There has been a long gap in my thinking out loud into the vast space of the interwebs. I got tired of all the noise and will play catch up and explain in the days to come. But that noise…it got to me just like the constant nagging of my geriatric feline. I’m forced to shut her down in the basement about once a day to keep me from some uglier scenario. The vet always laughs when I complain about the vocal prowess of this animal. I’ve been tempted more than once to crate her up and ship her off to a long ago ex-boyfriend of Shop Girl. Back in the day they thought it’d be adorable to adopt a homeless mouser. He owes me 13 years of back child support.
Last month sometime, or was it a week ago, or mid-winter – I have no idea anymore…I thought Bitty Kitty had finally decided to sprout wings and leave us all behind. She had signed an advanced directive years ago so there will be no heroics in the last days. After spending a day hanging out in the nether regions of the Money Pit, I checked on her before bed and found her hunkered down on a cerulean blue down jacket of Billy’s. I know…don’t ask. (remember the 4Rs: Reduce, Recycle, Reuse, and the 2015 addition: REFUSE to take time to clean your basement or attic).
I slept somewhat fitfully that night imagining the scenario in the a.m. – contacting the vet to dignify the remains and all. Being a typical Spring in the Mitten State meant it was still pretty cold out so I figured I could use the garage as a temporary morgue if need be. I remember that the next day had some kind of busyness to it so I thought there would be a delay in the funeral arrangements.
Tentatively opening the basement door that next morning, I wondered if I’d be letting her soul fly out past me since the only other escape route would have been through the sewer via the basement floor drain. Imagine my surprise when that cranky, meowing, nagging, whining, and bitching sound connected with my ear drums.
When I shared the news with Shop Girl later in the day she quipped, “Your people refuse to die.” MY PEOPLE REFUSE TO DIE????!!!! There have been any number of mornings since the first of December when there is nothing but silence when I’m expecting creaking and complaining from the 110 year old floor boards of Ggma’s bedroom above my head as I’m perched on the couch in the living room having my first coffee exilir. When I just can’t take it anymore I’ll open the door to find her snoring loudly buried in two down comforters.
I can only hope that the end for both of them will find them nestled in feathers and sleeping. I don’t know what really awaits on either score. I’m not in charge. I’m just here to be the wind beneath their wings. Take it away Bette.
1eyedmonkee 
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