Wednesday, August 15, 2012
Sunday, August 12, 2012
Death of a Pet
When someone you love dies, be it a pet or a human, you grieve.
Today we lost my beloved cat, Caitlin. I had raised her from kittenhood and took her through 12 years of her life. Last year, around this time, she stopped eating. I poured food and milk down her throat and bullied her back into fighting shape. For a year, she was back to herself. She bullied Tiger, she bullied our dog, she hogged all the food. Not bad for a cat who barely weighed five pounds at her top weight. Then, last week, I got worried. She wasn't eating much anymore.
This time, there was no saving her. I tried. Since Thursday, I made her drink, I made her eat, but at the end, she was barely moving, stiff, and cold. Last night, when I held her, she tried to purr at me, and I knew for certain that this was it. She was leaving.
I've done this before. I am a veteran pet owner. The downside of the loving is the losing. I try to explain that to Little Guy, who struggles right now with the concept of death and "gone forever." This is his first real experience with it, and he's reacting the way a six year old does. This is painful, this is sad, and that means this is something to be avoided. If you ask him if he's sad, he'll tell you no. If you ask him why he cries, he'll tell you he's not even as the tears are falling down his face.
He wants to get a new cat, something I think to distract from the pain. We told him that wasn't going to happen for a while. We needed to grieve for Caitlin. A new cat could not replace Caitlin; it would simply be a new cat. I'm going the whole "It's OK to miss her. It's OK to be sad. That shows that you loved her."
I lie to him too. I tell him that everything is OK. I think that's a lie all parents tell their kids when it comes to death and dying. Because, let's face it. It's not OK. It won't be OK for a while. Someone we loved died. It hurts. It is, however, a fact of life. It will take time for things to get back to normal. I just opened a can of cat food for our Tiger cat and started bawling.
*sigh*
Today we lost my beloved cat, Caitlin. I had raised her from kittenhood and took her through 12 years of her life. Last year, around this time, she stopped eating. I poured food and milk down her throat and bullied her back into fighting shape. For a year, she was back to herself. She bullied Tiger, she bullied our dog, she hogged all the food. Not bad for a cat who barely weighed five pounds at her top weight. Then, last week, I got worried. She wasn't eating much anymore.
This time, there was no saving her. I tried. Since Thursday, I made her drink, I made her eat, but at the end, she was barely moving, stiff, and cold. Last night, when I held her, she tried to purr at me, and I knew for certain that this was it. She was leaving.
I've done this before. I am a veteran pet owner. The downside of the loving is the losing. I try to explain that to Little Guy, who struggles right now with the concept of death and "gone forever." This is his first real experience with it, and he's reacting the way a six year old does. This is painful, this is sad, and that means this is something to be avoided. If you ask him if he's sad, he'll tell you no. If you ask him why he cries, he'll tell you he's not even as the tears are falling down his face.
He wants to get a new cat, something I think to distract from the pain. We told him that wasn't going to happen for a while. We needed to grieve for Caitlin. A new cat could not replace Caitlin; it would simply be a new cat. I'm going the whole "It's OK to miss her. It's OK to be sad. That shows that you loved her."
I lie to him too. I tell him that everything is OK. I think that's a lie all parents tell their kids when it comes to death and dying. Because, let's face it. It's not OK. It won't be OK for a while. Someone we loved died. It hurts. It is, however, a fact of life. It will take time for things to get back to normal. I just opened a can of cat food for our Tiger cat and started bawling.
*sigh*
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Life in a day
Watching the movie "Life in a Day
" is a good reminder of two things. 1 - We are all connected and 2 - Someone always has it worse. Everyone does what they can just to survive in some cases but they filmed their day because they were thankful for whatever life they have.
There are days when I am angry about the difficulties I've experienced, just as I am sure most people are. But then I look at my husband and son and I am reminded how wonderful even the gloomiest of times can be. It's good to see that I'm not the only one to realize it. Everyone across the world feels this way.
It's important, I think, to examine your life on a regular basis. I try to remember everything and take pictures as often as I can remember to document life. I also try to remember my mistakes, so I can avoid repeating them. As hippie as it sounds, I try to balance pragmatism with optimism, cynicism with trust. This is harder than it sounds for someone who possesses a dry, dark sense of humor.
Honestly, I love people, but I detest the lack of common sense I see displayed all the time. I love teaching and I adore my students. I find it shameful how badly our educational system has failed us though... I know this is a familiar rant. When I see how determined some of my students are, though, it gives me hope. And teaching reminds me how lucky I am. I am smart, clever and creative. I desperately hope to pass those traits on to my son.
So, I like movies that examine the human condition and reminds me that we all have similar hopes and fears, and we're capable of great things and capable of great failings... Sometimes in the same 24 hour period. And sometimes, the most amazing thing is simply that we exist, right here and now. We speak, we breathe, we communicate. No matter who you are, you matter. This truly is life.
" is a good reminder of two things. 1 - We are all connected and 2 - Someone always has it worse. Everyone does what they can just to survive in some cases but they filmed their day because they were thankful for whatever life they have. 
There are days when I am angry about the difficulties I've experienced, just as I am sure most people are. But then I look at my husband and son and I am reminded how wonderful even the gloomiest of times can be. It's good to see that I'm not the only one to realize it. Everyone across the world feels this way.
It's important, I think, to examine your life on a regular basis. I try to remember everything and take pictures as often as I can remember to document life. I also try to remember my mistakes, so I can avoid repeating them. As hippie as it sounds, I try to balance pragmatism with optimism, cynicism with trust. This is harder than it sounds for someone who possesses a dry, dark sense of humor.
Honestly, I love people, but I detest the lack of common sense I see displayed all the time. I love teaching and I adore my students. I find it shameful how badly our educational system has failed us though... I know this is a familiar rant. When I see how determined some of my students are, though, it gives me hope. And teaching reminds me how lucky I am. I am smart, clever and creative. I desperately hope to pass those traits on to my son.
So, I like movies that examine the human condition and reminds me that we all have similar hopes and fears, and we're capable of great things and capable of great failings... Sometimes in the same 24 hour period. And sometimes, the most amazing thing is simply that we exist, right here and now. We speak, we breathe, we communicate. No matter who you are, you matter. This truly is life.
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