Sunday, September 12, 2010

Feeling a little adrift at the moment.

Yesterday passed in a kind of numb blur. I poked around on the internet and, next thing you know, it was getting on towards bedtime.

Bobbi had been napping because she had to go in to work for a bit after midnight, and she was getting up as I was going to bed. Seeing her putting coffee on threw me into the morning routine more or less on autopilot. I topped Rannie's bowl up with kibble, opened the cabinet where the canned geriatricat food was kept, pulled a can out, divided it onto two plates like I do every morning, and dissolved into tears when I realized what I'd done.

Every day for more than two years, while I've sat typing at this desk, I was always looking out the corner of my eye to see if a tiny, three-pound cat needed help getting in the litterbox. For two years I've kept an ear cocked for the sound that meant that Littlest Cat was ready to be lifted up to the desk now, please. What time I've spent writing was in the interstices between acting as home health care aide for an elderly cat, and I suddenly feel only half-employed.

I need to get out of the house for a bit.


John said...


The aching void left by the permanent absence of a beloved pet, the throat-cut pain, the tears, the adriftness of mind, are shared, Tam.

Such events are in some ways, more difficult than the passing of human relatives, especially in their time.

We cherish those four-foots for whom we have been caretakers, and mourning them is a measure of our own humanity, that we extend to them the fellowship of loss and rememberance.

Kitty and canine spirits are funny things. I'm no great believer in formal religious doin's, for myself. But there are some moments of seeming communication, from such recently passed companions, that don't fit in any rational box. And every one them I've rec'd was a message of comfort for the humans: "It's all right. I'm OK. I'm checking in on you."

That remembrance, now, brings those tears back, and that knot in my throat, but it also brings with it all those days of sunshine and companionship that we were lucky to share.

I'm no Pollyanna, and this effort reduced to to tears, again. But, Tam, those memories will become good ones, and you will laugh about the escapades and life shared with a memorable personality. Until those moments and days fully return, know that other folks do share y'r grief. Give it the honor and time that it deserves.

Brad K. said...


The care provided achieved it's goal. Geriatricat was more comfortable for your care, you didn't fail yourself or the feline either.

Take care of yourself.

Blessed be.

Farm.Dad said...

Tam , I left condolences on the roomies blog .Ill say here that many of us know firsthand what a huge hole the loss of the annoying little critters leaves in life and i dont have any answer for the ache other than time .

McVee said...

Grieve not,
nor speak of me with tears,
but laugh and talk of me
as if I were beside you...
I loved you so ------
'twas Heaven here with you.

Isla Paschal Richardson

EgregiousCharles said...

I'm so sorry. I lost one of my dogs last November. It really tears you up.

John B said...

I'm crying for you, with you.
Loss not only hurts in and of itself.
It freshens all the previous losses.
I'd try and ease your pain with all the empty platitudes. I respect both of you too much for that.

You do know half the internet is weeping with you!

Anonymous said...

Get a kitten. There's bunches available for not much money.

Al T.

Nathan said...

Sorry Tam :(

JPG said...

Deepest sympathies to you all - - Bobbi, you, and surviving feline.

I dread the day my Yeller Lab, Ben, must depart. I've come to love him 'way too much.

Anonymous said...

A pet is true love in its simplest form. I am very sorry for your loss. But time will heal all and all the fond memories will come more than the sad ones.


Anonymous said...


I've been reading your blog for a few months now. While I may not always agree with your stance on the issues you comment about, I can completely identify with your current feelings of grief.

I'm sorry for your loss.

roland said...

I'm right there with you, lost the Chloelab two weeks ago. After 14 years. It's about 50-50 as to whether or not I'll lose my shit when I walk in the door after work, somehow expecting her to be there. Choking up now.
I'm very, very sorry for your loss.

Don Meaker said...

They leave such a hole when they go on because they give so much love while they visit. The best argument for pets going to heaven that I have heard is that it wouldn't be heaven without pets.

Scott said...

My wife and I lost one of our dogs last year and some days I still see her sunning herself out of the corner of my eye. I'm dreading the next couple years because the others are up there in years too and I hate crying.

Six said...

Been going through that with trooper. You get so attuned to watching and listening. It's near impossible to just turn off.
I wish I could say it passes quickly. Lu and I had to get away from the house and head to Utah for a while. Be patient and let the tears come.
We'll be keeping you and Roberta in our thoughts.

Anonymous said...


Know how it feels. On August 26th, 2008, I came downstairs to pull up the blinds in the dining room to make a sunspot on the carpet for kitty.

There was no kitty.

It was hard to type through the tears.

Condolences for your loss.


mc said...

The kitty was lucky to have you.

Anonymous said...

Time will help the wound to scab over, but it never really heals...until we meet again on the other side.

Ulises from CA

Steve said...

My condolences Tam.

Anonymous said...

Wife and I have had and lost several cats over the years(I'm talkin' forty years here. The interesting thing that has occured over the same time is that when it was time for us to have another cat, one would wonder into the yard again and settle down with its new staff... May you be as lucky.