Humor us one more day and we promise to get back to our normal, FABULOUS selves.
This has been a tough day for Shelby and I. Much as the doctor had warned, she has been verrrrrry clingy, but otherwise relatively normal. I have seen her feed and drink, which is great, but she doesn't seem to be using the litter box. That's something I will call about tomorrow if it doesn't resolve itself. Maybe she's using the one upstairs that Jack rarely used. Surely, she's been today or she'd seem a lot more miserable!
I'm tormented by smells today. When they brought Jackson to me, he smelled horrible- like a dirty baby. That putrid milk smell that a baby gets by the end of the day. Combined with wet cat. I never want to smell that smell again! In addition, in a fit of poor judgement, I tied the crawfish shells from the weekend in a plastic bag and put them in the outdoor garbage bin. That was a bad idea... it was 90 degrees today. The yard reeks, and the garbage man doesn't come until Thursday. And to top that off, I think a possum has died under the house. I get a faint wiff of it here in the office, and the downstairs bathroom filled with fleas last night, which always happens when something croaks beneath the floorboards. At least they seem to confine themselves to the bathroom, which I think is because the floor there is white. I really wish I could just turn my nose off for a while. Instead, I've chosen to shove it into a glass of wine.
Believe it or not, this is the first time in my adult life that I have experience the loss of a pet, and the first time I have had to put one down. We had an Irish Setter for most of my childhood, and she died the summer between high school and college. Natural causes. I wasn't home at the time. It was sad, but not terrible.
Today was terrible. After having lost 4 grandparents, 2 parents, a brother, numerous aunts and uncles, and many, many friends, I thought I was a grief warrior! Grieve, yes. Take your time, yes. Time will heal, yes. Yet somehow, this was different. My pain initially was much more intense- the tears were like acid running down my face. I cried harder, longer, and much more intensely than I did when Momma or Daddy died. When they died, I felt blistered. It hurt. I wasn't going to die from it, but it hurt. And it lingered, and different things would irritate it and make it worse again. It seemed like every time I walked, I rubbed against that blister and irritated it again.
This was more of an acute pain, like a stab, or a cut. It hurt really bad when it happened, but now, it seems bandaged, and as long as I'm careful, I think it will heal quickly and leave one of those scars that reminds you how much fun you were having when you fell. He was my first cat. He came into my life with my first live in lover. He stayed with me after I had my first real breakup. And now he's gone.
I still have Shelby, thank god! And my little Nog, the one I worry about the most, is healthy and happy and ruling the back yard. And I'm sure there will be other cats in my future. Maybe I will find them; maybe they will find me. But Jackson will always be my first kitty, and that means he will always be a special kitty. And I thank ALL of my kitty loving friends for their love, support, understanding, and patience!
It would probably do me good to get out. But I don't want to leave Shelby alone. She's never been alone. As luck would have it, I had planned a few days "staycation" this week to try to get some things done. So much for that. But at least I have a couple of days to keep an eye on Shelby, and I am thrilled that I have my GingerSnaps to talk to. You all mean the world to me!