Caterwauling

Five days and four nights away from home = bliss.

Being home again = meh.

I left all my crap at Lady L’s. I meant to keep George at the office with me till lunchtime, then go clean really fast and then let him greet her.

But I was out walking him near the office circa lunchtime. I actually was near the Den of Iniquity with a steaming bag of dog poop, debating about what to do with said bag of poop plus some unresolved venom toward its majority owner and also the president of that joke of a lifetime. (Two different idiots, whom I differentiate by drug of choice.)

Anyway, I decided not to set it on fire and drop it off, since neither one actually shows up unless it’s to terrorize, belittle and otherwise offend the senses (in the olfactory sense) of the good employees. Besides, I like the restaurants downstairs and really don’t want the building to be (rightfully) condemned because of the physical AND mental health hazards upstairs.

So, I stopped to give a snowbird directions, and Lady L happened to pull up on the corner where we stood. George was so happy! I lifted him up to the window to see his momma, and he jumped for absolute joy. She picked up some sammiches and we ate in my office with our little furbag.

Today, I also had a guest in from Philly and another from Baltimore. Which meant there was Amarone and carbohydrates in it for me. And it was just a lovely day all around.

So being home sucks ass. Mostly because I just want to jump the fuck out of my skin and go to bed. But it’s good to be with my kitty again. I’ve missed her. I was going to let her keep the UEOEH company if she ever moved out. But that’s no fair to Kadie. She’s mine and I adore her. I just wish I still felt the same about her Grandma.

I do see a couple of pans of pasta in the fridge. Tiny pans — I didn’t give her THAT much money. But how fucked-up that she makes food and doesn’t eat a single bite of it. Freak.

Oh well. Gonna go play with my kitty. (Get yer mind outta the gutter.) I left my favorite vibrator in my suitcase, anyway, so Kadie’s the only cat in town tonight. Lucky her!

Apologies if you already saw it on Facebook, but I rather enjoyed this roundup of my top status updates for 2009.

Two days to go before this year gets hog-tied and roasted over an open pit with an apple in his mouth.

But wow, it’s amazing to measure just how much I saw/did/overcame/enjoyed. …

Not only hanging out with an old friend in this social oasis, but talking business and gossip with other industry folk? Lit my little fire last night.

I’m not claiming that I’m not a social retard (I am. I confess) but just being “out there” again is better than anything a doctor can prescribe.

Cheers to feeling more like myself than I have in a long time. Who needs artificial stimulation when it’s your mojo that went MIA?

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.

I always call my mother “Snow White,” as she always adopts the neighborhood strays and feeds them and gives as much love as she can to these feral animals.

Last night I was working in my apartment around 9 p.m. and she called to say there was a sick kitty down by our pool. (The pool I haven’t set foot near in the two months I’ve lived here due to lack of time.) I was like, mmhmm, OK. Fine. Whatever. Can I get back to work now?

She called back later to ask if I’d bring down some food. For once, I didn’t even argue, since I had been thinking about that kitty for an hour.

He was very sweet, very docile and very sick. Reminded me of Maddie in her final days. Very weak, very loving, very wobbly. I’d guess kidney failure for him, too. Gorgeous black cat with white paws and the sweetest face you can possibly imagine.

I held him for an hour or so before calling the county animal control. It took the guy another hour to get to me. I continued to try to get the kitty to eat and basically just tried to keep him warm with the towel I’d brought down to cloak his bony body.

It hurt to part with him — it was like handing Maddie over to the vet techs, all over again. I cried for a good hour. I’m still very sad now.

I always stop and wonder “why” — why did this cat cross our paths? Was this a chance for me to do something good or heroic or make up for Maddie’s miserable end?

I lined the kitty’s cage with my towel. I guess I just wanted him to remember that, as he was whisked away, he was loved … even if only for a few hours.

I asked if I could get an update on him and they said I could call the office today. The guy also said, “Well, we DO have plenty of OTHER pets waiting to be adopted.” *kick*

What I find funny is that it’s easier to find immediate shelter and care for a cat than it is for a human. Actually, it’s not funny. It pisses me off.

But I’m sure, like Maddie and my grandfather and my grandmother before that, the medical staff will give up on them before they even get there. Too old, too ragged, too sick.

And I feel bad, too. If I didn’t see a Maddie-sized vet bill for a cat I had just met, I probably would have taken him to the emergency vet myself.

I’m saying a prayer for my little four-pawed warrior and hoping that he’s comfortable. And I’m saying a prayer to thank God that I could fall in love so easily with another cat, so soon after losing my own. I never thought it would happen.

I didn’t dent any cars today, so that alone qualifies today as a victory.

I started a “gratitude journal” today. I figure, when I’m feeling cursed, it’s the ultimate irony.

My entries are heavily sarcastic, like “I haven’t totaled my car (yet)” and “My rap sheet is homicide-free (so far).”

Hey, those count as blessings!

I got an unexpected bit of hope today in an unexpected phone call. Nothing to hang my hat on, mind you, but a reminder that I was special once. And maybe that I still am, deep down in there somewhere.

Actually, I got another unexpected bit of hope. I was checking in on Lachlan’s blog (wow, between a quick phone call and blog-reading, I almost seem like I have free time!), and someone anonymously sent her mom a nice sum of money to pay her bills.

My comment, although misspelled (gah) was to thank this anonymous angel for giving me the faith in humanity I so desperately needed to hear about today.

Miracles really do happen. I was starting to not believe in them anymore. So, thank you, anonymous friend. I don’t even need to be the direct beneficiary of a miracle; being part of one or simply knowing that nice things DO happen to great people is just as good. 🙂

Licky licky

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

“I’m selfish and I’m sad
I’ve lost the best baby that I ever had.”

— Joni Mitchell, “River”

It’s been 12 hours since my baby died in my arms. I’ve never known grief like this.

Now that Maddie’s gone after 13 years as my best friend in the world, traveling companion and source of unconditional love, I feel like my heart went away.

Every time I’ve lost someone, there’s been other repercussions to worry about — mostly financial.

I think she’s the first I’ve ever really grieved. Not just first pet, although she is that, too. But I’ve lost so many people I’ve loved, and she’s the only one I didn’t necessarily *need* in my life, but 100% wanted.

Everyone may remember my stories of her crapping all over the planet. But other than that, I have nothing but praise for this beautiful Calico.

I could wax poetic about her a million times over. And probably will. But one story I want to tell is how I was leaving for work the other day, and I was in the doorway talking to my mom. Maddie left her spot on my bed in the next room, came up to me to rub against my legs and be petted, and went back to her perch.

She always waited for me to come home from jobs that suck all my daylight hours and then some out of me. Oftentimes, after a miserable day, I’d close my bedroom door to get a good, cat-free sleep. (It’s mostly her sister Kadie who gave me rough nights.)

Maddie always seemed to sense this, and most of the time, she’d sneak into my room between the time she greeted me and the time I closed the door. She was frail toward the end (which I either didn’t notice or refused to acknowledge), but she could run. Because she wasn’t going to miss a night of sleeping curled up at my side if she could help it,

Kadie tried to sleep in my bed last night. (I “slept” on Maddie’s slide.) My bed was always Maddie’s turf. Maddie would let Kadie eat first … let her have first crack at every new toy, litterbox, whatever. But sleeping at my side was the only thing she fought for.

Now, getting a good sleep is something I may never have again … at least, not for a long while. The house feels empty and everything else just feels so wrong.

I just never woke up knowing that yesterday would be her last day on earth … and that it would be the absolute worst day of my life, although today isn’t feeling any better, either.

Someone asked me recently whether I’d ever felt true love. I said no. I realize now that I lied. Maddie was the love of my life.

So, if you’re so inclined, please say a prayer for her and have a drink in her honor. And if you are enjoying a sunny day or even the rain (she loved both), wave to her up in that giant litterbox in the sky and tell God how lucky he is to have her back.

I never adequately thanked the person who gave her to me. She was just supposed to stay with me temporarily. But then I fell in love with her and there was no turning back. So, thank you for making sure my feline soulmate and I got a decade-plus together.

As for me, I learned long ago that we’re both in our sixth lives, if you believe in reincarnation. So I told her to wait for me because we have a million more adventures in store, next time around.

I just don’t know what to do without her in the meantime. She’s more like me than any human child could be. I fear, even if I do have the “real” kind, she’ll always be my favorite. God knows I’m done with the feline kind — I’ve already had the perfect pet.

Adding to the hurt is that I never got to take her to our new apartment. She would have loved it. If we weren’t in the late stages of Flea-a-palooza, I would have taken her for a visit. The bonus for me is that the place has linoleum floors — ideal for cats who miss the box by a room or two.

My plan was to give Kadie to Mom, and Maddie and I would finally, finally have our lives back. Just like old times, just the two of us. The way we loved it best.

While it’s been torturous for me to have Mom living here the past two years, she did nothing (literally) but love my cats. Always singing, dancing, talking, playing with them. Drove me nuts. I hated it.

But now that I realize just how alone I left Maddie to go sell my soul to pay the bills, I’m glad Mom was there to love her while I wasn’t around.

Thank you for loving me, Maddie. Gram and Grampy will take good care of you till I get there. …

I’ve been enjoying reading in the blogiverse about everyone’s holiday traditions, new and old, and I was wondering if it weren’t high time to establish some of my own.

Well, maybe next year.

I’ve spent the last few years extricating myself from anything that could be considered traditional in the expectational sense. Holidays growing up were always about big meals, family — OK, family TENSION AND DRAMA — one or two special presents instead of a bunch of crap because money was tight, and elaborate trees when my grandmother was alive.

After she was gone, it was still big meals but just for three people. (Those of us with Italian in our heritage just don’t know how to scale down recipes. You will have leftovers for months, so I only cook maybe twice a year for that very reason.) We had tiny trees in cramped living quarters. The tension and drama faded with the disappearance of the extended relatives.

At some point, I wanted my tradition to be “no traditions.” To blow into town if and when I felt like it. To go to P.F. Chang’s instead of having ham or turkey. To either see friends or hole up in my apartment with nothing but the Christmas tree and the cat to keep me company.

And now that I’m in the land of no obligations, commitments or maybe even ideas, I’m not necessarily a hypocrite enough to be envious of those who have traditions. But I do admit that I’d like to know what I’m doing next year because I’d know who I’m doing it with, even if I don’t know the exact when/where/what elements.

I love watching my friends develop their traditions. I used to always buy a blue spruce tree, usually from a little corner lot in Fox Chapel in Pittsburgh. It had to be about six feet. I didn’t have a car so it always meant bugging someone who did to help.

My lights always had to be blue and white — two strands of each. Actually the white were special because they were made of some crystal, prismatic-type plastic.

I have bought an ornament nearly every year, even though I have enough to decorate every tree at Pentagon City Mall. It always has to be crystal. I have tons of snowflakes and icicles and pendants to fill up the tree, so my annual purchases must complement the theme.

Yeah, I haven’t bought an ornament in a good three years. Because I haven’t bothered with a tree.

So the holidays just kind of come and go around here. This used to be my favorite time of year. When I first was on my own, I knew I didn’t have shit, but I always had a home and therefore I made it look like one. My apartment was where everyone liked to go to open gifts and have food before going out drinking. Now, I don’t let anyone in my ZIP code because my house just isn’t a home.

I’m lucky this year to be able to be a part of other people’s traditions. And in that, is tradition enough. Food, friends and a place you’re welcome to be. I mean, what more do you really need?

I guess what I’m hoping is to shed the inadvertent traditions of loneliness, frustration, apathy, death of the decorating gene, the empty fridge and full liquor cabinet, avoidance, guilt and absolute relief when Jan. 1 rolls around and people stop asking me what I’m doing for the holidays.

I think if the weather were better, then I’d be better. I never understood why folks flocked to Florida for the winter. As I de-pudgify (a process that’s slightly stalled right now as my body gets used to eating in non-Vegas-sized proportions), I realize something: I’M FREAKING COLD all the time.

I used to get mad at all these fragile flowers of women who were always shivering when it’s 90 degrees out. Dude, now that I’m minus a layer of blubber, I totally get it. *brrr* Kind of makes you NOT want to go out and do wintery events when you’re going to freeze your shrinking ASS off.

Well, since pudgy girls are more impulsive, I think what I need to do is leave the guilt over everything I can’t be (and frankly don’t CARE to be) at home and get my ass out and at least go look for an ornament for my collection. I don’t have room for a tree (in a 1,000-square-foot apartment. Ponder that for a minute) but maybe next year.

Actually, I’m so sick of my “maybe next year” mindset. Maybe I’ll be dating someone next year. Or maybe I’ll be dating someone who doesn’t live four hours away next year. Maybe I’ll have more money next year. Maybe I’ll have more space next year. Maybe I’ll look better in cute holiday attire next year. Maybe, maybe, maybe. *pfft*

Next year I WILL be dating someone special — SEVERAL of them! Who are local! (Most of ’em, anyway.) Next year my bank account will runneth over. Next year I’ll have plenty of space for a blue spruce tree of my very own. Next year I’ll host dinner for anyone who’s in town. And next year I will squeeze my ass into someone else’s skinny jeans, since I’m already in mine and I’ll be damned if that’s what I’m wearing at the end of 2009.

I hate to do another, “Next year things will be better,” but it sure beats how I went into this year, thinking, “Oh yay, more of the same. Can’t wait.”

So, while I am looking forward to spending this Christmas with the urban tribe as a part of their new tradition, and with my delightful patchwork of friends-turned-family at various other events in the interim, I am getting excited over the fact that Christmas 2009 will be the first of many that I can’t wait to experience on my own terms and, hopefully, on my own turf as well.

Illuminated Change, originally uploaded by Bayou & Lach.

Just made yet another donation to Barack Obama’s campaign. We can’t lose this election. I won’t stand for feeling like I didn’t do everything I could.

Anyway, yeah I know it’s the day after Halloween, but I saw this pumpkin in Bayou’s photostream on Flickr, and I fell in love with it.

I am not sure when I’m going to find time to vote on Tuesday, but I assure you, I will be one antsy bitch until I get to cast my ballot for the change we need. …

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