Dear Coat Manufacturers (Everywhere):
For the love of Pete, will you please make coats with well-sewn buttons? I mean, honestly.
Listen, I know you can't possibly imagine how many times a person can get out of their car and actually HOOK the button on the inside of the driver's door, nor could you anticipate when someone (such as myself) might buy a coat that just(barely)fits and wear the goddamn thing anyway, because you feel funky and cool in it, even though the simple act of taking a sip of coffee some morning might snap the back buttoned thing off in its tracks, but fergodsake, I am a repellent to buttons over here, and if the 2 year old in your sweatshop can't sew a button tightly you should imprison her whole family.
Because I never remember where I put them for safekeeping,
Salome
p.s. When I die, I will be remembered as the lady that had "many random buttons in schizophrenic proliferation among personal belongings." And it will be all your fault. Please call Larry King and explain my life.
Dear Unfathomable Multi-Locale Breakout,
We've already been through this. Listen, sebum glands. I've had it. If you freak the fuck out three days before an important meeting ONE MORE TIME.....I'm going to plunge my face into a bath of pure glycol. I KNOW it is an important meeting. I was up until 3am last night, wasn't I? I'm well aware of the general all-purpose FREAKOUT going on in my brain. I would expect YOU of all body processes to give me some support. You must be friends with the Sudden-Unexplained-Alarming-Bloat. I hope you're proud of yourself. Big Important Meeting meets Fat Teenager with Lack of Sleep Twitch. Nice.
Alarmingly Using The CAPS LOCK,
Salome
Dear Pet Products Store Catered to Soft Hearts Like Me,
Do you really have to be so expensive? Listen, I'm not so infatuated that I don't know that all the products I buy are because I think a domesticated animal is a human family member. But listen, they are, she is, and I CARE. If they need me, I AM HERE. Even though I have the most pampered and coddled cats since Egypt, I still look for ways to liquidate my savings. But $42 EACH for the pheromone thing that MIGHT make Lucy stop stalking everything in the house and Leo stop peeing on my dirty laundry? That is outrageous. The new brush I bought because their old brush is, well, old? Highway Robbery. $10 a month per cat for the Prozac that will allow these freakazoids to just FUCKING CHILL FOR A MOMENT WITH ALL THE DRAMA, COULD WE PLEASE? Unbelievable. You are sucking me dry.
When I Die, I Want to Come Back As My Cat,
Salome
Dear Finny,
My dear. My darling boy. You are still gone. I know you're not coming back. And I can just about type this without breaking open like the fury and pain of the sea when it hits the shore with intent to kill and spatters into mist. Just about. I am profound with the lack of you. I was at Petco tonight, honey. At the place where the cats who need homes are, my heart raced and my spirits soared, if only just to find you. If only just to see you now, seven long and heartbreaking months, and scoop you up and say FINALLY. Finally, honey you're home, and everything that happened we will laugh about, at night when you and I curl up in bed and we are mom and boy. Today I gave your favorite toy to the stray that my heart wouldn't let me hold out on. She liked it, but not like you did. She won't bring me the felt lightning bolt with the bell I painstakingly sewed on it, drop it in my lap to say, "Here. Throw this, I feel like playing. I feel like chasing this and bringing it back to you so you can throw it again and then we'll be having fun together." I cried about you on New Year's Eve. I had cold medicine and then tequila and then champagne and all of a sudden I was all red-face and snot, crying to Lakshmi about you. You are just a cat, I know, but I am just a human, and you brought my life so much light. When you left, or died, or were taken, joy just stopped for me. I am trying to coax it back, but this house is filthy with memories of you. I can't go in the garden, it breaks my heart. I can't stop stopping in my tracks when something reminds me of you, and it is like you just went missing. I can't let you go, little man, my heart won't let me.
Be Safe and Please Don't Ever Forget That I Love You, That I Always Did and Always Will,
Mom
Showing posts with label Finny. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Finny. Show all posts
Friday, January 11, 2008
Tuesday, September 04, 2007
Hope Springs Eternally Crushing
A lady posted an ad on Craigslist Lost and Found on Monday stating that she has found a colony of stray cats in South Seattle. Three of the cats look feral, but one cat, a large orange and white tabby, looked like a lost pet. She said this cat would come close to people, but be started away by any loud noise.
I emailed her immediately and sent a picture of Finny. She called while I was out and told JP where to find the cat colony, complete with makeshift shelter and food area.
The area is about 4 miles N of where we leave. Stretching the bounds of possibility, but not impossible.
Nothing is impossible.
We went there last night and only saw two of the four cats she's seen there, and neither was the orange and white cat.
Tonight we went back, a little later, a little more towards dusk. As we approached, the Pope said, look there...
I looked, and behind a fenced area sat a cat that was almost identical to Finny. ALMOST. And no matter how long I stared, or hoped, or wished, it wasn't Finny. There was an orange spot on this cat's nose.
"Orange Spot?" I asked the Pope, "Or an injury?? Maybe it is blood, and it will wipe right off and underneath that cat will be Finny."
Because it is possible that Finny shrank a couple of inches, and grew fatter, and that his face shape changed, or that the white markings on his face have retreated below his eye level.
How can it be that there are two cats that look so much alike and yet THIS one, THIS FOUND ONE, is NOT my little man?
BECAUSE WHY IS IT MY WORLD THAT HAS TO BE BROKEN, THAT CANNOT BE FIXED?
It wasn't Finny. And my heart, which had swelled up so large it almost broke open my ribs, deflated again.
He is still out there. And he is either lost, dead, taken or (and maybe in all cases) never coming home.
And the world just wants me crushed.
We left a bunch of food for the cats, because even in my broken and banged up world, all cats have someone who loves them.
I emailed her immediately and sent a picture of Finny. She called while I was out and told JP where to find the cat colony, complete with makeshift shelter and food area.
The area is about 4 miles N of where we leave. Stretching the bounds of possibility, but not impossible.
Nothing is impossible.
We went there last night and only saw two of the four cats she's seen there, and neither was the orange and white cat.
Tonight we went back, a little later, a little more towards dusk. As we approached, the Pope said, look there...
I looked, and behind a fenced area sat a cat that was almost identical to Finny. ALMOST. And no matter how long I stared, or hoped, or wished, it wasn't Finny. There was an orange spot on this cat's nose.
"Orange Spot?" I asked the Pope, "Or an injury?? Maybe it is blood, and it will wipe right off and underneath that cat will be Finny."
Because it is possible that Finny shrank a couple of inches, and grew fatter, and that his face shape changed, or that the white markings on his face have retreated below his eye level.
How can it be that there are two cats that look so much alike and yet THIS one, THIS FOUND ONE, is NOT my little man?
BECAUSE WHY IS IT MY WORLD THAT HAS TO BE BROKEN, THAT CANNOT BE FIXED?
It wasn't Finny. And my heart, which had swelled up so large it almost broke open my ribs, deflated again.
He is still out there. And he is either lost, dead, taken or (and maybe in all cases) never coming home.
And the world just wants me crushed.
We left a bunch of food for the cats, because even in my broken and banged up world, all cats have someone who loves them.
Saturday, September 01, 2007
Carl Jung, I Need Your Help
I've been dreaming of Finny for the last few weeks.
For the last two or three weeks, every other day I would dream that Finny came home. I would dream him in vivid orange, and he would walk through the cat door and say Hi, like he used to.
Or I would dream that he would be in our house when we got home from Cancun (at least three times while on vacation).
Last night (I've just woken up) I dreamed that he came home while I was in the house, getting ready for bed.
He was filthy, thin and skittish. It didn't matter, I curled up next to him on the bed and kissed and hugged him until he fell asleep, exhausted.
And then things got weird. When I woke up (in the dream) I had to go to a hotel for meetings about Scotland. I went to the meetings, which were all about getting people together in a room and then the meeting would abruptly end. I was ALWAYS smoking a cigarette in the dream, and always put it out under the table as soon as my boss appeared, because he HATES smokers.
Somewhere in the middle of this I went to the vet, to make sure Finny was okay, he'd had some stomach seizures in the night, and I wanted to help him be well.
I had Finny in a carrier and we were in line. I explained to the vet that this was urgent, that he'd been missing for three months, and needed to be seen NOW, because anything he had he'd had for months, and we needed to help him. HELP HIM, RIGHT NOW, I shouted, and I was crying in the dream.
They couldn't see him at that moment, but they let me put him into a waiting room. But the waiting room had an opening in the bottom of the door, and Finny kept running out. I didn't want to traumatize him (because maybe he'd decided to leave me for good this time) and so I took him back home in the cat carrier. I did notice that sometime during the night he'd cleaned himself and was no longer filthy with mud.
Then I went back to the vets later that night, but forgot to bring Finny in his carrier.
BY THE WAY - the entire time in real life, my husband is snoring. I kept waking up to yell at him to turn over, and then quickly went back to sleep so I wouldn't miss anything. Finally, at 8:00am this morning, I got up and stomped over to the guest bed so I could dream in peace. As I type this, he is still snoring, he has no shame.
So I'm back at the vets and I forgot to bring Finny! I'm devastated, and all the vets are sitting around a board room table, waiting to examine Finny. It is like a convention of Vets, all the best ones in one place, and I've forgotten Finny!
I make an appointment for the next morning and go back to my ridiculous series of meetings in the hotels.
The next day I get Finny from home and he is now pure white. Instead of bright orange with a white face, chest and paws, he is solid white.
As I'm taking him to the vet, and as I'm at the vets, his orange begins to appear on his shoulders, back and head.
I wake up before the vets tell me what is going on, but the whole time, I'm looking at this white cat, and thinking, this isn't Finny, but then I look in his eyes, and he nuzzles up to me, and I know it really is.
I wish that these dreams meant my little guy was coming home soon. I still really miss him and think about him probably too much. I wish that you could just wish for things and they would happen.
Not for the first time in my life, I wish I could go back to a specific place in time, and do something differently, like shut the cat door on that Monday, May 14th and not let them out that day.
For the last two or three weeks, every other day I would dream that Finny came home. I would dream him in vivid orange, and he would walk through the cat door and say Hi, like he used to.
Or I would dream that he would be in our house when we got home from Cancun (at least three times while on vacation).
Last night (I've just woken up) I dreamed that he came home while I was in the house, getting ready for bed.
He was filthy, thin and skittish. It didn't matter, I curled up next to him on the bed and kissed and hugged him until he fell asleep, exhausted.
And then things got weird. When I woke up (in the dream) I had to go to a hotel for meetings about Scotland. I went to the meetings, which were all about getting people together in a room and then the meeting would abruptly end. I was ALWAYS smoking a cigarette in the dream, and always put it out under the table as soon as my boss appeared, because he HATES smokers.
Somewhere in the middle of this I went to the vet, to make sure Finny was okay, he'd had some stomach seizures in the night, and I wanted to help him be well.
I had Finny in a carrier and we were in line. I explained to the vet that this was urgent, that he'd been missing for three months, and needed to be seen NOW, because anything he had he'd had for months, and we needed to help him. HELP HIM, RIGHT NOW, I shouted, and I was crying in the dream.
They couldn't see him at that moment, but they let me put him into a waiting room. But the waiting room had an opening in the bottom of the door, and Finny kept running out. I didn't want to traumatize him (because maybe he'd decided to leave me for good this time) and so I took him back home in the cat carrier. I did notice that sometime during the night he'd cleaned himself and was no longer filthy with mud.
Then I went back to the vets later that night, but forgot to bring Finny in his carrier.
BY THE WAY - the entire time in real life, my husband is snoring. I kept waking up to yell at him to turn over, and then quickly went back to sleep so I wouldn't miss anything. Finally, at 8:00am this morning, I got up and stomped over to the guest bed so I could dream in peace. As I type this, he is still snoring, he has no shame.
So I'm back at the vets and I forgot to bring Finny! I'm devastated, and all the vets are sitting around a board room table, waiting to examine Finny. It is like a convention of Vets, all the best ones in one place, and I've forgotten Finny!
I make an appointment for the next morning and go back to my ridiculous series of meetings in the hotels.
The next day I get Finny from home and he is now pure white. Instead of bright orange with a white face, chest and paws, he is solid white.
As I'm taking him to the vet, and as I'm at the vets, his orange begins to appear on his shoulders, back and head.
I wake up before the vets tell me what is going on, but the whole time, I'm looking at this white cat, and thinking, this isn't Finny, but then I look in his eyes, and he nuzzles up to me, and I know it really is.
I wish that these dreams meant my little guy was coming home soon. I still really miss him and think about him probably too much. I wish that you could just wish for things and they would happen.
Not for the first time in my life, I wish I could go back to a specific place in time, and do something differently, like shut the cat door on that Monday, May 14th and not let them out that day.
Saturday, May 19, 2007
What is the Hardest
It isn't so much the worry, although I am worried, very worried, worried to tears, and from tears to headaches and from headaches to tequila and to a blissful, ignorant sleep.
It is the hope.
Hope kills me on a regular basis. It breaks my heart like the first time my heart broke, every time I come home and look expectantly at all his places. It breaks my heart while I daydream stunning rescues while I'm at work and then come home to nothing.
Today my heart broke when I looked at his favorite toy.
Then it broke again when I tried to garden, and tossed weeds that he normally would have chased, pounced on, and then dragged with him for a bit.
I'm going to get in an accident, because near my house I don't look at road ahead. I look at the roadsides, hoping yet not hoping that I see a flash of his fur.
I go on Petfinder and the LOST sites, trying to find someone who has him on their site, up for adoption, and I will speed over there and say, this is my baby. Give me my baby back.
I get an email from a lady asking if my cat has a orange mark on his face and even though he doesn't, I get all excited and email her a picture of Finny that shows a closeup of his face. She hasn't responded.
I look under the deck again for the 30th time, and I sit really still in the garden, listening for a quiet and desperate meow.
Finny, the irises are blooming now. And you would have liked that.
The birds are getting daring, they must know that you are away.
Finny, my heart is breaking every minute of every day. And I'm so sad without you.
Finny, the house just isn't the same without you. And your sister won't leave my side, even for a second, and I love her dearly but am so angry with her. Why didn't she save you? Why didn't she fight? She is meaner than the rest of us put together. She could kill with looks alone, and now you are gone and she isn't even looking for you. She just meows at me and sits with me and sleeps right between my legs, like everything is normal, like the whole world wasn't just tipped on its side and emptied into my heart.
Like the worst that could have happened didn't just happen.
Finny, this is the worst that could have happened to me. The worst thing ever.
And I love you so dearly, little man. I love you love you love you so dearly.
It is the hope.
Hope kills me on a regular basis. It breaks my heart like the first time my heart broke, every time I come home and look expectantly at all his places. It breaks my heart while I daydream stunning rescues while I'm at work and then come home to nothing.
Today my heart broke when I looked at his favorite toy.
Then it broke again when I tried to garden, and tossed weeds that he normally would have chased, pounced on, and then dragged with him for a bit.
I'm going to get in an accident, because near my house I don't look at road ahead. I look at the roadsides, hoping yet not hoping that I see a flash of his fur.
I go on Petfinder and the LOST sites, trying to find someone who has him on their site, up for adoption, and I will speed over there and say, this is my baby. Give me my baby back.
I get an email from a lady asking if my cat has a orange mark on his face and even though he doesn't, I get all excited and email her a picture of Finny that shows a closeup of his face. She hasn't responded.
I look under the deck again for the 30th time, and I sit really still in the garden, listening for a quiet and desperate meow.
Finny, the irises are blooming now. And you would have liked that.
The birds are getting daring, they must know that you are away.
Finny, my heart is breaking every minute of every day. And I'm so sad without you.
Finny, the house just isn't the same without you. And your sister won't leave my side, even for a second, and I love her dearly but am so angry with her. Why didn't she save you? Why didn't she fight? She is meaner than the rest of us put together. She could kill with looks alone, and now you are gone and she isn't even looking for you. She just meows at me and sits with me and sleeps right between my legs, like everything is normal, like the whole world wasn't just tipped on its side and emptied into my heart.
Like the worst that could have happened didn't just happen.
Finny, this is the worst that could have happened to me. The worst thing ever.
And I love you so dearly, little man. I love you love you love you so dearly.
Thursday, May 17, 2007
Ah My Broken Heart
Finny, if you are still out there, there are a few things I need to tell you.
I love you. I have loved you since the moment I saw you and took you in my arms.
I looked down at you, you looked up at me, and that was it. I was your mom. And you were my baby.
I have loved every single minute of every single moment you were around me.
Even when you drove me crazy waking me up several times in the morning, I knew it was just because you wanted to hang out. Or have me let you out. Or have me feed you.
You did the funniest things. You said HI to us each time you came in the door.
You got spooked at plastic bags (because of that one time you got stuck in one when you were a baby).
You liked to have me rub your face for hours at night. I rubbed your face for hours. You curled into the cat condo even when you outgrew it, even when all we could see by looking in was a face and a tangle of feet.
You got lost that one time in the blackberry bushes? And I was on the other side picking berries, and you cried and cried and I kept saying, You're OK, You're OK, follow my voice Finny, and you followed my voice until I led you out of them. You were such a good helper in the garden. You helped us so much whenever we did anything. We miss your help, honey.
You used to run around the house at a full gallop, and then stop short and flick your tail, so happy with the speed and the space you had. You made me laugh out loud on a daily basis. You brought me dead things all the time, and I am so proud of your hunting prowess. You used to let Lucy lick you the wrong way against the growth of your fur, and you let her do this for minutes before you bit her, and honestly I would have bitten her much sooner. You got so big and still you were so loving. You would shove your face into Lucy and Leo's necks so that they could love you, and honestly they were terrified to do anything else, you were that big and rambunctious.
You climbed on everything - even the counters. You are the cutest cat I've ever seen.
I knew that there was a danger in letting you roam so freely. But it made you so happy, and I would do anything to make you happy.
Honey, I've looked everywhere. I've called your name for miles. I've put posters everywhere. I call the hotlines obsessively throughout the day. I really tried, honey. I miss you so much, and my heart is so broken. And if I knew where you were, I'd come there right now. No matter what. No matter what.
Finny, you were such a good boy. You were a very very very good boy.
And I loved you so much. And I'm so sorry I let you down and couldn't protect you from everything.
And I am so so so sorry I can't find you. I tried, baby. Honestly, I did everything I could.
Everyone is so worried about you. Everyone loves you so much. I just want you to know that you were/are? the best cat I've ever had, and I am just wrecked by this. I am just so truly and completely wrecked by this.
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Woof
Tonight on a brief, rant-filled conversation with my parents I said something about how my cats have had to defend their territory against invading neighbor cats.
(It's true, there are a couple new cats in the 'hood, and our door flap broke, so we're OPEN all the time over here at Chez Pope N' Sal. The cats have the nerve to actually come in the door and walk all nonchalant into the house. Sends Lucy into a caterwauling fit, she makes sounds that could probably bend metal. Finny goes apeshit and careens off everything in his path on his way to the door - he does this, you see, because he's running while turned sideways and that is really hard to do)
So I mention this to my parents and my dad says,
"Do they know that Finny is the size of a goddamned dog??"
And the answer to that is:
They do now.
(It's true, there are a couple new cats in the 'hood, and our door flap broke, so we're OPEN all the time over here at Chez Pope N' Sal. The cats have the nerve to actually come in the door and walk all nonchalant into the house. Sends Lucy into a caterwauling fit, she makes sounds that could probably bend metal. Finny goes apeshit and careens off everything in his path on his way to the door - he does this, you see, because he's running while turned sideways and that is really hard to do)
So I mention this to my parents and my dad says,
"Do they know that Finny is the size of a goddamned dog??"
And the answer to that is:
They do now.
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
Worse.
What's worse than finding little dead rodents every so often on your living room, dining room, bedroom, hallway floors?
What's worse?
WHAT'S WORSE?
Feathers.
Lots and lots of feathers.
Covering the hallway.
And then a teensy bird wing, separated at the joint.
And...
Nothing else.
Even though you searched the entire goddamned house looking for a bird carcass.
Sigh.
Dear Eensy Baby Bird,
I'm so sorry. I swear to God I'm going to get that little guy a bell.
Love,
Finny's Mom
p.s. Please, if you are dead and under the bed or something, send your ghost or stink early.
What's worse?
WHAT'S WORSE?
Feathers.
Lots and lots of feathers.
Covering the hallway.
And then a teensy bird wing, separated at the joint.
And...
Nothing else.
Even though you searched the entire goddamned house looking for a bird carcass.
Sigh.
Dear Eensy Baby Bird,
I'm so sorry. I swear to God I'm going to get that little guy a bell.
Love,
Finny's Mom
p.s. Please, if you are dead and under the bed or something, send your ghost or stink early.
Monday, January 22, 2007
Note to Self
When you leave for work in the morning, and you look back and think to yourself, "Hmm. Looks like the cats are really low on food...." you should walk back into the house and feed them.
You should NOT walk out and think that maybe now they'll eat all the food they've spilled on the mats, and save you the trouble of cleaning it.
No.
You should go back into that house and feed the cats.
Because if you don't......
FINNY WILL GET TAKE-OUT.
Dear poor rodent thing. I'm sorry my boy was hungry. I'm sorry he flattened you to a pancake. I'm REALLY sorry for the unsophisticated way I tossed you into the ravine.
I'm sorry for so many things.
But mostly I'm sorry I didn't feed the fucking cats.
You should NOT walk out and think that maybe now they'll eat all the food they've spilled on the mats, and save you the trouble of cleaning it.
No.
You should go back into that house and feed the cats.
Because if you don't......
FINNY WILL GET TAKE-OUT.
Dear poor rodent thing. I'm sorry my boy was hungry. I'm sorry he flattened you to a pancake. I'm REALLY sorry for the unsophisticated way I tossed you into the ravine.
I'm sorry for so many things.
But mostly I'm sorry I didn't feed the fucking cats.
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