The Invisible Cat

Pom Pom. What a name!
It all began when I was considering a new roommate. Laura's passing left such a black void in my world, a dark and cold hole that only the spirit of another living, breathing being could begin to patch.
We have had cats before - or cats have owned us, I should say. In our eleven years in the cabin only two have resided with us. Gomez-the original and Gomez two. The original Gomez was a black and white kitty who was the last born of a litter. I wrote about Gomez before and won't go into detail here.
Gomez Two was found in a hollow log by two great friends who had come by the cabin for a visit. While we were not in the market for a new cat, this little abandoned fellow sorely needed a place to stay. After placing the kitty on Laura's chest, and the kitten's paws wrapped around her neck like a hug, Laura said yes and a kitten had a home. We charged Fiona with naming the new kitty. "Gomez two"
Gomez Two was insane - not the 'I'm a cat' type of insane. He took it to a whole new level. Scratching paint from the walls; jumping from the balcony to the floor below. Then, he escaped to the outside one day and suddenly he was an indoor/outdoor cat. Bad for us because, no matter how many flea collars and treatments that we applied, he brought the fleas in the house and they attacked with a vengeance. After that, he was an outside cat. Bad for him and Gomez the Original as our area has coyotes, hawks and other cat-unfriendly predators. We last saw Gomez Two one morning before going to work. We placed his food and water in the bowls, gave him a pat on the head and we were off. Gomez Two was not to be seen again.
Laura said "No more cats!"
I was in agreement with her. You get them, they become a part of the family and then you lose them. Not a good location for a small, outside animal.
So I decided, after Laura passed, that a live female presence was needed in the home. While trying to decide what kind of fish or hamster I would acquire, granddaughter Fiona told me that I needed a kitten.
So - a kitten it would be!
The lovely Peggy heard about this and took it upon herself to arrange it. She called me up and asked me to meet her at a place called Pawmetto Lifeline. - an animal rescue facility. I heard from the adoption specialist there that most of the kittens are rescued form 'Death Row', and my kitten was no exception.
I met Peggy, daughter in law Catherine and Fiona there and we started shopping kitties. Peggy had observed Pom Pom when she first arrived, a playful Calico mix with the softest fur that I had ever had the pleasure of stroking. After picking out three kittens to interact with, they brought Pom Pom to the room first. I think Fiona had already made up her mind that Pom Pom was to be the one. She even told the specialist that we didn't need to see the other kittens. I asked Fiona what we should name the cat. "She already has a name. She's Pom Pom". So we packed 6 month old Pom Pom in the carrier and drove the 40 miles back to the cabin. As soon as we opened the carrier, Pom Pom skedaddled! She found a hiding place under the sofa and there she would stay. Later in the day, we were able to pull her from under the sofa and we took her to the bedroom. There, Fiona placed her under the covers and crawled in with her, petting her and talking to her. Pom Pom seemed to like being under there...for a little while. As soon as Fiona lifted the covers, the kitten made a run for it and was gone. This time, under the china cabinet. Earlier, before we took her to the bed, I had shown her where food, water and litter box were located. As the days progressed, Pom Pom was an invisible cat. I could see the effects of little Pom - cat bowls almost empty, litter box used, etc. But no sighting. This went on for weeks. Every day I fed and watered her and kept an eye on the litter box. Every day I looked high and low for her. She was not to be found. No noise, no bumps in the night, no purring, no meows. After three weeks, Fiona visited again and we went on an adventure - find Pom Pom. We moved furniture, looked behind clothes hanging in the walk in closet, upstairs in the bathroom, underneath everything that we could think of - no Pom Pom. "She'll eventually come out granddaddy" I knew that Fiona was right. I was, however, getting a bit tired of feeding and cleaning up after what appeared to be an invisible cat.
"Maybe she has powers like no other kitten" I told Fiona.
"What powers?" she asked.
"Like Wonder Woman, maybe she has invisibility powers. She may be sitting right there in front of us but we can't see her".
"Maybe so, granddaddy. Maybe so".
And another two weeks went by.
One night as I came in from work, I saw through the window a golden blur which crossed the visible area between the walls of the foyer and disappeared just past my line of sight. Wow! I have a visible cat!
Two nights later, as I turned over in my bed to go to sleep, I felt a slight thump on the bed. Turning back over, I looked up to see a kitten standing on my bed. She slowly made her way up to my face and purred. I petted her, talked to her and she reacted by pressing her nose to mine. She stayed on my bed, jumping, playing and chasing my hand which was under the covers. When I would move to get out from the covers, she would run. So, for the next few nights she was a night time visitor. When I would awaken, she would become invisible again. That is until...this weekend. Fiona came to stay the night. While lounging in bed, eating pizza and watching a movie the little cat that could jumped on the bed from an unknown hiding place and started playing with Fiona. This time, however, she didn't take off when Fiona moved the covers and started playing with her. She stayed and played.
Next evening my family came down for a visit. "Look up there. A cat is hanging out of that rolled up carpet on the balcony", my sister observed. My brother went upstairs and started interacting with Pom and, next thing I know, I have a visible cat! This morning she was waiting for my brother when he woke up.
I'm not sure what this poor cat went through before being rescued from death row, but I think that I've finally passed the audition with her. Welcome to Fort Reid little Pom Pom!

Five Stages

The five stages of grief- denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance.

Denial - did that one in the moments before and after she passed. No way! Laura could not die, not on my watch! I still have those moments, although they are fewer and farther between. 

Anger - okay...at whom? God? Myself? Laura? The world??
Sure, I get pissed at the hospital and the doctor that allowed this to happen. Fact is - they tried their best to prevent it, or so I'm told. Laura had been much sicker than she even suspected. The thing that killed her moved slowly through her body, causing her blood sugar to rise at the same time. With a highly elevated blood sugar level, you become delusional and your brain does not process any situation correctly. Whenever I would ask her if she needed to see a doctor her reply was always the same-"no, I think I'm finally getting over this. Just let me rest a while longer and I'll be better". She didn't have a fever until way too late.
I get pissed at myself for not making her go to the doctor. I would ask, she would say no and that was it. Should I have insisted? Maybe. In hindsight my answer is "hell yeah - take her now"! But that didn't happen. And I am so truly sorry for that.
Pissed at God? What good would that do? I'm told that he has a plan. Not long ago on the Facebook thing, someone posted one of those memes which had a picture of a park bench with the caption 'if you could spend one hour here talking with anyone who would it be?" I answered "God". I have quite a few questions for the almighty.
Pissed at Laura? Not really - if she had been aware, she would have been the first to tell me to seek treatment for her. I did find myself, early on, screaming inside of an empty home "Why did you leave?"
Out of our hands and a moot point now. Acceptance of that, at least.
The world? Why bother. The world has enough problems, and like my friend James said about the year 2016, it didn't give a shit about how I felt. So that's wasted time.
So there is anger, but it's directionless - without a rudder. It's more harmful than good, so let's try and squelch the anger for now.
Bargaining - never really understood this one. All the bargaining in the world won't bring her back. So let's drop that chip and move along.
Depression - that's where I'm currently residing. Anti-depressants take you so far - but the "I don't really give a crap about much" attitude is strong. And this is where I get into trouble. At work, I tend to speak my mind before thinking about what I need to be saying. This may cost me this job - but right now, I don't give a flying rat's ass. 
I do appreciate the love and concern of my family and friends, who constantly check in on me. I was able to go to the coast yesterday and spend a few rainy, windy hours with my buddy James. It was good to get out of the house and go somewhere like the coast. The ocean always reminds me of the timelessness of life here on earth, and how we are but a grain of sand on the shores of life (this statement is so fucking lame, but true).
Acceptance - Hell, I don't know. I've accepted as best I can, but don't like it one little bit. I miss her, I miss her every single day, and I know that her memory will, for a long time, be at the forefront of my thoughts. I cannot move something from one place to another in the house without thinking of how she might have felt about it. When I do a project at home, it's usually one that she had asked me to do last year. I remember her instructions very well and carry them out. After all, it is her house-she just allows me to live there.

That's enough for today.

47 Days

47 Days.
I've noticed that each day without Laura is an anniversary, of sorts. Not a good, celebratory type, but another lonely day and night wondering just what the hell happened.
My doctor prescribed an antidepressant - it does help me to sleep but I'm afraid that it doesn't allow me to really touch the pain and grief. I learned the lesson from losing our daughter RuthE that to cope with the pain, you need to touch it. It's okay to put a bandage on it for time, but you really need to peel it off every once and awhile and  check on it. Soon, I'll wean myself off this medication so I can check on things.

I'm still working on the house, trying to make it ready to convert some of it to an Air BNB. It's a perfect situation - out of the way, in the woods, log cabin. I'm hoping to attract interest since there's not another AirBNB in Newberry, SC. The view from the upstairs bedroom is wonderful! Pond, woods, stone chimney just outside the double windows. The area is relatively quiet, except when my neighbor's hunting dogs go on a tear. But that doesn't happen very often. For a weary traveler, it's a great place to get a good night's rest.

My friends keep checking in on me. They knew Laura and are totally in tune with the love that Laura and I shared for 40 plus years. They have been totally supportive and helpful. My family has been trying to make sure that I stay busy. We have a couple of projects under our belts and a couple more lined up. This is always a good thing.

My nephew is studying in England and has kept me occupied with his and his brother's web page, checking out photos of their travels. Over the holidays, they rented a car and drove through a good portion of Europe - stopping in Paris long enough to light two candles in Notre Dame Cathedral - one for Laura and one for Ruth E. That was very, very thoughtful of them.

Every day. Every single day I tell Laura I love her and I miss her. I imagine that I'll continue to do this for the rest of my life.
My God, how I miss that girl!

It's Just Stuff

Boxes, bags and bins.
Full of stuff.
Projects to be revisited. Memories stored away.
Old newspapers herald national disasters and national triumphs.
Old magazines proclaim "The Year That Was".
Craft projects that were interrupted by life, awaiting the maker's completion.
Holiday decorations for each season, all packed neatly away, waiting for it's season to shine.
Half a room full of stuff waiting on a decision from it's owner as to it's final destination.
Stuff.

George Carlin said it best - a house is just a place to put your stuff.
And man - did we ever accumulate stuff over 40 years!
I once thought that it was mostly Laura's stuff. I was wrong.
I have so many tools spread around that it looks as if I ended up with two of everything. (Should have opted for the garage instead of the free doors and windows when we bought the home package).
Video production gear-OMG-out the wazoo!
Books - hell, you'd think that we were starting a library!
All this stuff. And now I'm touching it, sorting it, going through it and trying to make decisions.
But I can only make decisions on my things. Laura's is strictly off limits. Too raw right now.

After the financial crash of 2000whenever, Laura and I began going through this stuff. She wanted to keep all the craft magazines, the craft materials - anything craft. Her goal was to knit and crochet in her golden years, making place mats and coasters and what-nots to give to unsuspecting relatives.
She was a fantastic cross stitcher. We have a cross stitch of the Biltmore House on the wall, which took her a year to complete.
I have a painting that she did on multiple layers of glass that, when stacked together, is a grouping of roses. Beautiful!
Most of our place mats for the table were lovingly crafted by her hands - a set for each season.
She also collected cookbooks, recipe books, recipes, etc. Shelves full of cookbooks. I must admit, they are coming in handy for a novice chef such as myself. After bff Pamela taught me a few culinary skills, and nudged me to a healthier diet, I have found recipes in these books which challenge me. My friend Stuart is constantly posting pics on FB of the gorgeous meals that he prepares for himself. I aspire to obtain some of his skills.
The only plus about the financial meltdown and the subsequent loss of employment that was dealt to us was that we couldn't accumulate any more stuff. We started selling some stuff. Not enough - but a few things.

Now I'm going through the remainder of this stuff. And as I touch, feel and admire the beauty of it I try and make those permanent decisions of it's fate. Now that Laura is gone, it's easier now than it used to be.
Most of my projects were for her anyway. I can now make decisions on my stuff. Hers - not so much right now.

But, it's like Laura always told me - it's just stuff.