Well, it’s been almost 2 years since you’ve died. We all miss you so very much. & since in my dreams you’re alive every night, it’s like every morning you die all over again. There’s been a lot of changes necessitated by your death. I hope you’re ok with how I’ve done things. I’m doing the best I can to take care of everybody & keep it together.
I had to move myself, & had to rehome 3 of the cats. I got Miss Pooky & Kobie adopted together by a nice lady & her daughter. They’re cat ladies like us & they love their cats & spoil them rotten. They even use the same vet as us. Surprisingly Miss Pooky adjusted right away. It took Kobie a little while longer, but since she still had Miss Pooky & since they are both very loved by the nice lady, she didn’t take too long to settle in. Broccoli is still at Clay County Animal Shelter, but I talked to the people today about her while I was at PetSmart, and they all love her so much. They say she’s spoiled & gets lots of love and pets and cuddles, and they’re going to find just the right home for her. But in the meantime she gets lots of love and affection. The three people at PetSmart from Clay County knew all about her so she’s making an impression with her affectionate nature. They commented that they got her “pre-spoiled”. One of the ladies talked about her beautiful eyes. So it’s comforting at least to know that those three are very loved, even if it’s no longer me doing the loving. We all miss them all very much.
Of the other 3, Freddiecat has not handled the move well. The people upstairs make an unbelievable amount of noise, stomping around. Are they holding giant’s wrestling matches or an elephants bowling league up there? They actually knocked a picture off my wall Thanksgiving Day, with the vibrations and shaking from their pounding their floor. I wouldn’t be surprised if sometime chunks of ceiling fell down upon me because of them. (They also toss their cigarette butts and food waste everywhere, so that the areas around my front & back doors would resemble a landfill if I didn’t constantly pick up their garbage & put it in the dumpster. Awful low-class crude people. Ew.)
Anyway, the noise has caused problems for Freddiecat, making him very nervous. He hides under the bed. Then he started sometimes having diarrhea. But not every day. And then the diarrhea was less, and he started vomiting. But not every day. Most of his incidents would happen shortly after especially noisy times from the trash upstairs. I tried various types of gentle & sensitive systems foods. Probiotics. Prebiotics. Took him to the vet. The vet prescribed a pheromone diffuser to help relax him. That has helped. He prescribed anti-emetics. They helped some. I got some special bowls so they won’t gulp down their food & then immediately puke it back up. (Because he still has an appetite. Often after he vomits, after a few minutes he’s eating again.) Finally the vet put him on antidepressants. That has been the most successful so far. So the people upstairs are so awful that I hafta give My CAT antidepressants. Shitty low class trash!
Pickleson is fine. Outgoing and curious as always. Calm and loyal and mellow. Caprica has also dealt with everything pretty well. The frog looks skinnier than it did before. Maybe the water’s different. It smells fishier to me. Once it was cut off because of a cave collapse near the processing plant. IDK.
I miss you very much. It still doesn’t feel like you’re dead. It still feels like you’re still on your way home & I can’t wait to tell you this or that interesting tidbit of information. And every night you’re alive again when I sleep.
I may hafta have surgery. Austin says he’ll take care of the cats for me while I’m in the hospital. I do think about the possibility, however remote, that I might die during or shortly after. That I might follow wherever you go. In reality I don’t believe in God or reincarnation or any afterlife. I believe that the body is flesh that is repurposed when the heart stops, the lungs stop, the brain stops. The meat is transformed, either by rotting, being eaten, or being used in some other way, & the person that used to be there is no longer attached. Where does that person go? Or, where did that person come from in the first place? IDK.
The idea of meeting up with Smacky is very tempting, tantalizing. But I believe I too will cease to exist. Like a painting destroyed by fire, you might have a photo, but mostly what you have is the memory of that painting. & when you die even the memory is gone with you.
I’m ok with ceasing to exist. It means no more worry, no more fear, no more coveting. True nirvana, in the classic sense. Disillusion of self.
But in the meantime, you, Smacky, are almost right next to me every day. It just doesn’t feel like you’re dead. & I’m ok with that too.
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