Newest

Older

Profile

Notes

Dazzle Me

Contact

Buddies

Favorite Sites

Ad Report Card
Ah Yes, Medical School
Cute Overload
Crime Library
Crime Rant
DanjerusKurves
Diaryland
Dipsy Doodle
DJRainDog
Doghigh
Dooce
Doodle Zenovka
Dream Moods
Finslippy
Four Four
Fumbling With Needles
Going Loopy
Indexed
Knitting Spaz
James Lileks
Post Secret
Sarkasmo
Second Life
Southern Gal Knits
Suburban Bliss
Terra-Cottage
The Exceller Fund
Things My Boyfriend Says
TMZ
We Three Bitches
Wendy Knits
Yeahimadork

2007-03-22 - 7:31 p.m.

Valley of the Shadow

Settle in, wee ones. This is a long one. Put on music that will encompass many moods. Grab a favorite beverage, or two. Or more. Who's counting? I'm too self-obsessed to notice, so don't look at me. Although I want you to. Sure, grab some Little Debbies. I'll wait. You might not want to eat them though. Or you might stuff your face later. Do not hold me accountable. I don't come with a warranty, people.

Here we go:

Today has not been the best day. Mom chained me up in the garage and made me scrub all my Fisher-Price toys...twice. And she kept calling me Christina for some reason.

But seriously, folks, mom woke me up with a knock on the door around 8 am. I'm used to SweetPea waking me up by 9:30-ish, so this was strange. What was wrong?

"Wha? Whazizzit?" I loudly mumbled.

"It's Shadow. I think she's dead. Or almost. Come downstairs."

Oh jeeeeeeeeeeeeeesus. Nooooo.

Shadow (recently named) is a small black stray who was buddies with BooBoo, before Boo became our indoor cat. She spent most of her time napping on the back porch. She had a bad eye infection in one eye and was scared of people. Over the last week especially, I was able to get her to trust me enough to get close so I could pet her. She still fussed though, not quite sure what to make of me and the fingers delicately rubbing her head. A few days ago, when I told her mom thought of the name "Shadow," she instantly stopped hissing at me.

And when I brought BooBoo out for a visit this week, to let Shadow know nothing bad had happened to her, and that she was in fact, doing quite well, I swear I saw a positive change in Shadow's demeanor afterwards. I caught her sunning herself on the porch, which I hadn't seen her do before. She seemed more content and less suspicious of the GIANT PEOPLES. Perhaps that sounds stupid to some of you, but I don't care. It made me happy, so THERE.

Anyhoo, I was hoping I could get her to let me clean out her eye, and also nurse the two foot injuries she had, one which cropped up a week or so ago. First off, I'm a sucker for sick animals, and secondly, I'm not nearly as hesitant around them as I should be. Rabies? Parasites? Oozing wounds? Cat Scratch Fever? BRING IT. I'M ARMED WITH HYDROGEN PEROXIDE AND A WET PAPER TOWEL, BITCHES.

I envisioned Shadow getting better and being able to partake in the inside world (primo kitten territory) with Boo and Emily. When she disappeared all day yesterday, we figured it was because the lawn guys had scared her off. The dogs were intent on sniffing a certain area of the back fenceline that afternoon, and I saw a black foot. There she is, I thought. The bowl of treats mom left out before sunset were gobbled up later that evening. She's around, alright.

So hearing from mom that she was dead, or near death, was a total shock this morning. We knew she wasn't in the best health, but she certainly wasn't a sack of potatoes either. I threw on some clothes, kept the dogs in the bedroom and ran downstairs. That poor baby. She was still alive, barely. Aside from the injuries we already knew of, there was nothing new physically to explain her sudden turn for the worse. We decided the infections must've gotten the best of her. Perhaps yesterday's fleeing escapades hastened her condition.

Mom was convinced she'd be gone within the hour. "Shhh! Don't say that! We don't know yet!" I snapped.

We moved her up to a cushion on top of a chair, and covered her with blankets to keep her warm. Fortunately, it was a nice day in the high 70's, with a light breeze, so the weather wasn't causing her any undue stress. I went back out with a few wet paper towels, tissues and hydrogen peroxide (TOLD YOU) to help clean her up. It's the least I could do. I was finally able to clean out that one crusty peeper. I talked to her softly and said "You know, Shadow, I told you I'd get your eye cleaned up, but I sure wish it wasn't under these conditions, sweetie."

I wrapped her front infected paw with a hydrogen peroxide soaked tissue. She only moved the slightest bit here and there, and meowed faintly a few times. I saw her watching me out of her one "good" eye (that one was getting yucky, so I cleaned it up as well). I kissed her head, told her I loved her, and went inside for awhile. Every 20 minutes or so, I'd go back to check on her, terrified she'd passed on.

I knew I was hoping for too much to believe she'd somehow recover, but I believed it ANYWAY. Mom and I both told her that if she needed to slip away, to go ahead and let it happen. It was ok. There were lots of kitties and bunnies and people waiting to greet her.

Amazingly, she hung on for several more hours, and I gave her a little washcloth bath on the head, wet her mouth and moistened her nose, and brought BooBoo out to see her. She watched Boo squiggle in my hands, and then felt Boo snuggle up next to her, facing the opposite way, on the blanket for a few minutes. I didn't want Boo too close in case Shadow was contagious, so I made sure they didn't actually touch. I really believe that gave Shadow great comfort knowing her friend was there.

Around 1:30, I decided to head upstairs for a nap. I went out to check on Shadow a few more times first, gave her several kisses and made a purring noise on her head (to remind Shadow of her momma), told her I loved her and to get some rest. I wasn't sure she'd be alive when I came down again. But I still thought maybe there was a chance.

After flopping around in bed for awhile, not being able to turn my brain off, I finally fell asleep around 3 pm. I'd told mom to wake me by 4 or so, but I planned to tell her to let me rest longer when she came a-knockin'.

When mom woke me at 4:30, I asked how Shadow was.

"I think she's gone, honey."

Ohhhhh God.

I went downstairs to check. She had passed on. I cried and cried. But she looked so peaceful...one paw was slightly outstretched and curled. I wished I had been there at the moment she left, but I think she wanted to go on her own. I kissed her and stroked her fur. She knew she was loved, and even though it happened on her last day of life, she had finally been held and cared for by a human.

I'm relieved she's no longer in any pain or distress. But I miss her terribly.

I spent the late afternoon getting her grave ready. Mom and I agreed on a spot in the back right corner of the yard, in the garden. I hauled out the spade and the shovel, which probably haven't been used since an ex-boyfriend buried my beloved cat Moles in the garden in 1994. Guys will do anything when they want to get back together with you.

But actually, Moles was the only cat Dean ever liked, so it was fitting. And very helpful, because I was a blubbering mess/shocked zombie. Moles (a.k.a. Mozar, which turned into Moh-Zah), had been hit by a car that morning. I was devastated. And my other cat, Noodle, HATED ME for months afterwards (and slept on top of the back freezer -- the same one we put the ice cream in, btw), because I made the boneheaded decision to show him Moles' body before we buried it. I wanted him to "understand" that his friend had passed away, but I think Noodle saw it as a threat ("This is what happens to naughty cats") and/or he thought I had killed Moles. To this day, I'm convinced of that. And you thought I was weird BEFORE.

Luckily, Noodle and I became very close in later years, but every once in awhile, he would look at me funny, like "Don't think I haven't forgotten, bitch." And whenever I brought up Moles in our little "chats", he would start growling and scamper off. No lie, man.

Anyway, after three sessions with the shovel, I decided that I couldn't dig any further. Roots, branches and rocks were getting in the way.

I went in for a break, sat down, looked at mom and said "You can bet your sweet ass I didn't plan on doing THIS today."

Mom gathered up some towels and a plastic bag (I KNOW, but there was no way I could make room for a box). I went upstairs and found some faux-flowers from my gift basket business days. She tied them together with green yarn, and when I asked, she was able to find a new toy mousie to bury in Shadow's paws.

Everyone together: Awwwwwww.

After a few final kisses and tears, I laid Shadow to rest. The hole wasn't quite long enough, but I didn't have any ex-boyfriends handy, so I did the best I could. Let's just say I wouldn't be surprised if mom sees Shadow again one last time. Thankfully, I'll be in Kentucky by then.

I patted down the earth, said my goodbyes, and put the flowers on her grave. I'm sad, but relieved she's at peace. Tomorrow I'll bring BooBoo out for a visit. Shadow would like that. I might make a little plaque to hang on the fence too. The heart-shaped one Mom painted for Moles ("You Are My Sunshine") is still going strong. I took pictures of it the other week -- I'll have to post those one day when you're in a REALLY GOOD MOOD. ("Oh shit. More animal death imagery. And it's Monday. Thanks a fucking lot, Halo!")

I'll shoot for a Thursday, 'k?

You know, I can't tell you how many times it occurred to me today that Shadow is not the best name for a cat. ("And yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no big fuckin' hyper-ass doggies.") And like mom said, before we named her: "They always seem to die once I give them names."

Yowza. Let's hope BooBoo keeps going strong. If not, they can bury her alongside me, in the garden, after I keel over from rabies/cat cooties.

I wonder which ex-boyfriend mom can rustle up for that job? ("You did cheat on her. And lie about it, all the while stalking her online and accusing her of cheating on you, which she never did, because she was too NICE to ever give you, the guy who cried on the phone at the drop of a hat about his insecurity and loneliness, a REAL REASON to cry. C'mon now. Be a man, for ONCE. I still can't believe she put up with your bullshit for over a year. Grab a shovel, fucker. It's payback time.")

Oh yes, Mom WILL use the F word when warranted.

And in other heart-wrenching news, the CD player in my car isn't working all of a sudden. Methinks the Mazda dealership screwed something up when they took the dashboard off to fix the A/C. GODDAMMIT! 17+ hours on a roadtrip back home this weekend with no CD player? Surely, you must be joking ("No, I'm not, and stop calling me Shirley." Buh-duh-bump).

There's no way I can prove that's the cause, and even if I can convince them to fix it for free (I mean, C'MON, after all the money I've spent) I'm leary about letting those a-wipes TOUCH my car again.

"Well, the CD player's fixed, but be careful with the transmish. She's a touch dicey now."

"The transMISH? That wasn't even close to the what you were working on, you stupid fuck. What the HELL?"

"Lady, we could pop the hood and figure it out, but it'll cost ya. And uh, the A/C...gotta say, not blowing cold like it was, so it's uppa you."

"The only thing UPPA ME is your thumb. Was it bored from being UPPA YOURS? Guess what? That's not where my wallet is. Remove it NOW, while I call the Better Business Bureau. And gee, turns out I've got all day, so I can tell everyone who walks in this service door to go ELSEWHERE. I can be QUITE VOCAL and ANIMATED when I want to. See, I don't LIVE HERE."

"Awww, Christ, lady. Ok, ok. We'll get it fixed, I promise."

"Yes, you will. And stop referring to me as 'lady.' You can call me Princess Halo. And don't forget to detail my car once you fix it PROPERLY. Be sure to throw in a HUGE gift certificate towards future work at ANY Mazda Dealership, and a few wiper blades and oil filters, mmmkay? And if future work in the next year or THREE entails ANYTHING you guys worked on/fucked up, I'm driving back here to see you PERSONALLY. Even if you don't work here anymore, I'll find ya. Got it, jackass?"

"Hey, lad...er, Princess Leia or whatever, are you psycho or sumthin'?"

"Just about."

And if that doesn't work, I'll have a chat with service consultant Karla, who I know never wants to hear the following: "Karla? Hi, it's ME again. Here's the deal..."

Then there's the ol' getting the President of the goddamn company involved if needed:

"Thanks for your time, sir. Have you heard about blogging? Well, it just so happens that I've mentioned my Mazda service mishaps in mine...and if I keep mentioning BAD MAZDA SERVICE over and over, things might, ya know, get around. Now, I hate to harp over SHITTY MAZDA DEALERSHIP SERVICE IN HOUSTON, but if I have to bring my 1999 Protege in one more time to JOE MYERS MAZDA and they FUCK UP AGAIN, well, what other choice would I have? Than to SERVE AS A WARNING FOR OTHERS WHO ARE CONSIDERING USING JOE MYERS MAZDA FOR SERVICE."

"I'm sorry you feel that way, blah blah BLAH marketing spiel new car model blah BLOW BLOW blah blah 2009 with human leather-covered gas pedals from the bad mechanic apples in Houston, 18 cup holders of various sizes, and...OMG! It drives itself while you nap! Blah? Certainly, blow blah?"

"No sir...I don't want a discount on a new Mazda that re-uses human skin from shitty mechanics for a better purpose. Although I like the idea. I'm making do with the one I have, that SHOULD last me another 5 or 10 years with QUALITY SERVICE. I'm not bitter, sir. I'm PISSED."

"Oh..blah. Fuckity. Can I offer you my pre-paid burial plot next to Brad Pitt's reserved spot?"

"That'll do, pig. That'll do."

We all have our breaking points. Ahem.