Paco for President 2016!

Don’t like any of the other presidential candidates??  Vote for Paco!!

PacoPresident

Paco’s Platform:

Legalized “catnip” for everyone!

Mandatory nap time at work (lots and lots of nap time).

Bring back cat worship…while respecting freedom of all religions of course.

Achieve world peace by handing everyone a purring kitten [big sigh] and, well okay, if you must, a 100-mph tail wagging squirmy puppy too.

Universal vet care.

Sponsor legislation enacting hunting season for Minnesota dentists…for one certain Minnesota dentist.

Option to receive salary in form of cat litter, cat treats, cat food, or some combo thereof.

 

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A dream. A memory.

TurtleForBlog

She came to visit me again last night. I don’t remember if I was laying in bed or sitting in a chair in this dream, but there she was, climbing into my lap. No, not climbing. Pushing. She could be like that. Very pushy.

Her name was Turtle, and I lost her almost two years ago to old age. (Such is the heartbreak with pets.) I’m not sure if I called her to me last night, but I think I may have. I remember thinking how she immediately climbed into bed with me to snuggle as close as possible – meaning, she draped herself across my face – at nighttime. But I’ve done that before. I’ve asked her to return and not received an answer. Until last night. There she was, insistently pushing her way onto my lap and refusing to settle down until my arms were firmly wrapped around her. She wanted to be held. She missed being held.

So I held her…until the dream slipped away sometime before dawn. And when Paco seemed extraordinarily pushy in wanting extra cuddle time after breakfast, I put aside my chores and let him claim ownership of my lap.

Love your pets while they’re with you. You may not get the chance in your dreams.

The Best Christmas Ever

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Presents under the tree, turkey in the oven, friends and family gathered ‘round, phone calls from loved ones far away. These are the kinds of things which make a perfect Christmas.

But the perfect Christmas isn’t always the best Christmas – that one Christmas which remains in the forefront of your memory.

I usually spend my holidays with good friends who ‘adopted’ me into their family years ago. And it’s usually a rollicking good time: food, laughter, some liquor, playing with the kids, playing games ranging from Fluxx, to Munchkin, to Chez Geek, to Battle Cattle, to Give Me The Brain.

But last year, those four “disease vectors” (otherwise known as my friends’ four young children) had brought home a nasty flu bug which was making its rounds through the family. They didn’t want to infect anyone else. Christmas got cancelled.

I thought about making other plans, but I knew that 2012 would be the last Christmas for my beloved cat, Turtle. She was 16 and her kidneys were failing. And she was painfully thin. I decided to stay home and devote my holiday to her.

I tried to get her interested in the cat toys I opened, but it was the other three kitties who pounced on the fluffy mice and wrapping paper. Turtle only wanted to climb into my lap. laptime So after all the gifts were opened, and my hot chocolate all gone, I put on a DVD and we cuddled in the big chair. She was never much for curling up into a ball on my lap except on occasion. So she took her usual position: stretched out across my torso, her head resting on my right shoulder.

(As a kitten, Turtle would plant her face in the side of my neck while kneading it with her paws and sucking on my skin. [I’m told that’s a sign she was weened too early.] Ever since, she’s been most comfortable when she’s as close as possible to my face. We would often sleep cheek to cheek.)

So we spent Christmas like that, her face next to mine, my arms wrapped around her, keeping her warm. It was the last day I heard her purr. And it was the best, most rewarding, Christmas I’ve ever spent, for she would be gone eleven days later.

Sometimes you don’t need to do anything for Christmas except spend some time with a loved one: person or pet. And you don’t need to give anything except some love. Image

Healing Through Horror

She was running after me as fast as her little legs would carry her. She ran and she ran, but she was old and tired. She couldn’t keep up with me as the airplane carried me away. She faded into the distance, a tiny animal swallowed by the blackness of my mind.

I don’t know if she couldn’t catch up, or simply gave up, but I think it was the latter. I had abandoned her, betrayed her, when she needed me most.

Turtle 4x4

She was Turtle, an opinionated and stubborn 16 year old calico cat. Feral born, I found her in the parking lot of a liquor store, and over the years formed a closer bond with her than any other pet, or any human.

So why was I on an airplane, traveling further than ever before – literally to the ends of the earth?

Because I had a dream, a goal, for which I’d been striving for years, to set foot on Antarctica. I can’t explain my need to travel to the most remote locations I can, nor is this the time or place.

This is about Turtle, or rather my guilt at leaving her to die without me. I’d been with every previous pet when he or she passed away, and now I was going to miss seeing the one I loved the most off to her next journey.

Granted, this was a colossal case of bad timing on my part, nor did I believe it would come to this. When she was diagnosed with kidney failure in August, I thought she would go quickly within a month or so like Indy ten years earlier. But kidneys are unpredictable, and cats with little kidney function can stabilize for months. She did. So I set aside my fear and prepared for my dream trip of a lifetime. After all, she would be in the good hands of neighbors Chris & Myssi, both of whom work as veterinary technicians.

Then came November 7th, around 1 a.m. I needed to leave the house no later than 5 a.m., and was scrambling to get ready, and maybe catch a couple hours of sleep. But Turtle – probably stressed at the sight of me packing a suitcase yet again – started vomiting and showing signs of distress. There was not enough time to take her to the emergency vet and, admittedly, I did not want her to die in a strange place. So I did the only thing I could think of. I zipped the suitcases shut, and held her for the last four hours. And then I said goodbye to her (3 or 4 or 5 times) before rushing to the airport in tears.

When I saw her in that mind’s eye image, chasing after me, I knew I would never see her again. I cried in the airport; I cried on the airplane; I cried in my cabin every night aboard the boat.

I’d left instructions with the vet and neighbors as to what to do should Turtle die, so I knew her ashes would be awaiting me when I returned. But that didn’t make my emotional pain any more bearable. That didn’t lessen my guilt nor make my selfishness any less real. Non-pet owners probably don’t understand this, and maybe even some pet owners. But I take seriously my commitment – my promise – to any pet I bring into my home. It is life long. I owe them a good life. I owe them a peaceful death. A death with their human at their side to say goodbye one last time. With Turtle, I had failed. I’d broken my promise and that was probably the most painful realization.

So I did the only thing I could. I’m a writer. I decided to work through my guilt, to “heal through horror,” as I decided to label it.

I’d taken a notebook and an idea with me on the trip, not knowing exactly what I would do with it. A dark fantasy/horror piece I titled “The Fisherman’s Wife” about a woman named Kima and her revenge against the men who murdered her magician husband. In their culture, magic is found in the hands, so his murderers had cut off his fingers and divided them amongst themselves. Kima’s mission was to recover her husband’s fingers, thus to restore his magic and kill his enemies.

I decided to give Kima a dog. A big dog named Oolee who, despite having been injured and left for dead in the original attack, will follow Kima on her mission. (A cat would have been impractical.) I decided to give Kima a similar gut-wrenching decision. Stay or go?

The fate of Kima and Oolee is found in their story.

My fate: still to be written.

Turtle’s fate: she sits beside me now…in an urn with a beautiful plaque reading “In Loving Memory.”

I am happy to report that she survived my month-long absence. I can’t express enough gratitude to Chris & Myssi for nursing her back to stabilization, praying for her survival. Even as a writer, I can’t find words to describe my astonishment at finding her curled up underneath the desk where I now sit. She growled at me for a moment, then melted into my arms, purring. We had another month together. And then, in a bookend image to that early morning back in November, I sat, holding her, telling her it was okay to let go, as she slipped away to heaven.

How will Kima and Oolee say goodbye?

Discover the answer in “The Fisherman’s Wife” (part of the “Skin and Bones” anthology e-book for sale at Smashwords.com and at Amazon Kindle):

Smashwords: http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/337955
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Skin-and-Bones-ebook/dp/B00E19DQHA/