Three months later

Grief can hit you when you least expect it. Yesterday, I opened the first can of tuna we've had since we lost Fred. Fred LOVED tuna water. He knew that if you cut up onions, that tuna water MIGHT happen. So if he smelled onions, he'd be dancing around my feet in anticipation. It would break my heart when I was cutting them for some other purpose.

So yesterday, I cut onions. No boy. Today I opened a can of tun and drained the water down the sink. Man, that was hard.

It's been almost three months since I lost my tiny son and it hasn't gotten much easier. We will have new cats sometime this summer, but they won't be Fred or Chester and that's really hard to wrap my head around.

Lost in Grief

It's been seven weeks since I lost my cat, Fred. To me, he wasn't just a cat. He was my tiny son. My little Prince. Additionally, it's been five weeks since we lost Chester, Mr. L's feline son.

The truth is ... we were prepared to lose Chester. He was almost 20 years old. He had multiple health problems. Mr. L and I had learned to give him subcutaneous fluids back in July 2016 because he was suffering from kidney failure. He had other health problems that had us giving him pills five days a week, and cream in his ears almost every day for several months. But until a week before he had to make the terrible decision to euthanize him, Fred was okay. Yes, he had lost weight, but he didn't give us any real sign that he was in distress. He had apparently suffered in silence with the cancer that was rapidly growing within him.

We thought we were prepared to lose Chester. But to lose Fred was absolutely devastating. And then...12 days later, we lost Chester, and he did not have an easy time. We waited a day too long to take him to his last visit to the vet. On the morning of his last day, Chester had a violent seizure. Ive seen people have seizures but nothing like what our poor sweet boy endured. That was at 7:50 am. I called our vet at 8 when they opened, and they said to bring him in at 10:30. I wasn't sure he'd make it and I worried about him suffering. Five minutes later, they called to say, "Bring him in now," which we did.

Some might cynically say the vet only wanted to make the $50 charge to euthanize him, but I don't think so. We didn't want our boy to suffer .. and he certainly did.

Truly, we have been lost without our boys. And our quest to find new cats has not been easy. Honestly, no cats could ever "replace" our boys. We loved Fred for just over 13 of his 15 years, and Chester was two weeks short of his 20th birthday. But ... April isn't quite "kitten season," and the truth is, Mr. L and I want older kittens, not tiny babies.  Maybe we're just a little too old for that right now.

"You should adopt older cats!!!" we've been told sternly.

Okay, but we just LOST two older cats. We are not prepared to get attached to and then lose an older cat or two too soon. I feel terrible, but between losing my parents and three cats (we lost our beloved kitten, Betsy (aged 20) two years ago), I've had too many losses these past few years. I don't think my broken heart can take much more.

So, we're without cats making tracks on our freshly vacuumed carpet. We're without food and water bowls in our kitchen. We aren't maintaining multiple litter boxes and doling out treats ... not that we haven't scoured websites and Facebook pages looking for our next much-anticipated kittens. It seems our timing is just OFF.

We will have cats in our lives again.

It can't come soon enough.

It's Friday the 13th -- are you nervous?

Like the subject line says ... It's Friday the 13th. Are you nervous about it?  Are you a superstitious person?

I'm not. And the reason?  Black cats are supposed to be unlucky. I've had black cats for most of my life. My first came with a very silly name. I was six and I didn't know you were "allowed" to change the name of a cat. Poor cat was saddled with that name for twelve years. Since then, I've learned that as long as you feed a cat and call it by its new name, it will learn very quickly, "Hey, I'm not stupid name anymore, now I'm called Most Excellent Name!"

Well, here we are on Friday the 13th 2018 (first of two this year.  the other is in July) and I have no black cat. In fact, I don't have two black cats.  We lost both our boys last month (within 12 days of each other) and have been in mourning ever since. We know there is another black cat somewhere in our future, we just don't know when.

Walk under a ladder?  Well, I wouldn't do that just because it's unsafe.

Breaking a mirror?  That upsets me, because it can be terribly unsafe and I don't like getting cut, but I'm not worried about seven years of bad luck.

Opening an umbrella inside? Fahgettaboutit. Why worry?  In fact, it didn't faze me at all when I bought some "studio lights."  Love them!  Haven't used them much, but I have no problem opening the umbrellas that diffuse light.

Spilling salt? And then canceling out the bad luck by throwing it over your shoulder? No. First, I've already spilled the salt ... probably on the counter.  I'm not throwing it over my shoulder so that I have to clean off the counter AND sweep the floor.  Not gonna happen.

There is one thing that I am wary of ... and only because my mother would have a cow if anyone put shoes on a table. But in retrospect, for me it's more a matter of germs. Eeeek! I know where those shoes have been! Imagine the bacteria they've trudged through!!!

Is there something you're superstitious about?

Still Alive and Kicking

Sometimes you have to do things you don't want to do. Over the summer, I learned to stab my cat.

Actually, he's not at ALL my cat. Chester belongs to Mr. L and he suffers from kidney failure. He was going back and forth to the vet for a while and finally the vet (not OUR vet) said, in no uncertain terms, that if we didn't hospitalize Chester that he would die within a couple of days.

Why were we hesitant to board him?

Nine months before, we boarded Chester for 8 days when we took a trip. He needed to be medicated (for something entirely different) and my brother, who was taking care of the cats, wasn't up to that.  But every time Mr. L called to see how Chester was, he was inching closer to death. He wouldn't eat, he wouldn't drink. They were having to hydrate him every day. Finally, we called my brother and said, "Bring him him." He did, and Chester did a turnaround pretty darn quick. By the time we returned two days later, he was in the pink.

Fast forward nine months and Chester was going downhill. Mind you, he's 18.5 years old. We've never had a boy cat live that long. But he needed fluids every three days. For a while, we were taking him to the vet, but it got to be more and more inconvenient because they had to squeeze him in between appointments. And another thing, Chester does not travel well in the car. It was very upsetting for him to have to travel every three days to a place he despised.

So it was decided that Mr. L would learn to give Chester his fluids. We went to the vet, got our lesson in subcutaneous fluids, were handed a bag of lactated ringers and a bag of 18 gauge needles and sent home to do the deed. I was surprised that many of my readers/Facebook friends had also given their cats (and a couple of dogs) a new lease on life with fluids, and was grateful for their encouragement of "you can do this!"

For the first couple of times, Mr. L did the deed. But then no matter what we did, we were spraying ringers all around the kitchen, and Chester wasn't getting his fluids. That's when I took over. Some days it works well, and he doesn't flinch when I stab him, and some days it doesn't go well. The vet techs (and OUR vet) both assured us that they screw up on a regular basis, but not that we've ever seen.

We've been doing this for almost four months now and Chester is back to being his old self. He kills his Beanie Babies on a regular basis (distributing them around the house), he eats and drinks well, and he's usually on one of our laps at any given time of the day. (But mostly Mr. L's because ... you know, Chester owns Mr. L.)

To what lengths are you willing to go to keep a pet alive?