be a solution. It is only a band aid.

I felt so very greedy when I said "Yes" to the antibiotic. I'm not ready. I need time.

I need to fill up on all things Andre and ensure he lives out the rest of his days filling up on whatever cat food he prefers to eat (she said at this point, the last thing she is worried about are is kidneys).

He had a gourmet feast of "Friskies" salmon pate last night. The tasty gold nugget cat food (which has been a hit in our cat population since day one) is in his food dish.

It did my heart good to see him gobble down his preferred food choice. Every quiet breath he takes, every purr he manages to muster, every snuggle and every time our eyes connect will be duly noted in these final days.

My head knows this. But my heart is aching with sorrow for the day which is not too far away.

Our Furry Black Felines

These furry felines make my heart sing.

If Junior Cat was a human, I think he would have aspirations on being a comedian. He loves the limelight and I am almost certain hearing his humans laughing is the equivalent of our pleasure at hearing him purr.

His antics amuse and entertain me. I look at him and smile. My heart swells when I hear him pad into a room. He can be as swift and as silent as a panther stalking his prey when he wants to be. But his default walk is one where you can hear his footfall.

His second career choice, if he was a biped, may be that of a future hockey star. His paw handling skills are second to none and he bats around anything that moves. He is swift and adept at this talent. Every time I find a small cache of Senior Cat's "health food pellets" hidden under baseboards or the back door mat or under the stove, fridge or any other immovable object, I wonder what his thought process is, as he "scores" another goal.

I love that he adores my Youngest Son. I often watch him love his human. He will often caress my son's face with his demonstrative tail. I have never ever known a cat who expressed such emotion with their tail. He has a flair for speaking very loudly with his tail. My son lavishes Junior with affection and I don't even think it is conscious. The admiration society is a mutual one.

Our Senior Cat has slowed down so very much. His playful days are long gone but I love that he still thinks it is a sport to dash out the front door when no one is looking. He still has that young, free wandering spirit at his core. He is pretty easy to catch these days. My biggest fear is that he may sneak out one day and no one will notice. Being locked outside on his own would not be an ideal situation.

I love gazing into his soft, expressive eyes. This morning he climbed onto my bed and poised himself face-to-face with me. We just spoke with our eyes. I think it hurts when I touch him. He seems to tolerate being petted but he does not lean into it.

He lets me pick him up and curls up into a small ball in my arms. This morning, we gazed out the living room window and I talked of old times. The time when he went out and hunted down a muskrat, the time when the crows hunted him down when he went to drink out of their puddle, the friends he made when he escaped out the front door and would not allow us to catch him.

Our little senior kitty has a book within him.

I think he has lived a pretty charmed life. I would love to hear his perspective. He loved making friends and when he prowled the neighborhood, I heard of at least one dog-friend he had. He is just that kind of guy. He is a lover, not a fighter.

As he soaked up the spring sunshine on a cool day, I couldn't help but want to snap as many pictures as I could.

Our days are numbered. I can hear it with every breath he takes. I see it in his eyes. I just hope he lets me know when he is hurting too much. I hope I can see it.

It is coming. My heart is already aching as I lose just a small piece of him slowly but surely these last days.

I'm grateful for almost fifteen years of knowing, loving, adoring and forever convincing our wandering little black kitty to stay home where he is safe and loved. 

I think his golden years have been easy ones. There is a lot of "life" within our home and he still chooses to join in and watch the action, even though he isn't a big part of it these days.

I see the evolution of Junior Cat since he moved in. It is as though Senior is grooming him for the day this "kingdom" will be his. He will rule this roost in his own unique way, but the essence of his predecessor will forever live on.

Purr on, my little black kitty. For as long as you are comfortable doing so. 

You are teaching me how precious every breath is. 

You have grown up with us and we have so very many memories.

I'm grateful for every little story, picture, video and remembrance I've saved along our way.

We never took you for granted, little one. 

Never. 

You know that, because you could hear us calling you when you were out and about roaming the neighborhood. 

You knew our door was always open.

You loved us and all those who wandered through our door. 

Even yet, you like to meet and greet our guests.

It makes me smile that you will rouse yourself from your deep afternoon slumber when you hear the deep voices of your older human siblings, when they drop by for a quick visit.

You are adored. I am pretty sure you know that.

And for that, I am eternally grateful.

Awake

It is 1:00 a.m. as I sit here and write.

One o'clock in the morning and I am still awake. Normally, this is the time I may (or may not) start tossing and turning and waking up, after falling asleep anywhere in between 7 to 9 p.m.

Tonight, I am wide awake. I feel like I may have been asleep for at least a year. Probably much longer.

I made a conscious choice to stay home to be "present" for my sixteen year old son this weekend. Even when I am physically home, I am often so far away.

I have been lost in this, that or the other project. I have had tunnel vision as I go around fulfilling my responsibilities. I am tuned into the TV, the Internet and other wireless connections far too much. I have tried to be a good friend, daughter, sister and niece. As I sit here thinking of that, I can picture the times when my son has wanted to talk with me but I have been on the phone...

I have been a bit of a gadabout recently. It started small and it revved up into something bigger.

My son and I used to always have little chats about nothing or everything or just some easy going cat chat every night before he went to sleep. Then came the age where he stayed up longer than I did so I retreated and assumed he was too busy to talk so I just said a quick good-night.

Bit by bit, month by month, year by year we started drifting apart.

"This is natural" I told myself. He is a young man and he is pulling away. This is right and this is good.

Was he pulling away or was I becoming less available?

Recent events made me decide to pull the plug on the idea of running out to my mom's this long weekend.

It started because I was afraid my son would not cajole and convince Senior Cat to eat while I was gone. Our cat is wasting away in front of my eyes but I can convince him to eat about a tablespoon of his special soft renal cat food twice a day. Our senior cat has been failing lately and I was willing to take the blame. I had been away too much.

Then I realized that it wasn't just our cat who wasn't eating while I was away. I did my best to leave a few good, healthy ready-to-heat-up meals for my son, but when I would call at night to say good night he had often forgotten to eat.

Something pulled me back from leaving home this weekend. Even though my son acts like he doesn't need me around, I think he does.

Sometimes breathing the same air, in the same room is enough. But lately I felt like we needed to breathe some conversation into the room as well.

We still chat. He seems to feel free to tell me what is on his mind. Often there is really nothing I can do or say but he has assured me that he doesn't expect me to fix anything. Sometimes he just needs to vent.

Today was a good day.

The TV stayed off. All day. I had the radio on and I puttered away at long neglected tasks. I asked my son if he was willing to try and boost a dead car battery. He said he knew nothing about this so we figured out how to do it together. The car battery is still dead, but it was a good "bonding" activity.

He helped me assemble a bench that I bought. We drifted in and around and through the day. Together.

I wasn't running off to work or working on anything important. The phone was quiet and we just walked through the day. Together.

I tossed out the idea of going out to see a show. "Why not two shows??" I asked. Wouldn't it be fun to stay for a double feature?

Me, the girl who can not stay awake past 8:00 if I am sitting still, actually went to see two movies that started after supper!

And I stayed awake. For both of them.

Granted, I caffeinated myself with two extra cups of coffee in the afternoon in the hope it would help me through the night. But I feel so awake, I think it has less to do with the caffeine and more to do with feeling a heightened wakefulness as I lived the day.

It felt incredible not to feel pulled in so many different directions. Often when I have a day to myself, it is just that. One day. So I grab it close to myself and keep myself isolated from the world and I don't want to interact with anyone.

This weekend, I have three full days off. Off of everything. I didn't feel the need to hoard today and keep it to myself.

Sharing it with my son was exactly what and who I needed to keep me awake.

It has been a most incredible day. I turned off the television and tuned into my own life.

It is a good life. I think I will try to remain wakeful enough to enjoy it to its fullest.

And now? I am exhausted. Good night....

Life Lessons - Overwhelmed and Anxious

Small things become so big when they start to pile up on a person.

I feel like I have become a poster child for procrastination. I have honed the art quite well.

Lately, "income taxes" have been my unfinished business. Before that, it was "Christmas" looming over me. Before that, "reunion". Before that, it was our family's book project. That was a big one.

Six years of an undeclared deadline on a project that meant the world to me, changed me.

It taught me what "overwhelmed" felt like. The task became too big and too wide and too deep and too tall. It was bigger than life. And I couldn't see my way through it.

It taught me what the desire for "perfection" steals from a person. I didn't want to have any regrets when I put a cover on this project so I aimed high. I set the bar so high, I knew I could never attain my goal.

It taught me how easy it is to do "nothing", verses one small step at a time. When something feels so incredibly big, it is hard to believe that one short hour will make any difference in the whole scheme of things.

It taught me how much I need a "deadline" in order to complete the task at hand. Wishy washy ideas of whenever, however and whatever did not help. As much as I detest deadlines, I have learned to respect them.

It taught me a better way of thinking, approaching and listening to my Youngest Son when he has a larger than life assignment hanging over his head.

It taught me that "overwhelmed" can be a symptom of depression or cause a person to feel depressed.

In a nutshell, my six year struggle with the most important work I have done to date taught me "compassion".

I didn't appreciate those lessons as I trudged through the job I thought I may never complete.

Life has had many similar, yet oh so different, lessons.

It's funny how the words of my Oldest Son are coming to the tip of my consciousness these days. "I think I was depressed" are the words he uses to describe his high school years. Depressed?!? On the outside, looking in, I would have never in a million years described his behaviours as "depressed".

Back in the days of raising My Oldest, I was overwhelmed with work, responsibility, financial worries, raising a young and willful Younger Child. I came home from a long and stressful day at work and I didn't look beyond his words, moods and actions.

What was going on beneath the surface of My Oldest, as he walked the hard walk during his adolescent years?

He kept so very much to himself. I don't blame him. The foundation which was laid during his young and innocent years was so very flawed. How could I expect and hope for him to open up to me when our relationship was tenuous, at best?

He talks to me now. I am so very grateful for that. Because I see some of these very same issues coming to the surface within his youngest brother.

Life teaches you what you need to know.

I am so sorry I didn't know more when I raised my oldest child. But I am beyond grateful for the way the lessons I have learned along the way have made a profound difference in the way I parented from that day forward.

You just never stop learning.

Living in a Vacuum

You get back what you give to the world.

Lately, I have been very selfish. I have held myself in and away from the world, from life, from risks and daring to dream.

In doing so, I have created a vacuum within my heart, my soul, my home and my life.

As I walked through my quiet little world, I enjoyed it at first. No emails to return, the phone was quiet and it felt like a little bit of an oasis in the desert.

Then it became just a little too desert like. I think I became dehydrated.

A little voice in me started to tell me "Don't start keeping score now! You know better." This was not a time to think the world had forgotten me and just went on spinning. I was the one who retreated.

I could stay quiet and withdrawn and the world would definitely go on without me. There is something comforting about this, yet at the same time it makes my heart hurt a little.

If I want to feel alive and lively, I must participate in this thing called "life". I must give more of myself to feel what I need to feel to wake up in anticipation of the day before me.

Interactions with people I know at arm's length have changed. What (or who) has changed? Is it just me? When I go about my days, wishing I didn't have to get out of bed in the morning how does that affect the people I meet?

I don't think my eyes twinkle and shine. They feel hollow and withdrawn.

I don't think my spirit invites involvement and interaction. I don't want to partake in the give and take required in a conversation because I feel too needy.

I am not feeding my soul with what it needs the most. Good food, exercise, fresh air and sunshine are what I need. What I want is closed curtains, the television, a pillow and a blanket.

I know I need to push myself out and over and through this.

I know it, because I looked into the lifeless and depleted eyes of my Youngest Son last night, I saw a reflection of myself in them.

What I have is contagious.

I must grab that oxygen mask and save myself so I can breathe life back into my son. If I want to let myself down and not live my life to its potential, that is my business. But I'm not bringing anyone down with me. I am not!

"Life is an echo. 

What you send out, comes back. 

What you sow, you reap. 

What you give, you get. 

What you see in others, exists in you. 

Remember, life is an echo. 

It always gets back to you. 

So give goodness."

Unknown 

Good Morning, Sunshine!

The sky has started to lighten up around 6:20 a.m. and I have been opening up the blinds and welcoming it into our home at the same time.

The snow is melting, there are puddles aplenty and mud can be found with every step you take. 

It is coming. 

Spring is in the air.

P.S. Working weekends are zapping what little energy I have these days. I am still feeling incredibly wordless. I think I am going to go park myself in a sun beam today and soak up the last day of March and anticipate flipping the calendar page tomorrow morning.

Keep it Simple

I think I found an alternate way of living if the whole Bed & Breakfast thing never comes to fruition. Living in a "Tiny Home" looks like a perfect alternative.

I can see it now. If my life ever evolves to two-day weekends again, I could set up a Tiny Home on the Prairie somewhere, nestled in some place close to my roots. Wouldn't it be nice to live back on our family's home place?

I would move only the necessities of living out into that little weekend oasis and discover how much I could live without.

The simpler, the better.

I think the weight of owning, maintaining, replacing and eventually discarding too many material belongings is weighing me down.

I love this statement:

“It is truly remarkable how little I actually need to be content. I’ve been testing the boundaries of this, and have found for myself, the more that I own and the more that I want, the more burdened I feel. The conscious choice to live with less, for myself, is akin to freedom.” ~ Natalie Pollard (http://tinyhousefor.us/tiny-house-spotlight/she-found-freedom-and-comfort-in-a-tiny-house-on-a-homestead/)

Of all the House Hunters episodes I have watched, it is the episodes on "Tiny Homes" that peeked my interest the most.

I want to live a simple life, close to my roots and disconnect from the addictions of television and the internet.

It is a life my son and girlfriend are presently living, in a "Small Home" about 45 minutes out of the city and somewhat centrally located between several small towns.

They don't have satellite television or an internet connection. They live simply and it sounds as though my son is very much enjoying "keeping things simple" which is necessary due to the small square footage of their home.

Life feels so very heavy right now. Half of that weight is in the excess I must cull from our home. Maybe the key to deciding what I can live without, is in thinking "tiny".

I may need to hold onto whatever is required to run my daycare in the present moment, but that doesn't need to infect all other areas of our home.

Keep it simple. Within my heart, my home and my happiness. The best things in life aren't "things"...