Love, Life and Losing a pet: Professor Chaos

UPDATE 10/1/2015


Last night we had to make the very hard decision to let Chaos go peacefully. I came home from work and it was very obvious that the disease had progressed extremely rapidly. The neurological signs were present. She wasn't in pain but she was not herself. Making that decision wasn't for us...it was for her. We were with her until the end. I will always love her.


Last night I had a dream that brought incredible comfort to me. I was there in the vet's office crying over her. She was ragged and thin. My dad appeared above me. He was the fat, happy Stan the Man dressed in his overalls with a red t-shirt. He had a toothpick in his mouth. He said, "Red...you know I don't usually do cats. But I'll take good care of her for ya."
He reached down and picked her up. As he did, she changed from the sickly kitty into the ferocious, bitchy Chaos who ruled our lives.
Then they were walking down the gravel road off at the house back home. Leroy and Jack were on his left jumping and prancing to his left and she was on his right just prancing. She looked back with that saucy grin. Her coat was thick and full. She was all filled out. Dad did the Stan wave and they went off.
My heart filled with joy and I slept. I'm still sad and lonely but I know he's got her.

Professor Chaos –

I am going to admit, first and foremost, that there is no way I’m going to get through writing this without a bare minimum of twelve tissues. I’ve been a crying wreck since yesterday. An absolute crying disaster because I do not cry prettily, I’m not a dainty sniffler. I’m not a dew eyed waif gently dabbing at the corner of her eye as she sighs. No, I’m a wracking sobber who blows out gobs of snot and has red eyes swollen shut. I blast my emotions on high volume normally and with grief I ratchet that bitch up to a 100.

Professor Chaos is dying. Okay you melodramatic asses, everyone is dying and we have been doing so since we first drew breath from our mother’s womb. I mean she is dying of a disease. She was diagnosed yesterday with Feline Infectious Peritonitis. It’s a coronary virus that is surprisingly common but is not commonly active. There are two forms, wet and dry. Wet has a shelf life of about 3-5 days when it becomes “active” because it involves an effusion of fluid in the abdomen and chest cavity. Essentially the cat cannot breathe and smothers.

In the dry form the cat has a host of other symptoms and will eventually develop the wet form or will develop neurologic problems. It can take time though. Once diagnosed, the disease may progress between weeks or it may take a year since the symptoms are quite vague. The waiting game is horrible.

I hate the waiting game. I hate that I love this cat so much. I hate that I have to be the one to force food down her every night and that she looks at me as the bad guy for forcing medicine into her. I don’t get to be the cuddle one. I have to clean her face up from the nutritional paste and try not to think about how much I’m going to miss her.

I want to delete every single picture of her and pretend that I hate her. I want to look at my bank account and get mad at all the vet bills and think about how expensive all these treatments and visits are and how it is impacting our lives. I want to hate her. I want her to turn up her nose at me and go to Dave for petting. I don’t want to see how cute she is and I don’t want to feel how much my heart breaks at the thought of her not being on my bed acting like a little Arctic Fox pounding at her toy moving under the covers.

I want to banish every bit of light that kitty ever brought to my life. I want to forget that she is my first kitten that I loved. I hate that she is ripping me apart. I hate that a 6lb kitten has taken my heart and that when she dies, that piece is going to be gone. I hate that. I want to hate her and I can’t and that sucks.

Is this like losing a loved one? No it is not. Losing a pet is incredibly different. It is a different kind of pain. I can see people around me today at work looking at me with this look on their faces. A look that says, “What’s the big deal? It’s just a cat.” No. She is not JUST a cat. She is MY cat. Some people can be pet owners and have a pet. I’m not a pet owner. She is my family, just a furrier member of my family, so yeah…it is a big deal to me.

Will I recover from this? Yes, because that is what we do with life. But I have a long road ahead with lots of sadness. This illness can be brutal. It can be quick or it can be lengthy. All I can do is pray that she never suffers and that I can make sure she is taken care of and pampered.

I wish I could hate her. It would make this easier. But I don’t. I love this little kitty. I love that she is bitchy. I love that she never wakes up pretty. I love that she looks ratchet quite often. I love her. When she is gone I will continue to love her. I don’t know if I’ll ever have another cat. I can’t think of that right now because all of my love is focused on her. So I’ll continue to feed her every night. I’ll wash her face like a momma cat and I’ll give her medicines and bundle her up. And I’ll pray for a miracle.

 

Respect! R-E-S-P-E-C-T

Respect

 

Hello there kats and kittens it is me, your brave and fearless leader back to let you know that I am alive and well. Well and alive. The birthday month has been progressing quite nicely…okay…so not as nicely as I wished but you can’t have it all.

Today’s topic is Respect. It is one you should know all about if you are above the collective age of 18. I tend to not concentrate much time beneath that age simply due to the fact that it isn’t a very common trait to possess. As you age, you should wear respect like a badge of honor every single day. First the deodorant goes on and then you layer on the respect.

Simple.

 

But wait…you knew it wasn’t going to be that easy, now didn’t you? Respect is a tricky little beast. You give respect but do you get it in return?

My parents, especially my father, really impressed upon me, and my sisters, the fundamental right of respect being given to elders. I still keep that mantra close to my heart. I am not the type of person who insists that respect be earned first. That is simply not how it is done. Nothing pisses me off more than to hear some worthless curmudgeon and slattern insist that: You want my respect…gotta earn it. And I cannot even go into the depths of irritation when I see a teenager actively disrespecting others.

Forget that jazz. That is NOT how it goes. It works on the same premise as a smile. Don’t see a smile on someone else’s face? Then give them yours.

See how easy that was. Yep easy as pie.

But wait… it really doesn’t end there. No, for the bargain price of a few more minutes of your time I am going to let you in on something I have recently learned!

You have to command respect. And you have to do it far more often of people who should readily give it to you but far too often do not. Your friends, and or family, can often be the ones that respect you the least.

I get that the world is crazy and our time is spread thin. We all suffer from time constraints in some way. But I had to recently learn, the very hard way, that I was not being respected. At all. And it was by someone who I loved dearly. I still love her but I had to walk away from a friendship more than a decade long. I couldn’t allow myself to be treated so badly. I was investing time in a friendship that was not being returned and to be honest…it hadn’t been returned, or returned well, in  several years.

But I didn’t respect myself enough to walk away. I kept allowing excuses like: “I’m such a horrible friend”, or the popular, “I suck” to reel me back. It. HURT.

It hurt a LOT. I would call and there would be no return call. (I can call my insurance company and at least they return a call. )

I would text. And it would go days before a response. I am bothered by the no return call but it isn’t as bad as the not replying to a text! Come on…wtf…a text can be read or sent any time of the day!

So I sat down with myself, talked to my sister and realized that respect was missing from my life. Sasha brought up the fact that I, generally, take quite a long time before someone runs out of chances with me. And she is right. I tend to give people I like quite a lot of leeway. But I’m too old to keep doing that. Some things have to be nipped and not receiving respect is the big one that I am no longer ignoring.

I was not being respected and I was not respecting myself enough to walk away.

And so, with a heavy heart and an equally heavy soul, I walked away. I didn’t try one final outreach. I didn’t try one final text. I didn’t try one final message. I just walked away.

 It was one of the hardest things I have ever done in my life. It hurt.

And then I realized things really hadn’t changed much because I had been disrespected for so long that the silence meant nothing. Somewhere along the line I had become a last resort of sorts. I was only needed on this person’s time and never on mine. I would get the call and/or text when she needed to talk about something. The only time I was outreached OTHER than that was if she thought there was something wrong in my life like marital problems etc.

Do you know what the real problem was? Respect.

Ask me if I miss her. Yes.

Ask me if I want things back like they were. NO! I can’t and I won’t.

The excuses and the passive aggressive statements? Nah…I’m good.

Let me give YOU some advice. Respect yourself. Respect others. Treat your friends like they matter.

If someone takes the time to call you then you should CALL THEM BACK.

Do not be a douche bag and do NOT ever use the excuse, “I’m a horrible friend/person” because you know what? If you do that then it is a self fulfilling prophecy.

The moral of this story is to wear respect each and every day. Remember that politeness, charm and respect are all wonderful accessories that make you stand out among the crowd. Wear them proudly!