Caterwauling

Pork Parfait!

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

So, OK, I heard a disturbing fact recently that Florida is the second-highest state when it comes to having human trafficking.

If that isn’t bad enough, I’m pretty sure we’ve got the worst children and families system in the country as well, as it always seems like it is Florida where kids go missing the most.

I say all of this not to take away from the deliciousness of my Pork Parfait dinner at the South Florida Fair tonight (dear God, it’s beautiful, although I *almost* got the donut burger instead, but this seemed healthier). But instead, to say that something slightly bizarre happened at the fair out in Royal Palm.

So, this event is huge — probably 129 acres of food booths and one acre of animals and rides. And of course, children will wander away from their parents. (Read: their parents are too pre-occupied with the food booths to notice that their kids wander away.)

A series of announcements came out over the loudspeaker, as children were found with no parents around for miles. First it was Kid 1. Then another was found and it was Kid 1 and Kid 2. Then ANOTHER kid was found, so the parents of Kids 1, 2 and 3 were commanded to come get their kids.

About 10 minutes later, a VERY frantic announcement comes out:

“The woman who took Kids 1 and 2, PLEASE RETURN THEM IMMEDIATELY. All of the parents have shown up and want their children.”

*thunk*

There were no announcements after that.

But holy shit, people can just walk off with two kids if they feel like it?

I don’t mean to imply that the culprit was taking them for trafficking purposes or kidnapping them away from their crazy family. (I sure as hell hope not.)

But I admit, I am NOT going to sleep well tonight, wondering what happened to those two little girls and whether they were reunited with the right families. I pray that it was their real mother who got them the first time around and hopefully they were spared from any harm.

And if I ever have kids before my eggs pass their expiration date, I’m going to lock them in the house till they’re 30. Or at least 18, since I’ll probably be 70 by then and I won’t be able to chase them.

RIP, sweet little warrior

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

God never closes a door without leaving me wanting to jump out a window.

Isn’t that how the saying goes?

So, about that amazing little cat I met last night. … I called those evil bastards at Animal “Care” and Control this morning, after a colleague and I looked for him on their Web site. When he wasn’t there, I should have been prepared for that call.

They could verify what he looked like, who took him there, what time he got there, and that’s about it. They euthanized him last night.

I of course was not happy. There was supposed to be a note on my file that I’d be calling. I wanted this cat. Of course, calling Animal Control to take him wasn’t the smartest thing in that case, but you know, I didn’t have any better ideas at the time.

I pleaded with the “officer” (WTF is up with all these 21-year-olds calling themselves “officer”?) to tell me what tests they ran, what they did to help him. Did they give him fluids? Anything that resembled a test or a workup?

Nope.

I know he was sick. I wouldn’t have been able to keep him or care for him. Like the “officer” last night, this one noted how dirty he was. Like one of God’s creatures being dirty and in need of help automatically disqualifies them from getting it.

I’m very sad right now. Anger is bubbling up, too. Mostly at myself because I know better than to trust medical personnel of any kind.

I was driving home tonight, sobbing of course, and luckily not hitting anyone or anything. And I remembered how I was struggling to conjure up his name, like a cat whisperer or something.

It occurred to me tonight that he might never have had a name.

It also occurred to me that my photos might have been the only ones ever taken of him.

And that my mom and I were possibly the only ones to ever hug him and love him.

I thank all my friends who were praying for him last night. We were probably the only ones who ever loved and rooted for this wonderful little guy.

Mom called me this morning to say she had come up with his name.

“Lucky,” she said.

“Lucky?” I asked, thinking that cat had anything BUT luck, and this was before we knew the fuckers at the shelter eradicated his existence with nary an examination.

“He’s lucky that he found you,” she said.

I wouldn’t go that far. God knows I’m cursing my luck more than usual tonight.

But I’m lucky I got to meet him, and give him the love that he’d probably never known.

I’m the lucky one, indeed.

Goodbye, little guy. Tell Maddie that her Mommy misses her more than ever right now. And I hope to meet you both when I get to where you are.

Deep as a Petrie dish, but still.

I had a dream the other night in which I put a Post-It Note on my calendar with a profound little quote, which was:

“Your vision is your value; everything else is secondary to your ideas.”

For the record, that note is now on my calendar.

This probably stemmed from remembering a conversation from before I started my new job, in which they saw me coming in as a “thought leader.” And I’ve been feeling like I’ve been doing anything BUT living up to that expectation … as it was equally MY expectation.

But alas, the hamster wheel starts to roll and you just jump in because that’s what you’ve always done. And it’s hard to generate ideas when your head’s full of everything else.

I got a good piece of advice the other day, to always make sure I’m ahead of the game — that I’m not always playing catch-up so I can have time to brainstorm and/or handle the unexpected crises. I realized this advice was hardly news to me — I always strive to be a step or two ahead. But it’s just impossible sometimes, and any new crisis just bumps the already past-due stuff, even-more past-due.

Anyway, I didn’t jump in here to kvetch. Things are going OK. I’m stressed out about everything but I’m also so brokenhearted that I can’t muster up the inclination to worry too much. Just like I have faith that Maddie reached her rainbow bridge and we’ll see each other again soon enough, I have to believe everything else will work out the way it should, as well … especially since it all seems so unimportant in comparison to everything else.

Another “deep thought” came to me as I was watching my church’s online services on Sunday morning. The pastor had everyone snap their fingers and reminded us that this is how quickly God can turn things around for us. Just in a snap. Just a heartbeat. Just an instant.

I’ve been snapping my fingers in hopes Mom will get a JOB in an instant, just because it is my greatest dream.

Sad how small my dreams have become.

And if my vision truly IS my value, and all I care about is putting my left foot in front of my right, lather/rinse/repeat, then what world-changing events am I capable of that will never come to fruition as my big dreams lie dormant?

Six days without my Maddie and an ocean of tears later, I just wanted to send a little prayer out there for another “gone too soon” friend, as Leanne left us a year ago.

I made this whole Florida move in her honor. No, I’m not blaming her for it. But I was looking to celebrate life the way she did every day.

We weren’t close (yet) but we had literally just become instant friends. But instead of seeing her again at one of Tom and Tiff’s kickass barbecues, we convened at Iota to have a memorial service. *sigh*

I remember that her death had an instant impact on me; that I found this sudden compulsion to tell (name removed) that I was blindly, stupidly, head-over-heels hot for him. And now a year later, the sentiment seems so strange and far away. I miss him. A LOT. But maybe my heart has been so trampled in the last 365 days, it forgot how to love another human.

What most don’t know is that the dent on my passenger’s side of the car is what reminds me every day of Leanne. In the parking garage in Clarendon, as I tried to get my car into a spot so I could go to her memorial, I guess my mind wandered and I sideswiped a pole.

I never got it fixed.

I had another dent on the driver’s side (same thing: D.C. too-narrow parking garage hell), so I had a reason to get both fixed. But yet, every time I look at my passenger-side door, I smile and remember the vivacious girl who loved human and animals and even adopted the latter despite being allergic.

And today, I hope she and Maddie cross paths so she can give Maddie all the hugs I wish I could.

Missing both of you girls. …

IMG_2170

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

It’s been hell at Casa Caterwauling the past week or so. A mad flea infestation has made the cats miserable and their owner sad and exhausted.

I brought in the exterminators yesterday, which meant taking the cats for their billionth car ride this week. I was barely at work this week, which means I will be working fiendishly this weekend just to catch up. I’m behind no matter what I do and I admit the pile o’ tasks that are ahead (and the deadlines that I know I can’t meet) are daunting.

Can’t win for losing here these days.

Maddie hasn’t eaten in a week. Kadie went on a bit of a hunger strike, too, but she eats enough now to make me happy. Her appetite will return in time.

I trace it back to last Saturday when I flea-bathed them, flea-bombed the house and then took them to PetSmart for Advantage. It was once I rubbed that crap on them that their appetites disappeared.

Now that she’s been shaved and we see how tiny she is, the vet is of course looking at me like I’m a moron that I let her get so skinny and frail. Well, shit. She was always in good spirits, always had an appetite. Now she’s frail and shaky and God, she stares at herself in the bathroom mirror and your heart just breaks. And just two weeks ago, she was playful and social and hungry.

So, if you’re so inclined, say a little prayer for Maddie while we wait for her test results to come back on Monday. I just want her to eat something. Once she gets some food in her belly (other than the NutraCal and Pedialyte that I keep forcing on her), I’ll be more inclined to believe she’ll be OK.

As I’m now paying three rents, I’m wondering WTF I’m doing. I mean, really. Comma after comma after comma. My savings is shot and it’s only the first month!

I keep telling myself it’ll get better. But then that nasty little voice in the back of my head that pops up at times like these likes to inquire why I think I’m entitled to good things and a good life and makes me second-guess myself.

Of course, I tell that voice to go back to the hell from which it came.

But it does make you wonder why, just when you’ve gotten your master plan for happiness in motion, the world manages to throw every possible obstacle in your path.

I was just musing how I never wanted kids or a family or anything like that, and I’ve unwittingly found myself as the sole supporter of a family of four.

If I can just get through this hell period, I’ll be fine. I just don’t have the mental reserves to spare so I hope they regenerate soon.

I just hope that whatever is wrong with Maddie can be fixed, and hopefully inexpensively. I would never have agreed to rent-a-palooza had I known she was so sick. I can take a lot of crap in my life, and HAVE, but I love this cat more than myself and if we can’t make her better, chances are we can’t fully make ME better, either.