Tag Archives: loss

Farewell Mrrrpp

Earlier, when I started this post, I had all sorts of snarky things in my head to say.  It was Wednesday, the world seemed to have gone mad yet again, and I was feeling …  well, like something was going to happen.

the Handsome Boy

the Handsome Boy

I don’t want to feel that way anymore.  I just want to go back to this morning.   It’s wasn’t a perfect morning.  Heck, it wasn’t even the best morning.  It had good bits though, and I want those back.

Most of all, this morning, Mr. Kitty hadn’t been injured.

He didn’t need an emergency trip to the vet.

Most of all, he didn’t need to be put to sleep because he’d suffered severe spinal nerve damage and had lost all sensation (and function) from about the middle of his back, down.

The vet wasn’t sure if it had been the result of a blood clot or an injury caused by a car or some other violence.  Because of the damaged nerves and his heart murmur, she didn’t see a good chance of recovery from surgery.  He couldn’t eat or drink…  he’d lost function effectively below the waist.  He could purr and cry softly at me.  He could panic a bit about the overly friendly pittie at the vet’s office (who stayed well away, but was close enough to smell and therefore was a possible threat).  He was still able to be comforted by a scritch behind the ears and be pissy and unsettled when the vet or her assistant touched him.

He was himself right up to the end.

Fluffle and Mr. Kitty

Fluffle and Mr. Kitty

But, for the record, there is little that feels as wrong as those last loving touches that you give your pet as the vets are giving them the sedative and the barbiturate shots.  I know he felt no pain, but I also know he was mostly gone by the time I was able to say good-bye.  I know that’s standard procedure, I know our vet and she is wonderful and wanted him to suffer as little as possible (despite the nerve damage, he was suffering because of lost function), but…  I wish I’d been able to be with him before the first shot a bit longer.  I know he knew I was there for a moment–he tried to fight the sedative pretty hard, constantly opening and closing his eyes, trying to focus on me a few times when I spoke to him, his ears flicked slightly.  But the drugs are meant to be strong, and he wasn’t going to fight his way through this.

Why is it the animals that cause us the most grief are the ones we become the most attached to?

I think that as Flufflepuff comes over and begs for hugs.  I think both he and JuJuBee are missing their window companion.

Au revoir, Monsieur

Au revoir, Monsieur

Now onto normal Wednesday affairs…

The WIPpet

No fancy WIPpet maths today.  Six sentences.  It’s your choice whether that’s for the 6th month or for the addition of the 1&5 of the date.  And yeah, I stepped back a few more pages yet again in the Unnamed Story.  At this rate…  I’ll be reposting stuff.

Can any of you guess who Alanii is speaking about?

Alanii snorted. “I’ve seen what his lovers look like, Atyriia. That man doesn’t know anything about seducing a woman gently. His wife had been an ale wench. She’d been the only woman to ever share his bed and not leave it covered in bruises. And only because she could pick him up and throw him out of the room if she needed.”

Enjoyed that  bit?  Well, then head over to the WIPpet linky and visit other WIPpeteers. A shout out and hugs to Emily Witt for hosting the hop these days.

The ROW80 Check-in

I don’t have much to say today.  Things are…  well, until today, things had been on track.  This is the only writing or writing related activity I’ve done today though.  Studying up on what drugs are actually used in euthanasia  for cats is the only reading I’ve done.  Hanging out on Facebook and trying to lose my head in other people’s lives is the only interaction I’ve achieved.

Mostly it has worked.  I wrote this post.  I had other plans to write about today.  Maybe Sunday…  Maybe I’ll post a Friday Photo on my other blog…  I don’t know.  It’s too far ahead to plan now.

Got Time For a Quickie?

ROW80LogocopyShort one today, all y’all.  The hubby and I have a lunch date with friends, insurance paperwork…yadda yadda. There’s all the time in the world it seems…

just after everything else is done first.

So here’s it all in a nutshell.

This has been an incredibly crazy, yet oddly productive week.  I’m on track with everything except my new “creativity goal”, but since the Boodle is home from school this week and there’s been a shift of focus there, I’m not too bothered.

IMG_4137_1What is bothering me is that nagging surety I’ve lost a friend.  Mr. Kitty, the last of our feral cats turned to cuddle-bum and window serenader,  hasn’t come home since Sunday.  Worse yet, since I’d been desperate to sleep in on Sunday for some huggy-dozing time with the Leader of the Opposition Party, it was the Boodle that fed Mr. Kitty, not me—I’m actually not sure he was here on Sunday at all.

All I can do is hope that if he was caught by someone (some group has taken up catching ferals nearby because we had had the male version of the feared cat lady down the road for years, and he finally lost his home and the cats have run rampant).  I really hope Mr. Kitty was trapped by such a group and not taken by coyotes (so far the nearby roads shows no sign of a kitty-corpse).  He’s lovable, affectionate, wants to have a forever home (which is something I could have never given him because of… things).

But this, and so much of this past year when I wasn’t blogging because life was cray-cray, is why I picked the title I did today.  Maybe it wouldn’t have helped if I had gotten up on Sunday—maybe he was gone already—but I wouldn’t have this regret that I ‘wasn’t there’ when I could have been.

IMG_3179It was the same when my grandfather died in December…  we hadn’t gone to see him because we’d been fighting cold and sickness after cold and sickness, and he had a very compromised immune system.

One of my best friends died in December…  we’d set plans for a lunch date in January ‘after the holiday crazy was done’.  It was a freak thing, but…  now I eat sushi and cry a little (kind of happy tears, because they are great memories, but still).

And my grandmother died a few weeks later.  I got to spend some time around Christmas with her, but then Rod’s death and disasters at the Boodle’s school…

It seemed like so much to take a day trip to Syracuse just for an hour or two of visiting.  Maybe next weekend I’d have ‘more time’…

No.  There was no more time.  There is no more time.

So, yesterday…  when I invited Elizabeth Anne Mitchell to sprint with me and she couldn’t because she had a meeting in ten minutes at work, I decided I was making a change for myself at the very least.  I texted her back “Quick, write two sentences!”

I mean, there’s always time for a Quickie….

Some Writing Because …

I missed my writing sample post on Tuesday

This sample is from a non-fan fiction piece of “exercise” writing.  I actually like the piece, but because the world I have created in what would be the “pre-history” of this story would never lead to this place as it is, the best thing I can call it is an Alternate Universe story set in my own story universe.  (And I bet you wondered where the “Many Worlds” came from.  😉  )  It’s a long piece, but I think you’ll have as much fun reading it as I had writing it.

Another 3AM transmission. If she’d felt awake enough, Atyr would have hurled something. Instead she rolled over  and grunted for the maid to let her sleep. She wasn’t in any mood to deal with Alanii and his problems tonight.

“It is urgent, Milady Sieress.”

“Of course it is,” she mumbled to her pillow.

“There is also a priority message from Hastor Valmara Masorii.”

That drew her from her recluse. ‘Mara was contacting her? That young man hadn’t spoken to her since his sister had died.

She scrambled from her tangle of blankets and threw on a robe against the night chill. “Patch Lord Masorii’s message to here, sersa.”  The sting of the cold floor against her feet just made her rush easier.

At the small desk by her window, she flicked the comm switch before she sat down. “‘Mara?”

Her son’s face, so much the hawk-like image of his father’s, came through the small viewer, tense and impatient. At her presence, his expression softened. Worry chased away that small easement.

“Milsha! Thank the Goddess! I was afraid you would not answer, knowing the Andar said he was also calling.”

“You’re not contacting me on his behalf,” she growled. “Are you?”

The young man’s expression was totally Valichii’s, proof that father made son on Acaria. “I wish that you never talked to that man, Mother. Still, in this case, he has honorable intentions.”

“So tell me. My bed awaits.”

Her son’s expression didn’t waver, though once such words would have fueled a rage that could be felt all these light-years away without dissipation. “You must come here.”

She felt her brows rise and scoffed. “Must? So your father and Alanii can both play gallant–“

“Unless you come soon, you’ll have no fear of that–not from Father. He is in his meditation.”

She felt her mouth open, started to protest, then, touching the screen, closed it again. The man in the viewer simply nodded.

She rushed from the room to arrange her transport without even bothering to dress. Continue reading