Sitting In the Storm

It is hard to see the rainbow when you are sitting in the storm. It has been a tough, painful, couple of years at my house, for many reasons. The main one for me is that my “cougar” some days, my “nemesis” other days, but every night my warm pillow, the KittyKaty, passed away in May 2013.  One thing we can all say, she was a fighter!  She had a stroke, and fought valiantly to recover. Unfortunately, a second small stroke left her practically blind. “The woman” would ring a bell and I would lead the KittyKaty to the kitchen at meal times.  I would lead her up the stairs to the big bed (where we usually spent our days looking out the windows all warm & comfy-cozy!) and she could still get up on it.  The huge problem was she would periodically want down.  Her jumping off was a disaster that I will leave to your imagination (scary!).  After a couple days, the bed became the community desk, the dining room table, the computer stand, the laundry folding table, etc. We were put in the laundry room when “the woman” had to leave the house, wanted to shower, or if she wanted to cook, and was the only human at home.  We were put in the laundry room at night, and I was the security guard. I think I did a damn good job.  Despite her stroke, with her hearing and vision being hugely affected, she was like Boris Karloff in the movie “The Mummy.”  Her little head thrust forward and one front leg and paw were out front, as if they were pointing the direction, and pulling her forward. Constantly wandering, up and down the stairs,  with my little self running after her to “herd” her and be her guide. “The woman”  running behind us. Some days it was insane wandering unless “the woman” lay down on the big bed with us and watched t.v. But if “the woman” would get up to use the bathroom or need to do anything, the wandering would start again.  And, by then, with the days starting to pass, LOUD nonstop meowing started in with the wandering.  Clearly, the little KittyKaty was frustrated with her perdicament, even though she was eating and seemed to know us. Our family vet, who gave “the woman” the KittyKaty years earlier, decided to try giving her a shot of cortisone. For 24 hours, she was a bit more herself, the loud meowing stopped.  Then it seemed she had another tiny stroke on Mother’s Day, and sadly, she was worse.  I was a good partner to her during her last days here. I made up for all the arguments between us through the years. I greatly admired her courage. She did not want to leave us. It was all terribly sad.  While “the woman” was gone at the vet, that last car ride, I brought about 10-12 toys from downstairs (some were beanie babies) and put them on “the woman’s” bed. She did not appreciate it like I thought she would have.  I have never done something like that and to come home to seeing little stuffed toys all over her bed freaked her out, due to the occasion and all.  It was just my way of telling her I knew what had come to pass. And those first few days were very hard. There was a thick stillness in the house that was so terribly uncomfortable. “The woman” was inconsolable, and did not leave my side. We became even closer. I am going on 13 now. I have my own health problems. I have a nice soft heated velour bed instead of my regimented, time oriented, “you are such a dumb bastard,” and “how did I ever get YOU in my bed!” older woman.  Whenever “the woman” says her name (KittyKaty), I have a distinctive loud meow I make. It is always consistantly the same. “The woman” knows.  She is smart enough to know.  That has been the easy part.  My letting her know that I remember.  I remember my KittyKaty……………..more later……..T.W.


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