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Dec. 11th, 2007 01:12 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
altarflameMy Dad called me on Saturday to say that his long-time girlfriend (like 15 years, off and on, and they co-raise her grandchild) was in the hospital, here. She'd been transported by ambulance from Big Pine Key after she started having chest pains. It's been really intense for her...she has known she has things wrong with her for a long time, as well as leaving a shunt installed in her heart that was only meant to be there for 6 weeks of chemo when she had breast cancer. She didn't ever want to go back to the doctor again, she said, and, well, *15 years passed*. Long story short, she has emphysema, pancreitis and the shunt BROKE OFF (!!) so they had to do surgery to get "some" of it out...she seems like she'll be ok now, though my dad has been a bit of a mess about all different angles of what's going on...we're not really close; I haven't talked with her much for a couple of years, but she was there alone with nobody to go see her and terrified of heart surgery. So I went yesterday, to see her, with a magazine and some flowers, and mostly Elise - she was almost awestruck by meeting what she called "the miracle baby". She said she has a whole church down there (I didn't even know Madie WENT to church) that asks about her every week, and has been praying for her since she was born. She's printed out pictures I post to take them! Who knew? And it makes me wonder how many others are doing those things without me knowing. And it makes me squeeze Elise and smile and think she has the perfect name.
I was walking through there feeling heavy, and telling Elise, "This is the FIFTH hospital I've been in this year!" (Brigham and Women's, Newton-Wellesley, Miami Children's, Homestead Hospital and now Baptist). I'd been talking with my dad about what would happen to the co-raised grandchild if Madie died - my dad drives a cab graveyard shift and is no blood or legal relation to the little girl. It's one of the things about the whole deal that upset him most. And...again...WHAT THE HELL. When did mortality become so constantly palpable? This time last year I knew death was out there, intellectually, but it still felt hypothetical. Not now. Tenuous. Everything now is tenuous, for me.
It was a good visit. Came home, Shaun came over, we saw the video with A & A in it for the first time (!! in a different way than last time). Had dinner, got kids in bed, and Grant and I started watching The Office.
Then we heard all this dog commotion right outside, crazy barking hoohaw, and Grant ran out - three dogs ran away, leaving my cat laying on his side, covered in dog spit and foam, panting and staring and obviously in shock. I brought him in, in disbelief - my cat is EXTREMELY rough and feisty and has fought with tons of animals over the years. He is a bird killing, rat catching, hide in the bushes and then pounce sort of cat that usually chases dogs away.
He wasn't moving once, very limp, and just SOAKED - but not bleeding anywhere I could see, or cut, or with anything seeming broken. I called the vet (it was very late, but they have an answering service) and she told me about shock, watch him, keep water available, see if he seems better in 30 minutes, if not maybe come tonight otherwise, the office opens at 8:30 to get him checked out...
He died. My cat died. MY CAT. I cried a little, but mostly felt disbelief as we woke Ananda and Aaron to say goodbye before Grant buried him. And anger, like...WHAT THE HELL IS UP WITH THIS DAMNED YEAR?!?!
Monday, though, I was heavy and sad all day. Part of it is still lack of sleep, as Saturday night was supposed to be the night I finally slept, with the stomach virus passed over (and thank God nobody else seems to have gotten it since Bob, Grant and Ananda got better). But I had him for 11 years. Longer that I've had almost anything.
Sebastion slept with me in my bed every night, and was my friend in my bedroom just the two of us, when I was a teenager living with my grandparents and heartbroken that my mom had moved away. He was like no other cat - he opened doors with easy knobs by jumping and grabbing. He was a mancoon, so always somewhat viscious and ready to bite if messed with - but he never, ever bit a baby or a toddler no matter how much they pulled his hair or sat on him. He's moved to Jacksonville and back with me. I haven't had the time for him that I used to, over the past couple of years, but he has still been an intrinsic part of the family and household. We had to call home to see how he was frequently, from Boston, for Aaron to be able to go to sleep at night. Whenever I got really overwhelmed and went out to lay on the sidewalk and look at the stars, he would come over and lay down with his head touching mine. And he has always been right there, when we're outside having tea or just playing in the yard. He didn't use a litter box, he just went to the door when he wanted to be let out and meowed to get back in. He rarely if ever left our front and back yards. And he was big enough that he'd hook his paws around the back of my shoulders and I'd HUG him, and he was bigger than Elise is right now.
Damn it all, I know he was 11, but I thought it would be a lot longer. And Aaron and he had this special thing - they would take naps together on the floor when Aaron was younger, and Aaron has had the job of feeding him every morning for a year or more now.
I don't even like cats. I just liked this cat. This cat that someone in the vet's office waiting room once offered me $400 for. He was over the top (17 pounds and not fat, plus long hair) and I liked that. My sensational cat that used to be infamous for having jumped into a dog fight and emerging victorious. But that was 6 or so years ago, when he slipped out past my feet as an indoor and litter using cat - this is different. We're on a one block long street in a suburban neighborhood where we know everybody. Grant said he didn't even recognize any of the dogs and he went looking for them to call animal control, but they were just gone.
I called my mother and she said, "I thought he would live forever." Laura said, "Tina, I know this sounds like I'm joking, but really - I think he would have wanted to die fighting three dogs."
Apparently so, since he couldn't do what normal cats do and RUN UP A TREE or jump the fence to hide in the backyard like he does whenever he feels like it. Felt like it.
BAH. Someone should have told him, "You are 11 years old and need to start minding your Ps and Qs".
I didn't take a lot of pictures of him, but this is a shot of him and Ananda (so over 7 years old) that I scanned in.
I miss him a lot. I wish I could just hurry up and get past this phase where you constantly re-remember that something is gone or think or ways it could hav been different, and just get used to it.
I was walking through there feeling heavy, and telling Elise, "This is the FIFTH hospital I've been in this year!" (Brigham and Women's, Newton-Wellesley, Miami Children's, Homestead Hospital and now Baptist). I'd been talking with my dad about what would happen to the co-raised grandchild if Madie died - my dad drives a cab graveyard shift and is no blood or legal relation to the little girl. It's one of the things about the whole deal that upset him most. And...again...WHAT THE HELL. When did mortality become so constantly palpable? This time last year I knew death was out there, intellectually, but it still felt hypothetical. Not now. Tenuous. Everything now is tenuous, for me.
It was a good visit. Came home, Shaun came over, we saw the video with A & A in it for the first time (!! in a different way than last time). Had dinner, got kids in bed, and Grant and I started watching The Office.
Then we heard all this dog commotion right outside, crazy barking hoohaw, and Grant ran out - three dogs ran away, leaving my cat laying on his side, covered in dog spit and foam, panting and staring and obviously in shock. I brought him in, in disbelief - my cat is EXTREMELY rough and feisty and has fought with tons of animals over the years. He is a bird killing, rat catching, hide in the bushes and then pounce sort of cat that usually chases dogs away.
He wasn't moving once, very limp, and just SOAKED - but not bleeding anywhere I could see, or cut, or with anything seeming broken. I called the vet (it was very late, but they have an answering service) and she told me about shock, watch him, keep water available, see if he seems better in 30 minutes, if not maybe come tonight otherwise, the office opens at 8:30 to get him checked out...
He died. My cat died. MY CAT. I cried a little, but mostly felt disbelief as we woke Ananda and Aaron to say goodbye before Grant buried him. And anger, like...WHAT THE HELL IS UP WITH THIS DAMNED YEAR?!?!
Monday, though, I was heavy and sad all day. Part of it is still lack of sleep, as Saturday night was supposed to be the night I finally slept, with the stomach virus passed over (and thank God nobody else seems to have gotten it since Bob, Grant and Ananda got better). But I had him for 11 years. Longer that I've had almost anything.
Sebastion slept with me in my bed every night, and was my friend in my bedroom just the two of us, when I was a teenager living with my grandparents and heartbroken that my mom had moved away. He was like no other cat - he opened doors with easy knobs by jumping and grabbing. He was a mancoon, so always somewhat viscious and ready to bite if messed with - but he never, ever bit a baby or a toddler no matter how much they pulled his hair or sat on him. He's moved to Jacksonville and back with me. I haven't had the time for him that I used to, over the past couple of years, but he has still been an intrinsic part of the family and household. We had to call home to see how he was frequently, from Boston, for Aaron to be able to go to sleep at night. Whenever I got really overwhelmed and went out to lay on the sidewalk and look at the stars, he would come over and lay down with his head touching mine. And he has always been right there, when we're outside having tea or just playing in the yard. He didn't use a litter box, he just went to the door when he wanted to be let out and meowed to get back in. He rarely if ever left our front and back yards. And he was big enough that he'd hook his paws around the back of my shoulders and I'd HUG him, and he was bigger than Elise is right now.
Damn it all, I know he was 11, but I thought it would be a lot longer. And Aaron and he had this special thing - they would take naps together on the floor when Aaron was younger, and Aaron has had the job of feeding him every morning for a year or more now.
I don't even like cats. I just liked this cat. This cat that someone in the vet's office waiting room once offered me $400 for. He was over the top (17 pounds and not fat, plus long hair) and I liked that. My sensational cat that used to be infamous for having jumped into a dog fight and emerging victorious. But that was 6 or so years ago, when he slipped out past my feet as an indoor and litter using cat - this is different. We're on a one block long street in a suburban neighborhood where we know everybody. Grant said he didn't even recognize any of the dogs and he went looking for them to call animal control, but they were just gone.
I called my mother and she said, "I thought he would live forever." Laura said, "Tina, I know this sounds like I'm joking, but really - I think he would have wanted to die fighting three dogs."
Apparently so, since he couldn't do what normal cats do and RUN UP A TREE or jump the fence to hide in the backyard like he does whenever he feels like it. Felt like it.
BAH. Someone should have told him, "You are 11 years old and need to start minding your Ps and Qs".
I didn't take a lot of pictures of him, but this is a shot of him and Ananda (so over 7 years old) that I scanned in.
I miss him a lot. I wish I could just hurry up and get past this phase where you constantly re-remember that something is gone or think or ways it could hav been different, and just get used to it.
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no subject
Date: 2007-12-11 06:44 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-12-11 06:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-12-11 07:15 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-12-11 07:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-12-11 08:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-12-11 09:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-12-11 09:08 pm (UTC)but damn! what a gorgeous cat he was!!!!
i'm sorry, hon.
no subject
Date: 2007-12-11 09:52 pm (UTC)A few people have commented to me that 2007 was especially death-heavy for them. Strange.
no subject
Date: 2007-12-11 09:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-12-11 11:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-12-12 12:05 am (UTC)poor kitty... i hope there is a kitty heaven. seriously.
no subject
Date: 2007-12-12 02:02 am (UTC)I'm so sorry.
RIP Sebastian.
no subject
Date: 2007-12-12 02:30 am (UTC)Your father and his girlfriend will be in my prayers.
I'm so sorry. :(
no subject
Date: 2007-12-12 02:47 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-12-12 03:02 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-12-12 03:13 am (UTC)OT- Ananda looks so serious. All M's baby pics are serious but I don't see many babies that look as intense as he did. It's way cool :)
no subject
Date: 2007-12-12 04:59 pm (UTC)Please say hello to Mr. French and Caesar in kitty heaven. Tell them that we love them and miss them terribly. The night-time kitty stampedes have given way to peace, quiet, and emptiness since they left. Let them know that I still have some of their fur and the anchovy-scented (stinky) ferret that Mr. French loved so much, to remind me of how blessed I was to be owned by them for 16 and 13 years.
Love,
Kiki
no subject
Date: 2007-12-12 05:31 pm (UTC)Only 19 days until this year is over. I hope 2008 treats you & your family better.
no subject
Date: 2007-12-12 11:56 pm (UTC)what a fantastic cat he was.