The Mourning Season

Last year, seven days after my birthday, I woke up and Kitty, my 19 year old cat, wasn't in her usual spot. That usual spot was actually many spots, but it was almost always somewhere near me.

I went to the living room and saw her there. I let out a sigh of relief because I knew she was old. I had spent the last few years making sure she was breathing when she was asleep and had other paranoid moments. I went back to the bedroom thinking all was fine. It wasn't. I guess she'd had a stroke during the night. She couldn't walk but was able to make it to my bedroom door.

I flipped out, grabbed my computer and found the number for 24 hour emergency pet clinics. I found one, but, at that time, I was up in Harlem, so it was a bit of a trek from where I was to the center. By the time we got there, she'd died. At least, it was in her travel bag (she got calm when I put her in that.) I donated her body to research (it was a teaching hospital). They then sent her off to be cremated. A few days later I got her remains back in a tin box. I won't get into it too much. I wrote about it the day she died. I miss her.

Although, it's my favorite season, the autumn is also a sad season for me. My mother died years ago in November. Then five weeks later when winter is in full swing, I remember that my father died just weeks after my mother. (Tends to happen that way in my family a lot.)

Nothing more to say except I miss all three of them so very much. I've learned most people mean well, but I'm about to become a mountain recluse. (Most people are morons.) I'm glad I've got loving memories of them all and realize I'm lucky. I feel these loses strongly but that's only because they lived and, because of that, I was blessed with tons of love and attention.

Sphere: Related Content