Word has got through to Headquarters at M.E. Central, and the powers that be have been alerted: I have been Doing Too Much. This comes with penalties, as any M.E. fule kno. But it was festival time on the Edge and much to see and be involved with. I didn't sleep much. Why would I? It's in the small print (Headquarters again) - if you go ahead and do things don't expect to sleep. Sleep comes after, the long, heavy kind.
But I am still better than I was heretofore, the betterness having begun several weeks ago for no discernible reason and it is not a particularly trustworthy state, relying to some extent on being a little excarnated or in the air, like Mickey Mouse strutting off the edge of a cliff, and it's ok to keep on walking as long as you don't look down. I probably shouldn't say the B word at all. Headquarters doesn't like it.
And there are Things on my mind. Does it get longer, I wonder, as one clocks up the years, the litany of Things? Probably not, but one is less easily distracted. One of the Things is Cat of Signs, whose over-active thyroid is becoming increasingly manifest. Her once beautiful coat is thin and scraggy, as she herself is. Having been a dainty picker before, she now eats like a horse but grows leaner by the day. Sometimes she goes outside and lies stretched on the wooden patio table, but mostly she has taken up residence on the kitchen table and won't go upstairs any more. We are treating her homeopathically (as per Vet's prescriptions) in the hope that her condition can be, if not cured, managed. Other options are: feeding her pills twice a day (impossible, she won't), surgery (too old) or radioactive iodine. This last offers the chance of a good outcome but is hideously expensive and, disorganised hippies that we are, we never did organise pet insurance.
So what to do? Though not exactly loaded, we could raise the money. But spending nearly two grand on our sixteen-year-old cat seems inappropriate.
We love her, though, and in her animal heart there is love for us too. I have never loved an animal before and it is a significant love because it has opened my eyes and changed me and my relationship to all animals.
She stands four-legged by the window
looking at the moon. Her heart is full
and empty, she cries like a human
10 comments:
Hei my dear you.
Loving an animal is a very true kind of love indeed. Sometimes I think our ability to bond across species-boundaries is one of the greatest saving graces of mankind - proof of our ability for love.
I don't know.
What I really came here to say was to make a sympathetic noise of some sort - anywhichway it goes with the beautiful CoS now, their spans are simply shorter than ours. Maybe it is better that way round too - it is very hard, probably impossible in fact, for animals to understand their loss, the never-coming-back of the person they loved.
Someone I know had to put down their beloved dog companion of fifteen years last year. What he says is he thinks about her now, and just tries to hold on to the feeling of gratitude of having known her; of how having known and loved her has made him a better person. I like that description.
A hug from me here to you there, my dear Signsy Schwesterlein.
x
Kiitos, Seesko - it is a pure kind of love and restores something to us, of innocence, I think. It makes the heart bigger, and that is always a good thing. And we are mortal, all of us (and some, says C of S sans miaow, are more mortal than others).
I hope she will stay with us for longer - few years more (you listening, gawd?)
x
Poor pudtat. Our cat had same trouble at end (she was 16 too). It was a long drawn out end and sad to watch (dog is now going same way) . Not sure insurance is always way to go..just cancelled dogs as costing a fortune and getting a pittance back after treatment(s).
Personally, as long as puss is not in pain/distress I would just let things take their course and be gentle and love her back.
Nasty nasty bastard illness ! One shood always do as likkle as poss. Molesworth (as enny fule know). Rest on yer laurels dear and let Fotherington Thomas do more....or one of the lesser bods like Smythe-Sandringham Minor. Matron might also have some meddisin or oinkment :O)
all i can add to those fulsome comments is oh yes, I know about watching loved cats decline and it hurts the heart. sort of agree with Cusp really about letting be. hard though. the pain of losing loved cat K still stings to think of. I was undone for days. and it is a gift, that love. (so I added quite a lot in the end)
Cusp and Fire Bird, thank you - cat-lovers both I see, so you understand how it is. And actually I am grateful that (at time of speaking), although not at ease,she does not seem to be in actual pain.
Mr. S just gone out to get conventional meds - see if we can "persuade" the dear to swallow it.
Re. meds and getting them down : scrambled egg ? fish paste ? syringe ? cods roe ? We used to use all those. In fact with another puss I used to sit and feed him scrambled egg on my fingers...Soft !? Moi ???
How VERY dare you :O)
That it exquisitely poignant.
All your sorrows are an Iliad of grief, and even I find no smart things to say... Nestor the old of sandy Pylos.
We stand by our hollow ships and remember the years gone by since we have signed on together for our long Odyssey.
Cusp - med hidden in tuna chunk - success! (apart from the fact that she isn't supposed to have fish)
Montag, Iliad of grief is rather a lovely phrase, and suddenly I think: can my common-and-garden kind of melancholy musing live up to that? Anyway, Cat of Signs still with us. And there is something mercifully straightforward about the decline/demise of a loved animal.
Nice to see you, Montag - here and there:)
Oh I'm sorry to hear that your kitty is ill. My first cat lived to be twenty and only died after being accidentally run over. She was a sweet beast.
Glad to have found you, your writing is lyrical and insightful.
Hugs
Amara
Thank you, Marzi (Amara) :)
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