Monday, January 09, 2006

I am good at what I do. I am good at listening to people and their stories and offering advice. Take it or leave it. That’s why I am interested in therapy and social work. However I have ran into one little man that I can’t seem to figure out how to help in anyway. Mostly, this is because of a large language barrier between the two of us. I speak English, and he…. Meows.Princess Poopy Paws is having some trouble adjusting to the life without our old man around. I know it has been only over 24 hours but you can tell that he is having problems. What are the signs? Well, there are a few glaring ones right away:

He won’t eat. Poopy paws is a small cat that weighs 13 pounds. He is a rolly polly, jabba the hut looking creature. The fact that he is refusing to eat is a major warning sign that there is kitty depression going on.

He won’t purr. Being the center of attecntion is one of the little guy’s favorite things. Usually he rolls on his back and purrs to get your attention. Then, with those bright blue eyes looking at you, taunting you to “love him”, he grins and comes over for a pet and a purr. He is the definition of “slut for attention”.He won’t come near our bed, or where our old man once slept. He will sit under it, under the cradle, or on my vanity stool and watch me on the bed, bet never on the bed.

Those perky blue eyes are now rather empty looking. He sits on his tower and stares at us on the couch. No sleeping up there, just watching. And it’s not the friendly, “when they aren’t looking I think I will attack their blankie” look. It’s one of quiet remorse. I have that look after death too.

No one can hold him. He is skitterish and runs away if you attempt to try to hold him.Last night he slept on the floor of our bedroom on a fallen body pillow. I joined him, to keep him company at about 5am. We just laid there, us two rolly pollies, and looked at each other until we were asleep again.

I figure all this is because he came out from under the crib in our Old man’s final moments and watched him die and me get hysterical. The bear wasn’t so great either, he cried as well but then took matters into the right hands and called the vet etc and got us ready to take gpa’s body to the all night vet for cremation. Poopy paws was scared, I am sure, to see us all in that state.How do you counsel a cat though? No way am I going to let the vet put him on Prozac, the cat is nutty enough as it is. I guess I will only have to wait and see what time says.How am I doing? With no old man to snuggle, the nights are hard and we cry a lot still. Days are easier, because there is more to do and less to think about. I called in sick to work today (I DON’T CARE WHAT THEY THINK!!!) and then called the vet to tell him of the gap man’s demise. The receptionist area was heartbroken. You could hear it in their voices. They knew Gpa by sight and name and history and all that jazz. We are going to send the vet a thank you card and a photo of grandpa. The caption of the photo reads, “Growing old ain’t for sissies”.

People keep asking me if I am going to get another cat. No. Not now. Too disrespectful to my man.Hurricane (formally known as BH) got my text when she pulled into civilization after doing her elk study for the weekend up in the hills in New Mexico. She pulled over in a McDonald’s parking lot and called me immediately to chat. Couldn’t hear her too well (the ears are improving by the way. Now I am hard of hearing again but my “bad ear” is now the good one and vise versa.) She spent half an hour there talking to me. That’s what best friends are for.We are having the wake on the 20th. The boy (aka bear) decided to go all out and have it catered and what not. He really loved that cat.

posted by Nut's mom at 9:48 AM

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