tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-62637122011-04-21T20:34:14.253-04:00A journey of healing from pet losscatpersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16969178749310096875noreply@blogger.comBlogger671100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6263712.post-1102553559174961332004-12-08T19:51:00.000-05:002004-12-08T19:52:39.173-05:00

So it's been quite some time since I posted on here. I just wanted to recognize the year anniversary of losing Reggie. Having Taz helps a little...at least I don't miss having a cat, and since he was once Amy's cat, well, all the better. But I miss Reggie. Rest in peace, honey girl. Reggie (aka Zen Kitty) April 3, 1993-December 8, 2003

catpersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16969178749310096875noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6263712.post-1084310252327786692004-05-11T17:15:00.000-04:002004-05-11T17:17:32.326-04:00

No one is reading this blog anymore. (and so just to WHOM am I writing this?!) So I'm going to stop. Which makes me sad. I began this journey shortly after I had Reggie put to sleep, and the *ending* (so to speak) of this part of the grieving process is another loss associated with losing my little girl. Thank you to all the readers and commenters (again, who the hell is going to see this?! Oy

catpersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16969178749310096875noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6263712.post-1083630576961554232004-05-03T20:27:00.000-04:002004-05-03T20:34:16.856-04:00

So...he's adjusting. He still wakes me up at night, or early in the morning. He is being much more playful, baiting me to chase him, running around, attacking random pieces of scotch tape that happen to be on the floor. He is laying in, well, more relaxed positions on the couch...crashed on his side like a lion, or head tucked under, paw over eyes. Reggie used to do that, get into what I

catpersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16969178749310096875noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6263712.post-1082470026724604032004-04-20T10:06:00.000-04:002004-04-20T10:11:11.513-04:00

This is quite delayed...although methinks no one is reading this but me anymore! However, in the outside chance that someone is...here is Taz.

catpersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16969178749310096875noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6263712.post-1082309734139964462004-04-18T13:34:00.000-04:002004-04-18T13:39:35.983-04:00

I've been feeling Amy's presence in a weird way since Taz arrived. I mean, how could I NOT? But it's sort of new, sort of uncomfortable, and, as with all things that make her feel close, oddly comforting at the same time. Wish I could blog more about it. It's still sort of ethereal, out there, about an inch past my reach, just outside my understanding. I miss her. And I'm so grateful to

catpersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16969178749310096875noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6263712.post-1082095165503856982004-04-16T01:57:00.000-04:002004-04-16T02:03:23.593-04:00

I notice little things every day (like him not waking me up today until SEVEN THIRTY!!!!!)...last night he laid next to me on the futon while I was working, for the first time. Right now he's on the bed...laying down. I have yet (until just now) to see him lay down, actually lay his head down. A sign of comfort, of vulnerability. It's heart-melting. I can actually feel the softening in myself.

catpersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16969178749310096875noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6263712.post-1082005257409595822004-04-15T00:58:00.000-04:002004-04-15T01:05:48.936-04:00

He really seems to be adjusting. Tonight, for the first time, he got up on the futon while I was doing work and curled up on the blanket next to me. I got a pang, because Reggie used to do that. He's still very needy...I sat down and thought about it tonight; for more than half of his life he's been shifted around, taken to different places, and had great variability in his care and bonding.

catpersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16969178749310096875noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6263712.post-1081894031291807152004-04-13T18:05:00.000-04:002004-04-13T18:11:06.903-04:00

the last time I traveled, I didn't have a cat. The time before that, the last time I went to my parents' (which is where I was for the last few days), I came home to a VERY sick Reg, who, ten days later, had to be put to sleep. I'd only had Taz for a week when I had to leave. I worried a little. Not because this was at all the same situation...just because. He seems fine. Don't want to jinx

catpersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16969178749310096875noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6263712.post-1081571361038993032004-04-10T00:27:00.000-04:002004-04-10T00:33:56.763-04:00

It's so weird to have a cat again...sometimes I feel like I can't remember Reggie (which clearly, I CAN), and sometimes, it feels like there was never really NOT a cat here. And it feels weird not to miss her so much. But I think I DO miss her, and I always will. I just don't have to "miss" having a kitty companion. :) I was so freaked out, still am a little, with the whole Reg debacle not so

catpersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16969178749310096875noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6263712.post-1081456939749837542004-04-08T16:38:00.000-04:002004-04-08T16:54:27.513-04:00

I stopped by the vet today. I asked the girl in front (my favorite, but don't tell the others) about some adjustments Taz and I are having, most noteworthy the fact that he ALWAYS wants to be fed. I explained that the little guy has had a rough time of it; first owner (and original "mama") died, then "dad" had him for a few years, had to give him to "grandma" when he got remarried...and the

catpersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16969178749310096875noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6263712.post-1081398649309573102004-04-08T00:27:00.000-04:002004-04-08T00:38:20.186-04:00

So, he's been getting more and more comfortable. At first, whenever I said, "I'm going...{fill in the blank, from 'to take out the garbage' to 'to work', everything in between} he immediately ran under the bed. And then, when I came home, he came out of the bedroom, I presume from under the bed. But last night, and today, when I came in, he was laying on the loveseat. Once today, I came home to

catpersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16969178749310096875noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6263712.post-1081352892403015612004-04-07T11:41:00.000-04:002004-04-07T11:53:15.530-04:00

Okay, I'm hoping this wake-me-up-every-20-minutes by either: -scratching the box spring -clawing my shirt -standing on my HAIR, on my pillow -meowing Is an 'adjustment' thing. I can't ask B., Amy's widower, who "parented" Taz for several years, how to deal with this. Why can't I ask him? We had many conversations about this when it was HIS problem, and they went something like this: B: Taz

catpersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16969178749310096875noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6263712.post-1081313637663864892004-04-07T00:53:00.000-04:002004-04-07T01:01:34.670-04:00

I figured something out tonight. Besides all the grief (!), and the worry about *whatever* happening, there is something else that has me uncomfortable in this adjustment period. way back here, I related how Reg and I were, well, basically afraid of each other when I first got her. She was a little 10-week-old kitten, and I was a first-time cat mama. Over the years, we grew together. I knew

catpersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16969178749310096875noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6263712.post-1081227101820711522004-04-06T00:48:00.000-04:002004-04-06T00:55:26.293-04:00

It's going well, I think, all things considered. That is...the functional adjustment is going well. My emotions are ALL OVER the place...missing Reggie (this validates to me that if not for this special situation, I would NOT be ready for a new cat. Lots of yet-gone-thru grief stuff), missing Amy (in a way I haven't felt in, well, years), and being worried about going through "the end" again any

catpersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16969178749310096875noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6263712.post-1081104402376159252004-04-04T14:37:00.000-04:002004-04-04T14:50:25.076-04:00

I have been cleaning Chez Zenchick in anticipation of Taz's arrival. This inlcluded a thorough cleaning of under the bed, where I found an old Amazon.com box, which I had used to make a "snug retreat" for Reggie when she was sick a year before she died. I saved it in case I ever needed it again. I pulled one of the flaps of the box open, just enough to see a t-shirt in there. I figured it

catpersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16969178749310096875noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6263712.post-1081051184360330022004-04-03T22:55:00.000-05:002004-04-03T23:05:37.076-05:00

..........he's like, TOTALLY asleep, in the MIDDLE OF MY BED! I was on the phone with C., and I was laying on the bed, on my back, and I yawned, and lifted my arm up, and came down upon his soft furry back. I hadn't even felt him jump up!! And then he snuggled up {sigh} This was after he came out from under the bed looked at me ran back under... ...until I opened the can of cat food. Then he

catpersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16969178749310096875noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6263712.post-1081043508305911522004-04-03T20:50:00.000-05:002004-04-03T20:56:09.950-05:00

well...Mr. Tazmerelda (as D. calls him, I say that's his drag name) has made several trips out from under the bed, to eat, sniff around, randomly run into Reggie's scent, and hiss and return to under the bed. He's also done a lot of talking, and let me pet him quite a bit. Progress, if you ask me. Courage little rascal :-)

catpersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16969178749310096875noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6263712.post-1081015722210200482004-04-03T13:04:00.000-05:002004-04-03T13:12:23.856-05:00

So, he's here. :-) He's under the bed now, after a little while of walking all around the place, low to the ground, with minimal growling/hissing. I assume he smells Reg. D. came with me to pick him up (about an hour away, near DC) and had him, in the carrier, on her lap the whole way home. He made the most pathetic meowing sorta sound at first, but she opened up the carrier on her lap and

catpersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16969178749310096875noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6263712.post-1080946407008993732004-04-02T17:52:00.000-05:002004-04-02T17:57:07.686-05:00

so...besides feeling completely overcome with emotion... I'm going around my pad, re-cat-proofing it... and smiling to myself. Yeah, I'm full of grief and fear. But I'm going to have a little (actually, he's pretty huge) FURBABY here again!!!!! Wow.

catpersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16969178749310096875noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6263712.post-1080880172406713972004-04-01T23:28:00.000-05:002004-04-01T23:33:11.576-05:00

He's coming here day after tomorrow. I'm overcome. With grief for Reggie, for Amy (like I haven't felt in years), fear that he will get sick and die... ...and joy. And humility. This is so much bigger than me. I feel like Amy and Reg are sending him to me.

catpersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16969178749310096875noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6263712.post-1080793982130463842004-03-31T23:30:00.000-05:002004-03-31T23:36:39.996-05:00

I can't sleep. I'm sure it has to do with getting Taz this weekend. I'm sure it has a little to do, also, with the fact that my big yearly event for work was last night, and the last few weeks have been incredibly stressful. I feel like there is this cascade, this waterfall of feelings I have...about getting another cat, but particularly about it being Amy's cat. In my head, I think: how

catpersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16969178749310096875noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6263712.post-1080013181615203152004-03-22T22:34:00.000-05:002004-03-22T22:50:49.013-05:00

Remember this? Today, Amy's mom called. She wants me to take Taz. {{big time mixed feelings, including: loss of Amy and loss of Reggie and happiness and humble honor at taking Amy's cat...}} Wait, it gets BETTER. I'm to pick him up next weekend.......... ..........which falls on what would have been Reg's 11th birthday. Not to look a gift horse (cat?) in the mouth, but I could use some

catpersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16969178749310096875noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6263712.post-1079917559953690912004-03-21T20:01:00.000-05:002004-03-21T20:09:24.186-05:00

what would have been Reggie's 11th birthday is coming up. Someone suggested to me I make a scrapbook, a memory book of sorts. So today, while I was at Target, looking for something else, I found this beautiful scrapbook, perfect size, with a butterfly on it. I bought it. I feel a lot of resistance to doing this. I finally don't have a lot of emotions all the time about it, and I can sense

catpersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16969178749310096875noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6263712.post-1079586802134145012004-03-18T00:05:00.000-05:002004-03-18T00:16:40.983-05:00

Tonight killed two birds with one stone, in a relatively random occurance. Part I I know this girl Jill. She used to, when she was a wee lass, work at the video store I patronized. We were fellow cinephiles, and became friendly, despite a huge difference in age. She is an old soul, I suspect. I lose track of her for years at a time, but eventually she shows up: at Whole Foods, or other such

catpersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16969178749310096875noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6263712.post-1079477014579691322004-03-16T17:42:00.000-05:002004-03-16T17:47:45.390-05:00

seeing this brought tears to my eyes. That's okay. So's how I felt last night. (reminds me that what would have been Reg's 11th b-day is coming up. Think I'm going to make a little memory book.)

catpersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16969178749310096875noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6263712.post-1079406615691340032004-03-15T22:04:00.000-05:002004-03-15T22:13:31.733-05:00

The weirdest thing happened tonight. I just realized that I'm not so sad anymore, that I'm not thinking about her and missing her all the time. And, frankly, I don't like it much. I remember this happening to me some time after Amy died. It's a yucky feeling, because for so long after Amy died, I had my grief. I held onto it. I hugged it. And then one day (it seemed sudden, although in

catpersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16969178749310096875noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6263712.post-1079071273952615902004-03-12T00:57:00.000-05:002004-03-12T01:05:03.716-05:00

This is one of my fave buddhist stories: This is the story of Krisha Gotami, a young woman who had the good fortune to live at the time of the Buddha. When her firstborn child was about a year old, it fell ill and died. Grief-stricken and clutching its little body, Krisha Gotami roamed the streets, begging anyone she met for a medicine that could restore her child to life. Some ignored her, some

catpersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16969178749310096875noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6263712.post-1078886471193838392004-03-09T21:37:00.000-05:002004-03-09T21:45:25.733-05:00

One of the books I got on pet loss suggests that at some point, when you're ready, you write a letter to yourself, from your pet. Well, don't know if I was ready tonight, but I did it. I'll spare you the details of our history together, but here's the big finish. I can hardly type through my tears. Man, that cry felt good. I think, this last year, that the ‘futon game’ was my favorite. Well,

catpersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16969178749310096875noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6263712.post-1078800085256105902004-03-08T21:37:00.000-05:002004-03-08T21:44:31.263-05:00

One day, shortly after Reg died, I was in that not-quite-awake-yet phase, laying in bed, and I SWEAR I heard the first "crunch" sound of her eating. My eyes flipped open, and I listened, intently. But I didn't hear it again. "It's just the grief, the shock," I thought. Today, it's been exactly 12 weeks since I had her put to sleep. And just a little while ago, I was sitting here on the

catpersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16969178749310096875noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6263712.post-1078635224655188442004-03-06T23:50:00.000-05:002004-03-06T23:57:29.826-05:00

I was on the charter bus coming home from NYC tonight. They show a flick; tonight it was Radio. When I came home from my family visit the Saturday after Thanksgiving, and found a very ill kitty cat, I waited it out until Monday to take her to the vet. I didn't want to take her to the ER and have her admitted there, if I could help it. On Sunday, I was climbing the walls worrying about her, and

catpersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16969178749310096875noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6263712.post-1078372019895904992004-03-03T22:26:00.000-05:002004-03-03T22:49:59.013-05:00

....I'm so relaxed. Tonight, my former cat-sitter came over. (Backstory: she used to be an administrative assistant at my agency. Then, she became a pet-sitter. Last year, after Reggie's surgery, I hired her when I went out of town. Thus, she became my cat sitter. She also happens to practice meditation. Now, she is simply my friend.) She is studying reflexology. She worked on my feet for

catpersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16969178749310096875noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6263712.post-1077857982139842342004-02-26T23:55:00.000-05:002004-02-27T00:06:24.060-05:00

It's amazing what can give me huge pangs of missing her... check this out... Thanks, Kathryn. As the days go by and the grief gets more diffuse...I welcome these bittersweet pangs. It makes me miss her and feel her love again all at the same time.

catpersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16969178749310096875noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6263712.post-1077768996541515252004-02-25T23:09:00.000-05:002004-02-25T23:22:31.246-05:00

I got new windows put into my 40-year-old apartment recently. I fear the old ones were the originals. The rental manager (who also lives here, so she was speaking from personal experience) told me that not only would it keep the apartment warmer, but it kept a lot more outside sound out. So I was kinda surprised this morning to hear birds singing. I realized, too, that there haven't been any

catpersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16969178749310096875noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6263712.post-1077681718117652462004-02-24T22:31:00.000-05:002004-02-25T00:10:13.543-05:00

If you read my other blog, you may recall this post about my dad and his (unintentional) spiritual side... Tonight, we talked about Reggie. "I miss my little girl, Pop," I said. "I'm sure you do, sweetheart," he replied. He was then telling me that their little Yorkie seemed to be having some neck pain, and the vet visit that ensued. "See, people keep asking when I'm getting another cat," I

catpersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16969178749310096875noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6263712.post-1077505398393616262004-02-22T21:59:00.000-05:002004-02-22T22:06:38.950-05:00

For my birthday, my brother et family sent me an Amazon.com gift certificate. The first purchase was this book . It's by this guy, the founder of APLB. APLB (Association for Pet Loss and Bereavement) is an online support resource, including an online support group, that has been a godsend to me since losing Reggie. I don't know which came first...the book, or the sadness I feel. That is, I

catpersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16969178749310096875noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6263712.post-1077253291235534542004-02-19T23:57:00.000-05:002004-02-20T00:05:26.030-05:00

I'm jet lagged, but here goes... *the people I stayed with part of the time on my vacation in California had an 11-year-old striped tabby. His name was Darwin, and he meowed back and forth with me and let me rub his belly. WOW. Bittersweet. I haven't been around cats much since Reggie died, and it was both painful (missing her) and wonderful (missing her). Darwin rocks. *I have been

catpersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16969178749310096875noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6263712.post-1076618808507733632004-02-12T15:42:00.000-05:002004-02-12T15:51:05.450-05:00

I am a maniac before I fly. I actually warn people against spending time with me the 24 hours before departing on a plane trip, because I am such an anxious flyer. So here I am, on the first day of my vacation, furiously cleaning and packing. And all day I've felt like something's off. I just realized what it was. There's no kitty running under the bed when I bring out the vacuum. And no

catpersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16969178749310096875noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6263712.post-1076615034046204502004-02-12T14:38:00.000-05:002004-02-12T14:47:52.403-05:00

So this guy (one of my favorite bloggers to hang out online with) tells me to check out his friend, who has written a post inspired after reading this blog. Okay, first of all...I don't really check Sitemeter all that often...didn't know ANYONE was reading this blog! And secondly...I feel so humbly honored to have my writing about the loss of my little one affect him in such a way. Go read it,

catpersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16969178749310096875noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6263712.post-1076267468479371782004-02-08T14:09:00.000-05:002004-02-08T14:16:43.250-05:00

I saw this on this blog (January 31 post). Besides the fact that it really spoke to me, I just adore Anne Lamott, and in particular the book from which this quote is lifted, Traveling Mercies. "'All those years I fell for the great palace lie that grief should be gotten over as quickly as possible and as privately. But what I've discovered since is that the lifelong fear of grief keeps up in a

catpersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16969178749310096875noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6263712.post-1076220313525585102004-02-08T00:58:00.000-05:002004-02-08T01:07:38.920-05:00

Tonight, after dinner and a movie with D., I came home a little past midnight. As I got out of the car, I saw, out of the corner of my eye, something darting across the parking lot. A kitten, of course. I'm surprised I saw it, because it was all black. Looked to be about 4-5 months old. I stopped, and meowed. Kitten stopped, and turned to stare at me. S/he was about 10 feet away. Now,

catpersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16969178749310096875noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6263712.post-1076041150156467582004-02-05T23:01:00.000-05:002004-02-05T23:25:34.076-05:00

As you can see from the picture, Reggie wasn't just one color. She was what's referred to as a Mackeral Tabby, stripes of different colors. Hers were black, white, and brown. On each individual hair were all those colors. Which meant: no matter what color I myself wore, if her fur was on it, it showed. Black, white, everything in between. And you can be sure her fur was on EVERYTHING. I used

catpersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16969178749310096875noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6263712.post-1075871588983596562004-02-04T00:11:00.000-05:002004-02-04T00:15:28.716-05:00

I searched for this feeling all day and night yesterday, after talking with the vet... and it's finally here. I feel a huge weight lifted off my shoulders. I definitely did the right thing, going to talk to him. Of course...I also feel a new brand of sadness, the sadness that comes with letting go.

catpersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16969178749310096875noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6263712.post-1075759343782555272004-02-02T16:42:00.000-05:002004-02-02T17:07:35.110-05:00

I talked with the vet today. I was very nervous about it. I don't know why, but somehow (besides worrying it would make me upset) I feared that something he said would pose regret for me, would validate my guilt, however irrational it is, my feeling that I should have done something differently, that I could have prevented her death. (*The vet is about two minutes from my house. I turned on the

catpersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16969178749310096875noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6263712.post-1075672373144212122004-02-01T16:50:00.000-05:002004-02-01T16:55:25.513-05:00

A Tibetan master's son died sudenly from illness. Hearing him weep inconsolably, the master's disciples came and confronted him with their surprise. "You taught us that all is illusion and that we should not be attached," the admonished him. "Why are you weeping and wailing?" The master answered immediately, "Indeed all is illusion. But the loss of a child is the most painful illusion." From "

catpersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16969178749310096875noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6263712.post-1075496148585550962004-01-30T15:39:00.000-05:002004-01-30T15:58:02.576-05:00

When I made the decision to have Reggie put to sleep, I did so in somewhat of a crisis. That is, she had been not doing well for a week or so, and as the days wore on, I got more and more worried she wasn't going to get better. So when I took her in the day we ended up putting her down, it wasn't looking good. They were going to do exploratory surgery to see what was up. I don't have a clear

catpersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16969178749310096875noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6263712.post-1075350499544010852004-01-28T22:50:00.000-05:002004-01-29T20:54:00.733-05:00

-I take the plastic wrap off of ANYTHING, and you doesn't come running (from the sound) -the alarm goes off, and you don't jump up with your gutteral meow asking for breakfast -I come home, and while I'm getting the mail there are no whiny meows from upstairs -I move the bookshelf before the new windows are installed...and find under it a toy mouse, a pen, and a bottle cap that's it. Oh, except

catpersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16969178749310096875noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6263712.post-1075168987004408642004-01-26T20:32:00.000-05:002004-01-26T21:14:46.606-05:00

I went into the APLB pet loss support chat tonight, which I haven't done in a while. I get a lot out of it; they have professionals (counselors?) who sort of run it, and keep it organized. And of course there are others who have recently lost a pet. There is total acceptance and understanding. I've been feeling really stressed lately, but not actively sad. Maybe that has been part of the

catpersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16969178749310096875noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6263712.post-1074965642468020722004-01-24T12:27:00.000-05:002004-01-24T12:46:37.513-05:00

Yes, that's right...a rant. People, for the most part (THANK GOD) have stopped asking me about getting another cat. Or better yet, INFORMING me that I should get another one. When I first put Reggie to sleep, they were all but dragging me to the SPCA. I am not ready to get another cat. I have my reasons. I'm not going to list them, because basically, that's not the important thing. The

catpersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16969178749310096875noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6263712.post-1074830937903197842004-01-22T22:53:00.000-05:002004-01-22T23:17:48.543-05:00

Sometimes, something ends up being a gift, long after you give or receive it, in ways you can't even predict. This particular gift came from my 4 1/2-year-old niece. Almost two years ago, when her little sister was born, I went out to Chicago to help my my brother and sister-in-law with the new baby. Now when S. was born, "helping" meant helping with HER, as she was the only baby in the house.

catpersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16969178749310096875noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6263712.post-1074577943990165482004-01-20T00:49:00.000-05:002004-01-20T01:34:15.653-05:00

I was chosen today I'm learning to fly the world took me away but please don't you cry and I chose you today to try to be strong so please don't you cry don't say that I'm gone when you're feeling alone remember our love I'm up in the stars looking down from above remember our love in a moment you'll see that I'm still here beside you when you're thinking of me shared on petloss.com

catpersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16969178749310096875noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6263712.post-1074313641554598742004-01-16T23:19:00.000-05:002004-01-16T23:30:56.483-05:00

Today, I had new windows put in in my apartment. Now, what that meant was that I spent HOURS last night moving things: taking down a hundred books, candle holders, pictures and the like from one of the shelving units, everything from the shelves above the computer, yadda, yadda. It also meant I had to move Reggie's, um, memorial. See, the window sill in my bedroom is almost a foot wide, and it

catpersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16969178749310096875noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6263712.post-1074231696216425342004-01-16T00:35:00.000-05:002004-01-16T00:44:30.310-05:00

From my other blog, circa 12/26/03: Today, when I went to pick up the ashes, I brought the staff of my vet Ilini bars, which are my signature dessert. They asked to see pictures of ZK, which I showed them, and we were chatting for a while. I was petting the house cat, a beautiful, soft, 4yo calico. And, although they don't have "appointments" in the afternoon, someone came to pick up their dog..

catpersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16969178749310096875noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6263712.post-1074222781829960412004-01-15T21:55:00.000-05:002004-01-16T00:36:56.733-05:00

In 1993, after moving out from the roommate that had the huge orange Persian cat, I decided I wanted a cat of my own. I wanted to do it right. For me, that meant save money, read books on kitten and cat care, and go to the pound a few times, shop around, until it was EXACTLY right. Then, adopt a kitten. (*Note: I was, at that time, apparently the only one unaware of my obsessive-compulsive

catpersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16969178749310096875noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6263712.post-1074120818059768292004-01-14T17:43:00.000-05:002004-01-14T18:51:32.013-05:00

I went to the Pet Loss Support group last night. It was about an hour away. it was at the home of two of the members, who on Monday had to put one of their dogs to sleep. He was 16. When I rang the doorbell, I heard a rush of barking, and a person saying, "Hope you like dogs!" before they opened the door. A little late to tell me, no? Good thing I do. I was greeted by a motley crew: two Pugs (

catpersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16969178749310096875noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6263712.post-1073967695602407192004-01-12T23:16:00.000-05:002004-01-12T23:22:19.376-05:00

So I found a support group, I think here (or maybe here.not sure) and they meet monthly. They were scheduled to meet tomorrow night. Now, they meet near DC (about 50 minutes away), and they are not associated with any particular organization. Just a group who got together about a year ago (not sure how), and meet monthly. I thought this would be helpful, and there isn't one in Baltimore :( So

catpersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16969178749310096875noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6263712.post-1073708181118083022004-01-09T23:12:00.000-05:002004-01-09T23:20:34.726-05:00

I went to Dan's tonight, for Chinese and a DVD. But really, I went because he has two cats, one of them extremely skittish (Smokey), one who is friendly with anyone who walks in the door (Phantom). And, just after I put Reggie to sleep, Dan extended an open invitation for me to come "see the boys." So after chowing down, we settled on the couch to watch Legally Blonde 2. And Phantom, a

catpersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16969178749310096875noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6263712.post-1073535418319582612004-01-07T23:07:00.000-05:002004-01-07T23:17:18.130-05:00

I hated cats until about 11 years ago or so. My paternal grandmother once sat on a cat. It happened long before I was born, but family folklore is strong. I don't even remember the first time I heard the story, but it wasn't the story that was conveyed: it was Grandma's FEELING about the incident. Apparently there was a lot of screaming and hissing and scratching. She wouldn't go into a HOUSE

catpersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16969178749310096875noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6263712.post-1073451736200554212004-01-06T23:58:00.000-05:002004-01-09T17:36:23.740-05:00

Week before last, I called J., and said: "DO NOT GET ME A NEW KITTY." He laughed. "I'm serious," I said. "If there ever was anyone who would get me a kitty without telling me, it would be you." "I'm not getting you a kitty, Zenchick," he said, a slight tone of exasperation lacing his words. "Until I tell you I'm ready...DON'T DO IT!! I'm serious," I said. "Okay, okay," he said..."unless...I mean,

catpersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16969178749310096875noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6263712.post-1073418048339559602004-01-06T14:34:00.000-05:002004-01-06T14:42:33.850-05:00

Note: this is posted on both blogs. People keep asking if I’m going to get a new cat, and if so when. And the answer in my head is “I DON’T KNOW LEAVE ME ALONE I CAN DECIDE FOR MYSELF I’M NOT READY SHUT UP GO AWAY.” Of course, I smile demurely at the person rather than express that out loud. I guess I have decided that Reggie will send me her successor. BACKSTORY: I have written about my

catpersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16969178749310096875noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6263712.post-1073367968640514142004-01-06T00:41:00.000-05:002004-01-06T00:49:29.020-05:00

I'm going to post some things from my my other blog from just after losing Reggie...rather than reocunting all of it. From the week after... ...got a card from the vet today. The message was handwritten: "Our pets enrich our lives with their unconditional love and loyalty. this loss creates an emptiness. May memories of Reggie (aka Zen Kitty) bring a quick smile to your face and warmth into

catpersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16969178749310096875noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6263712.post-1073277890204179652004-01-04T23:36:00.000-05:002004-01-05T00:06:21.206-05:00

I realized today that this is truly my first pet loss. We got our first dog when I was 10; a Yorkshire Terrier. He maxed out at 4 pounds. My mom's friend used to refer to him as a "goldfish with hair." :-) His name was Holland's Wee Wallace (purebreed, you know)..."Wally." When I was 20, and in college, I went away for spring break. I came back to school and called my parents, who told me that

catpersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16969178749310096875noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6263712.post-1073191144587945942004-01-03T23:20:00.000-05:002004-01-04T00:07:31.356-05:00

I have much else to process, so I figured I'd get the rest of the story out: The day she was admitted to the vet, he called and said that the only abnormality in her blood work was elevated pancreatic enzymes. This, he said, could either be from pancreatitis or inflammatory bowel disease (and he was wondering if the episode last year was that very thing, since the previous incompetent vet didn't

catpersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16969178749310096875noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6263712.post-1073079894757091442004-01-02T16:40:00.000-05:002004-01-02T17:39:00.340-05:00

So, Reggie completely recovered from both her exploratory surgery and subsequent hernia repair. And I looooooved the new vet, trusted his competence, and felt comfortable with him. The week before Thanksgiving, I noticed that she was shaking her head excessively, and scratching her left ear an awful lot. I took a peek in there a few times (which was NOT authorized, and quite vocally so), but

catpersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16969178749310096875noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6263712.post-1072987314787039392004-01-01T14:57:00.000-05:002004-01-01T15:07:42.766-05:00

I was driving home just now, and got a feeling, one that I've had for years but wasn't aware of until now, since I put her to sleep. When I first noticed it, I realized that it's always been there, I just never noticed. It was a "oh, I'm going to see Reggie soon," a looking forward to coming home to my baby. She would always be meowing when I walked through the building door downstairs, whining

catpersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16969178749310096875noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6263712.post-1072848846872494812003-12-31T00:33:00.000-05:002003-12-31T00:36:08.340-05:00

check this out. Good for a few tears, if you're a cat person, or you've ever loved a pet. Myself, right now, I like these kitty tear-jerkers. :-)

catpersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16969178749310096875noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6263712.post-1072824018065309152003-12-30T17:31:00.000-05:002003-12-30T17:40:35.343-05:00

...So I guess I should start with what happened. Reggie was never sick a day in her life until she was about 9 1/2, just over a year ago. The week before Thanksgiving, she began to throw up within 10 minutes of every time she ate. I took her to the vet, heretofore a place she only went annually to get her shots. They took blood, and it was normal. But she kept throwing up. Mind you, she acted

catpersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16969178749310096875noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6263712.post-1072792951215035802003-12-30T09:00:00.000-05:002003-12-30T09:02:48.913-05:00

I decided to create this solely for the purpose of writing about my experience of losing my precious kitty. I have another blog, Musings from the Lotus Position. The intention of this blog is simply for me to write about my loss, and heal.

catpersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16969178749310096875noreply@blogger.com