Finally, they are together again. Be free kitty girl. Tell your brother I miss him.
I keep wondering when my life is going to slow down and I can relax…but I’m coming to the realization that life doesn’t slow down, not ever. You have to decide if you’re going to hang on for dear life like my “nephew” Drew clinging, white knuckled, to the pole on the carousel horse…or just hop off and hope you land on something soft to rest for awhile.
I again ventured into the murky depths of the basement of the Anderson house on Saturday to take things to the storage building on my Dad’s property in Georgia. Some of the stuff in there was almost obliterated by the flooding we had 2 years ago…and because I was too lazy (and too afraid of the basement, let’s be honest here) to survey all of the damage some of it was still sitting where it had been when “the rains came down and the floods came up.”
Dad came up to help haul stuff in my aunt’s truck, so that helped somewhat. Had I been forced to drive the Hound-a (my new name for my Element…okay, so I’m the only one that thinks it’s funny?) packed to the ceiling with musty clothes and slightly moldy-in-places boxes I would have been on the short track to the ER. As it was, though, with the really nasty stuff riding in the back of my aunt’s truck, I only suffered from an allergy attack that Benadryl made quick work of when I got home. By the way, if you’re allergic to those kinds of things and you have them in your car don’t turn the heat on full blast on your way home, I don’t care HOW cold you are. By the time I got to Scott’s to pick up the dogs I could barely see my eyes were so runny and itchy. In fact, my nose is STILL stopped up to some extent now, three days later.
I also got some work done on Kalyne’s costume on Saturday. We got everything except the sleeves cut out and all that needed to be fused to interfacing was so fused. She’s coming down this weekend so I can put it together and fit it on her rather than sewing and crossing my fingers that it works at the last minute.
Sunday was a blur…the dogs actually let me sleep a little late which was good…see, I took Claritin and Benadryl before I went to bed, so I was physically unable to get out of the bed before I’d slept the required 8 hours in a coma that Benadryl forces on me. At least it wasn’t as bad as the night last week where they woke me up to go out at about 3am, I let them out, opened the curtain so I could see them, and crawled back in the bed “just for a second while they are outside.” I woke up at 4:30 to Hunk frantically whining to come in. Bad bad bad Mommy.
Knuckleheads. I love them…they’ve kept my mind off the fact that I lost my best friend a week ago Saturday, my Zooey Boy. I guess now that it’s Monday it’s time to get off the soft thing I landed on yesterday and merge back into life at full speed, eh?
Monday again. I’m still trying to figure out when I’m going to wake up from the dream that was this past weekend.
Friday night is an absolute blur. I was going back and forth between playing on the computer and holding Zooey and crying my eyes out. Saturday morning was crazy…I went to the McDonald family gathering (Mom’s side, once every 3 months or so) at my parents’ place in Cleveland, Georgia after dropping Zooey off with Scott to go to the vet for the last time. Cried a little on the way down but not too much. “Car Talk” and “Whaddaya Know” kept me entertained and distracted.
At about 1pm I started fooling with Daddy’s computer to get set up to watch Daisy’s first official maiden race. My cousins Margaret and Kristen were there to watch with me and I think Margaret really enjoyed it!! Daisy didn’t do so well…you can read about it here.
After everyone left Daddy and I took a load of my stuff up to the storage building behind my grandmother’s house, I grabbed dinner with them and then headed home. Somehow things are always worse in the dark, and as I was hurtling down the mountain from Cleveland to Toccoa I was overtaken by sobs. I was so afraid that Zooey was not going to forgive me for breaking my promise to him…that I would figure out what was wrong with him and make him better.
Somewhere around Westminster, SC, I had a revelation. I did make him better. He didn’t hurt anymore. What I was feeling that was making me cry was just my own selfishness at wanting to have him around forever. I made it home by about 9:30 and played Everquest till I was falling out of my chair asleep.
Yesterday was another blur. Funny how only Saturday, the day he left, has any clarity. I know that I got some things done, I know that I slept a lot…but now it’s Monday again, first Monday without Zooey yodeling to me while I’m in the shower.
I guess I could encourage Mills to sing…
He was not my first choice out of the litter of kittens. His sister Franny, a grey tabby with a penchant for screaming at the top of her lungs was my first choice. In fact, I wouldn’t have ever had Zooey if it hadn’t been for her. When I went to collect her to take her with me to West Virginia (my internship was with the West Virginia Commission for the Deaf and Hard of Hearing) she ran around behind Zooey and cowered. Zooey, being the gregarious sort, meowed at me and purred when I came over to retrieve Franny. They didn’t even have names then…and we thought Franny was a boy…hard to tell on a three month old kitten that won’t really let you pick it up and investigate.
So I took both of them with me, figuring that this way my little grey screamer would have some company. They were tiny tiny tiny, and sat in my lap as I drove my old Ford Escort over the winding roads leading to my new home and our new life.
That was twelve years ago, in the summer of 1994.
Zooey is going on a new kind of journey tomorrow, one that I can’t share, at least not yet. He has been sick off and on for about three years now, and has been steadily losing weight. Two nights ago he looked me in the eye, straight in the eye, and I knew it was time…or rather, I knew my time had run out.
Zooey is my Tiny Man. He’s my Zoe-Boe. He would sing to me in the shower and could jump almost up to my waist chasing after a feather on the end of a stick. He could sit on command and if I said “Gopher” he would sit up on his hind legs for a treat. Zooey’s favorite foods were peanut butter, strawberry jam, strawberry pop tarts, strawberry nutri-grain bars (seeing a theme here?) and cheese. He never liked milk, and would rather chew on my hand than eat canned cat food.
I’m choosing to post this older picture of him because the cat sleeping in the chair behind me in the office now is not my Zooey. I’m not quite sure how I will get along without him. Twelve years is a long time to get used to having someone around.
I love you, Tiny Man. Rub your head on Lizzard’s legs for me and watch out for BoBo, he’ll probably feel like chasing you now. I won’t say goodbye to him…everytime I leave the house to go anywhere I tell my animals I love them, and I’ll see them soon.
See you soon, Zooey-Schmooey. See you soon.