2004-04-11
WARNING: The previous post is REALLY depressing. Feel free to not read it. And now... QUIZZES!!
im still not sure Lestat is totally into u. But hey
im sure is child Louis would LOVE u. well i
might have to make a quiz just for u and Louis!
hope u like his pic. please rate
how would a vampire react after meeting u part 2(girls only)
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KEEP IT UP GIRL! he just loves every part of you.
From your body to your personality. You are
just SO lucky! my im about to cry. i envy you
so much. The lucky butt u are!lol please rate
how would a vampire react after meeting u part 3(girls only) finished
brought to you by Quizilla
Huh??? ookaaaaay then. Well, laterz all!!!
(0) Psychos who've actually visited my Blog
im still not sure Lestat is totally into u. But hey
im sure is child Louis would LOVE u. well i
might have to make a quiz just for u and Louis!
hope u like his pic. please rate
how would a vampire react after meeting u part 2(girls only)
brought to you by Quizilla
KEEP IT UP GIRL! he just loves every part of you.
From your body to your personality. You are
just SO lucky! my im about to cry. i envy you
so much. The lucky butt u are!lol please rate
how would a vampire react after meeting u part 3(girls only) finished
brought to you by Quizilla
Huh??? ookaaaaay then. Well, laterz all!!!
WARNING!! This post will be very depressing. Feel free to just skip over it. This is just something I want to get out, and I'm not ready to talk about it yet, so typing will have to do. Once again... it is a very, VERY depressing post.
It's really amazing how much really happens in thirteen years. I vaguely remember that it was a cool, cloudy, windy day near the beginning of April when my family drove out to Lockport, to a house with a flying saucer in front of it, and picked out a kitten to take home. I remember us placing her in an open box and hearing her worried mewls as we took her away from her family and her home. After a bit of discussion, we decided to name her Abbra. As often happens with names, it changed a bit and we often called her Abbey.
My parents seperated and got divorced, I went through elementry school, junior high, high school and entered university. I got braces and glasses, played sports, made friends... life changed so much. Through many times of lonliness and sorrow and joy, I would sit for hours with Abbey. I could always count on cuddles and kisses from her when I needed it. Sometimes it seemed as though she was affectionate to a fault. I'd like to see any of you trying to fall asleep with a cat licking at your face and pawing at your covers. It's not easy. I've never met a more affectionate cat. Probably never will.
It was snowing Saturday morning... a cold, cloudy, windy day in April when my mother bundled Abbey up in a blanket, we took her to the car and, once again, took her away from her home and family. But this time... there was no new family waiting for her. Thirteen years old and in pain from a tumor on her stomach, we had decided that it was time to say goodbye to our beloved cat.
It was january when we took her to the vet and discovered that our worst fears were confirmed, that Abbey had cancer. I spent weeks debating and agonizing... talking to friends and family about what I should do. I could try to save her, try to pay for surgery. But would it help? Or could it possibly make things worse? After a bit, I decided that perhaps it was just best to leave things be. My attempts to prolong her life may only result in prolonging her suffering... and I really didn't want that. Once my decision was made, I often asked myself if it was the right decision. I'd look at my kitty, see the ugly, cancerous lump on her belly and feel guilty that I didn't try everything in my power to save her. But in the end, I have to let go and say goodbye sometime.
Over the past few months, I knew that it was only a short matter of time before we'd have to make the hardest decision of our lives. I could just imagine what it would be like... and the mere thought of letting go was enough to make me cry. It's stupid, really, how sensitive I am... I really wish I wasn't such a fricken' bleeding heart. I cried at the end of Charlotte's Web, I was so sad when Galdalf took the big plunge in The Fellowship of the Ring. If fiction affected me that much, non-existant characters that I had just met could make me weep, how could I not be affected by the cruel reality of the situation?
I would have liked to have waited a bit, at least until my Logic exam ended on Monday, so that I could have some time to mourn and adjust. I figured that we would have Abbey put down then. I was expecting it... in fact, Mom had made the appointment with the vet for around 11 am... when I would be in my exam. Then on Thursday, listening to my cat's rasping meows, I could tell that she was in pain. And I wanted it to end. A quick phone call to the vet, and we decided that Saturday at 12:15 would be as good a time as any.
I had precious little time left with Abbey, and acting in the play took away from that time. Thursday night, when I came home, I held Abbey and cuddled her. Most of the day on Friday I stayed with her and, when I went to sleep on Friday night, I lay down on a couch in the living room and held Abbey beside me. She rarely came into my room anymore... like she didn't know the place. I didn't sleep well that night, partially because my cat, although small, has a knack for plunking down in the most inconvient spot on a bed or couch. Of course, she curled up right behind my back. Not wanting to squash her, I arched my back, my knees and arm hanging off of the couch. I could have moved her, but I decided to let her be. She might as well have slept wherever she pleased.
Heh... good thing I'm not writing this on paper. It would be soaked with tears by now.
Saturday, I wake up at nine... a very rare occasion. I want to spend as much time with Abbey as possible. I cuddle her and pet her, give her treats and wish with all my heart that I could have just a bit more time. As it gets closer to noon, my heart grows heavier. Finally, Mom tells me I should think about getting dressed. As per usual, I dress all in black. When it's time to leave, Mom asks me if I would prefer to wrap Abbey in a blanket and cuddle her in my arms, or place her in a cat carrier that she had borrowed from a friend. That question alone brings back memories.
I remember just a few months ago, using kitty treats to coax Abbey to go into that dreaded carrier. This was back when I was still telling myself that I'd be paying for the surgery to remove Abbey's tumor. I had felt awful tricking her like that, shoving her into what was little more than a box. It was even worse driving to the vets with her mewling in protest. The sound always made me cry. I'd drive with no music and just talk to her, mutter reassurences to her. I would put her in the passenger seat and thread the seat belt through the handle of the carrier before buckling it. When my Mom found out I'd been buckling the cat in, she laughed and thought it was cute. I just didn't want anything to happen to her. I also remember thinking just a few days ago, as I held Abbey, that I really was not looking forward to putting her back into that crate. That I would feel like Judas, using her beloved treats to coax her into a cage and then drag her off to her doom. I knew that she was suffering and that, really, we were easing her pain. That thought really doesn't help, especially since a guilty voice in my head still nags that I could have tried to do that months ago by getting her medical help. That bitter voice insists that I killed her by not caring enough to help her. I know its not the truth, but the voice remains, all the same.
We decided not to use the carrier, and wrapped Abbey in a blanket with her head peeking out. She meowed in protest all the way, staring worriedly at cars as they passed, struggling to escape as we turned the corner from Lag. to Nairn and from Nairn to Keenleyside. I remember feeling a sense of doom with every corner we turned. "Three more turns until we reach the vet... two more turns until we reach the vet." Just before Lag and Springfield, I remembered that we hadn't brought any kitty treats for Abbey. I said as much, and Mom offered to turn around and get some. I thought for a second, then told her 'no'. Does it really matter that we have kitty treats? Not at that point. Though, several times along the trip, I considered telling my Mom that I changed my mind and telling her to go back for treats so Abbey could have some... for the last time. If anyone looked into our window as we drove along, they would have seen a grown woman crying as she clutched a cat wrapped in a peach colored blanket. The thin is... I really didn't feel like a grown woman at that point... I felt like I was nine years old again... bawling because my first goldfish had died. Except this is so much worse.
My father met us at the vet's office just a few minutes after we pulled in. I was wearing my sunglasses, and refused to take them off until we were in a private room. Abbey meowed and complained for a bit, then relaxed as we stroked her and kissed her head. A lady came in and asked us to fill out forms, asked us how we wanted the body. Depressing questions. For the first time since we found out Abbey was sick, I saw tears forming in my mother's eyes. There was a box of tissues on the steel table, but I had come prepared... I had some of my own in my pocket.
The lady left the room, came back with my Mom's mastercard... our method of payment. I could just imagine reading the credit card bill: "Killing Abbey, your pet of 13 years... x amount of dollars." Then I realised that I was being silly... the credit card company didn't care about what that particular charge meant to us. The bill would just show a general charge from the Spay and Neuter Clinic of Winnipeg. When the lady left again, we stood and waited for the doctor.
We continued cuddling Abbey, who had finally calmed down, despite the fact that a little dog was yelping in the next room. The noise had bothered her at first, and it annoyed the hell out of me. "Give that damn dog the needle and shut it up!" I thought. Then I felt bad, because that dog was someone's pet, and I didn't want that someone to go throught what I was. I read posters on the wall... one of them advertising a support group for people who had lost pets. I briefly considered writing down the number... then I dismissed the idea.
Still, we petted Abbey... my father made a joke... one that kind of wasn't appropriate for the situation. It was funny in a sad, sorry way... because it had been exactly what I was thinking... Abbey had rarely received so much attention from us... and then we were going to kill her. I couldn't decide whether to laugh or sob, so I made a noise that was both. My father, realising his gaff, literally hit his head against the wall. I wasn't angry... I understood that he didn't know how to deal with this either. I told him as much.
Finally, the vet came and explained the proceedure. Cats, it seemed, don't go as calmly as dogs do... so we had to do this in two steps. First, a sedative, secondly.... He gave us the choice of leaving after the first step or staying for the whole thing. Here, we were divided. My mother and father did not want to stay... I felt that I had to. Sad and scared as I was... I just couldn't leave Abbey with complete strangers at the end.
The doctor brought her back after the first needle, calm and sedate. We said our goodbyes... then Dad left the room. Mom told me that she would stay with me... I argued that she didn't have to... I understood that she really didn't want to be there at the end. The doctor and his assistant came into the room while I was still trying to convince Mom that I would be fine alone. I remember telling her, through tears, that I was a big girl now. She finally left.
I stood there for a moment and then went beside Abbey. I petted her and knelt down in front of her. There was a moment when I almost ran from the room... when they were preparing for the injection. I stayed... found I couldn't bear to look at my cat because she was so out of it... she already sort of looked dead. I ran my fingers through her silky fur, closed my eyes. I had planned on talking to her, telling her goodbye... but the words caught in my throat. I had warned the vet before hand that I would probably burst out in tears. I hadn't... but I would have lost control if I had tried to talk. Now I can't recall... did I really say goodbye to Abbey? Maybe not in words... looking back... I honestly don't remember if I said the words. But I said it with my heart. I looked at the doctor, taking out his stethascope. Without waiting for him to confirm what I already knew... without looking back at Abbey, I said I had to go, thanked him, and left the room. Two steps into the hallway, I wondered why I had just thanked the man who, as I saw it, had just murdered my cat.
I walk out to meet my parents... a worker there asked me if I was okay. With a clarity of voice that surprised me, I told her that I was fine. Out in the parking lot, we decide where to go from there. Father tempts me with coffee... Mom decides she just wants to go home. I hug my mother, ask her if she's sure she doesn't want me to go home with her, and watch her drive away. Settling down in Dad's car, he tells me that I'm braver than he is... that he could never have stayed. I didn't feel like explaining that it wasn't bravery that made me stay... it was a sense of obligation not to leave someone that I loved alone at the end. It was because the sense of horror and distress that had struck me when, reading an article many years ago, I learned that cats often hide away when they feel they are dying, and die alone. I had decided long ago that, when Abbey went, I wanted to be there to reassure her. And on that fateful day, I had stayed true to that decision that I had made so long ago.
I go shopping with Dad... pick out some last minute easter gifts and what-not. We talk about other things and, for awhile, I forget that I'm supposed to be in pain. Then I think of Abbey, see the Pet Supplies aisle in Superstore, and I feel the tears spilling from my eyes. But I can't afford to weep in public... and I couldn't afford to abandon myself to my sorrow that day... less than six hours from when I said goodbye to Abbey, I would have to be on stage for the final performance of a play I was in. I was not looking forward to doing that.
Driving along with my father, he starts talking about his cats... Nova used to be Mel's, but she gave it to Dad when her landlord found out she had been keeping a cat in her appartment. Nova, by the way, has the same coloring as Abbey, but not the same heart. Nova's a bitch. Dad suggests that we take Nova... I part of me protests that I should be angry at him for this, but the rational part of me (I was suprised that part was actually working) knew that Dad didn't know how to handle this, he wasn't trying to be as callous as he sounded. My father actually thought that offering to give us Nova would make me feel better. He truly didn't understand that what he was saying to me was rather like someone saying "Well... I am sorry that Lynnsey died. But look... this person looks like Lynnsey... why don't you be friends with her?" Dad didn't seem to understand that animals, like people, have different personalities, and that they can be loved as much (or sometimes more) than people, and you just can't replace them. Later on, when Dad had made the same proposition to Mom, my sister (Mel) tactfully explained that now was not the best time to discuss such a thing, and further illustrated the situation with an argument that was much like my Lynnsey-replacement argument.
Before going home, though, we had stopped off at Rodger's Video. I felt like renting a stupid, funny movie. For a moment, I considered calling Lynnsey and asking her advice... for she is the queen of mindless funny movies. Then, my eyes fell on Monty Python and the Holy Grail. Perfect. I paid for the movie and the cashier told me to have a nice day. I mumbled the automatic response as my mind raged "Have a nice day? It's too bloody late for that. How dare you!!" The world went on as normal for everyone else. At certain moments, my world seemed to stop.
I went home and, as I reached out for the door handle to go into the entranceway, I paused. For the first time in thirteen years, Abbey wouldn't be walking into the house with me or meowing at the front door or curled up sleeping on one of our beds. I wouldn't see her bounding across the lawn, waiting to be let in. I walked into the house, headed to my room to grab my dvd player and felt lost. Something felt terribly wrong, the whole house was so terribly empty. Such a small cat really doesn't take up much room in the house, but she took up a lot of room in my heart. I guess that's where the empty feeling comes from.
Dad stayed for a bit, we watched a bit of Monty Python. Then I have to get ready to go to my Aunt's for Easter diner, then to the school for the play. I'm still wearing black and I don't bother with my hair or makeup. I really don't give a damn.
Driving alone to my Aunt's place was one of the hardest things. The route we took to the vet's is the same route that I take to school every day, and to my Aunt's place. My mother didn't realise this until I mentioned to her the next day, and she said that perhaps we should have taken Abbey somewhere else. I don't know if it matters in the end. Turning from Lag. to Nairn, I remember how Abbey struggled and mewled... driving down Nairn, I start crying and sobbing. The pain gets worse as I drive past Keenleyside... to my left, a little ways down... Abbey's still lying somewhere in the clinic. I pass Keenleyside, and shortly after my sorrow passes. Its strange like that. Sometimes I forget about the pain and life goes on as normal. Sometimes I remember and my throat tightens and tears begin to fall. And sometimes I remember and just feel numb and empty. Right now, as I write this, I feel mainly pain.
I get to my Aunt's place, hoping that she won't mention anything. One of the first things she asks me is "How is Abbey? In Abbey-heaven?" I turn quickly to the closet, put away my jacket, keep turned away from my Aunt as I cry and as she tries to comfort me. Again, I'm not angry at her... I just wish she hadn't mentioned it. She tells me that she and her daughter thought of us at noon. In a way, it's comforting to know that. Later, their little dog enters the picture. I glare at it with even more contempt than is normal for me.
After supper, I run out to the school. The first person I see is my friend Chantal, the only one in the play who knows what I'm going through. Thankfully, she doesn't ask me about it. I just tell her to spread the word that, if anyone notices that I'm sad or upset, just to ignore it. I knew I would probably burst into tears once in the next hour and a half... and I really didn't need anyone asking me if I was alright. The message didn't get spread around, a couple of people asked me if I was tired or sick. I told them I was fine, then sat alone in the darkness backstage. Another person asks me if I'm alright... I assure them I'm fine. Minutes afterwards... shortly after someone gave the sign that we'd be going onstage in three minutes, I feel tears buring in my eyes and I start sobbing quietly. I tell myself to get a grip, carefully dry my eyes around my makeup, stand up, join the other actors, pick up the suitcases and head onto the stage. Happily, acting occupies my mind for the next half-hour. As it was closing night, people decided to improvise a bit. I fight back a smile as Stephan excuses himself, stating "Nature calls", and relieves himself on a tree (which is a person in a poorly-made tree costume). I also have to keep from smiling as Danny, slightly modifing the lines just to screw Stephan up, states that "Yes, the people here take an interest in sodomy, just like everywhere else", and as Steph gets him back by asking innocently, "And do you pratice sodomy?" Then the scene ends and I head quickly head out to my Aunt's place because she had promised me tea and cheesecake.
I returned in time for the final bows, talked to Mel a bit and got my video camera from her. Then I take off my costume and makeup for the last time. The actors pack everything up and head out to Boston's Pizza. Chantal drives me there, stating that I should be able to have a drink if I want to. We join the party and, looking at the drink list, I'm tempted to get a girly drink. Just one drink hours before I drive should be okay. Wayne, on the other hand, doesn't think so, and convinces me not to get any alchol. I jokingly tell him that I can get drunk when I get home. Then I remember the emptyness that awaits at home, and tears fill my eyes again. The girls across from me kind of look at me, Wayne asks me what's wrong. I look up at the ceiling and open my eyes really wide. It takes me awhile before I can quickly whisper what's wrong in his ear. He says he's sorry, gives me a quick hug. (No, don't start thinking like that, guys, Wayne's already spoken for). Now two people know about what happened that day.
The party ends with me chatting and laughing along with everyone else. I leave with Chantal, get my car from the school and go to pick up my brother. After a few minutes of chatting, I ask him if he knows that Abbey is gone. He does, and we start talking about her and how great she was. The conversation doesn't cause as much pain as I expected. It actually feels kind of nice to reminise about her with my brother.
I get home and try to go to bed. It takes me awhile to fall asleep. Sometimes I think about school, about the fun I had that night, or just daydream. Sometimes I think about Abbey. The main reason that Mom didn't stay for the whole thing was that she didn't want to remember Abbey that way... she wanted to remember her alive and happy. I think that we all choose how to remember our pets. Yes, the image of her at the end does sometimes force its way into my mind. Though, truthfully, she didn't look any different than she had when Mom and Dad had left the room. I had expected that she would have. When that image pops into my mind, I force myself to remember happier times... Abbey curled up on a couch or on the bed, Abbey under the blankets with me, Abbey prowling around in the yard or licking my hands or begging for food when we sat at the table to eat. There are so many memories of her... a number of them vague because they just seemed to banal and commonplace for me to really remember. The last few days are seared into my memory, and many of those moments I will never forget. I often complained about her, how needy or silly or destructive she was. But I always loved her, and I will always think of her with fondness and love and just a hint of pain.
It all happened on Saturday, April 10th, 2004. Today is Sunday, and the day will feel doubly empty. Firstly, at around 6 o'clock, I will have the feeling that I should be heading to school and getting ready for the play, that I should soon be in the bathroom with Chantal, putting on my makeup and joking around and waiting for Wayne to knock on the door to ask permission to enter the forbidden girl's washroom so we can help him with his makeup. That won't be happening today. Secondly, I will walk around the house, look into the living room and expect to see a black and orange pile of fur curled up on one of the couches, sit down for diner and expect to see an oh-so-familiar figure bound into the room in hopes of scoring a few table scraps. I'm half tempted to get the bag of kitty treats from it's spot on top of the fridge and shake it a bit. I know that Abbey won't come running and meowing in anticipation of treats, I know that she never will again... I just feel like shaking that bag will have a sense of finality that will succeed in banishing all doubt and all feelings that perhaps this is a bad dream. It still feels wrong, knowing that she's not here, it feels like a big mistake. A part of me thinks that shaking that bag and getting no response will offer some closure, something that, in certain moments, I feel I need. I might just do that... but not today.
(0) Psychos who've actually visited my Blog
It's really amazing how much really happens in thirteen years. I vaguely remember that it was a cool, cloudy, windy day near the beginning of April when my family drove out to Lockport, to a house with a flying saucer in front of it, and picked out a kitten to take home. I remember us placing her in an open box and hearing her worried mewls as we took her away from her family and her home. After a bit of discussion, we decided to name her Abbra. As often happens with names, it changed a bit and we often called her Abbey.
My parents seperated and got divorced, I went through elementry school, junior high, high school and entered university. I got braces and glasses, played sports, made friends... life changed so much. Through many times of lonliness and sorrow and joy, I would sit for hours with Abbey. I could always count on cuddles and kisses from her when I needed it. Sometimes it seemed as though she was affectionate to a fault. I'd like to see any of you trying to fall asleep with a cat licking at your face and pawing at your covers. It's not easy. I've never met a more affectionate cat. Probably never will.
It was snowing Saturday morning... a cold, cloudy, windy day in April when my mother bundled Abbey up in a blanket, we took her to the car and, once again, took her away from her home and family. But this time... there was no new family waiting for her. Thirteen years old and in pain from a tumor on her stomach, we had decided that it was time to say goodbye to our beloved cat.
It was january when we took her to the vet and discovered that our worst fears were confirmed, that Abbey had cancer. I spent weeks debating and agonizing... talking to friends and family about what I should do. I could try to save her, try to pay for surgery. But would it help? Or could it possibly make things worse? After a bit, I decided that perhaps it was just best to leave things be. My attempts to prolong her life may only result in prolonging her suffering... and I really didn't want that. Once my decision was made, I often asked myself if it was the right decision. I'd look at my kitty, see the ugly, cancerous lump on her belly and feel guilty that I didn't try everything in my power to save her. But in the end, I have to let go and say goodbye sometime.
Over the past few months, I knew that it was only a short matter of time before we'd have to make the hardest decision of our lives. I could just imagine what it would be like... and the mere thought of letting go was enough to make me cry. It's stupid, really, how sensitive I am... I really wish I wasn't such a fricken' bleeding heart. I cried at the end of Charlotte's Web, I was so sad when Galdalf took the big plunge in The Fellowship of the Ring. If fiction affected me that much, non-existant characters that I had just met could make me weep, how could I not be affected by the cruel reality of the situation?
I would have liked to have waited a bit, at least until my Logic exam ended on Monday, so that I could have some time to mourn and adjust. I figured that we would have Abbey put down then. I was expecting it... in fact, Mom had made the appointment with the vet for around 11 am... when I would be in my exam. Then on Thursday, listening to my cat's rasping meows, I could tell that she was in pain. And I wanted it to end. A quick phone call to the vet, and we decided that Saturday at 12:15 would be as good a time as any.
I had precious little time left with Abbey, and acting in the play took away from that time. Thursday night, when I came home, I held Abbey and cuddled her. Most of the day on Friday I stayed with her and, when I went to sleep on Friday night, I lay down on a couch in the living room and held Abbey beside me. She rarely came into my room anymore... like she didn't know the place. I didn't sleep well that night, partially because my cat, although small, has a knack for plunking down in the most inconvient spot on a bed or couch. Of course, she curled up right behind my back. Not wanting to squash her, I arched my back, my knees and arm hanging off of the couch. I could have moved her, but I decided to let her be. She might as well have slept wherever she pleased.
Heh... good thing I'm not writing this on paper. It would be soaked with tears by now.
Saturday, I wake up at nine... a very rare occasion. I want to spend as much time with Abbey as possible. I cuddle her and pet her, give her treats and wish with all my heart that I could have just a bit more time. As it gets closer to noon, my heart grows heavier. Finally, Mom tells me I should think about getting dressed. As per usual, I dress all in black. When it's time to leave, Mom asks me if I would prefer to wrap Abbey in a blanket and cuddle her in my arms, or place her in a cat carrier that she had borrowed from a friend. That question alone brings back memories.
I remember just a few months ago, using kitty treats to coax Abbey to go into that dreaded carrier. This was back when I was still telling myself that I'd be paying for the surgery to remove Abbey's tumor. I had felt awful tricking her like that, shoving her into what was little more than a box. It was even worse driving to the vets with her mewling in protest. The sound always made me cry. I'd drive with no music and just talk to her, mutter reassurences to her. I would put her in the passenger seat and thread the seat belt through the handle of the carrier before buckling it. When my Mom found out I'd been buckling the cat in, she laughed and thought it was cute. I just didn't want anything to happen to her. I also remember thinking just a few days ago, as I held Abbey, that I really was not looking forward to putting her back into that crate. That I would feel like Judas, using her beloved treats to coax her into a cage and then drag her off to her doom. I knew that she was suffering and that, really, we were easing her pain. That thought really doesn't help, especially since a guilty voice in my head still nags that I could have tried to do that months ago by getting her medical help. That bitter voice insists that I killed her by not caring enough to help her. I know its not the truth, but the voice remains, all the same.
We decided not to use the carrier, and wrapped Abbey in a blanket with her head peeking out. She meowed in protest all the way, staring worriedly at cars as they passed, struggling to escape as we turned the corner from Lag. to Nairn and from Nairn to Keenleyside. I remember feeling a sense of doom with every corner we turned. "Three more turns until we reach the vet... two more turns until we reach the vet." Just before Lag and Springfield, I remembered that we hadn't brought any kitty treats for Abbey. I said as much, and Mom offered to turn around and get some. I thought for a second, then told her 'no'. Does it really matter that we have kitty treats? Not at that point. Though, several times along the trip, I considered telling my Mom that I changed my mind and telling her to go back for treats so Abbey could have some... for the last time. If anyone looked into our window as we drove along, they would have seen a grown woman crying as she clutched a cat wrapped in a peach colored blanket. The thin is... I really didn't feel like a grown woman at that point... I felt like I was nine years old again... bawling because my first goldfish had died. Except this is so much worse.
My father met us at the vet's office just a few minutes after we pulled in. I was wearing my sunglasses, and refused to take them off until we were in a private room. Abbey meowed and complained for a bit, then relaxed as we stroked her and kissed her head. A lady came in and asked us to fill out forms, asked us how we wanted the body. Depressing questions. For the first time since we found out Abbey was sick, I saw tears forming in my mother's eyes. There was a box of tissues on the steel table, but I had come prepared... I had some of my own in my pocket.
The lady left the room, came back with my Mom's mastercard... our method of payment. I could just imagine reading the credit card bill: "Killing Abbey, your pet of 13 years... x amount of dollars." Then I realised that I was being silly... the credit card company didn't care about what that particular charge meant to us. The bill would just show a general charge from the Spay and Neuter Clinic of Winnipeg. When the lady left again, we stood and waited for the doctor.
We continued cuddling Abbey, who had finally calmed down, despite the fact that a little dog was yelping in the next room. The noise had bothered her at first, and it annoyed the hell out of me. "Give that damn dog the needle and shut it up!" I thought. Then I felt bad, because that dog was someone's pet, and I didn't want that someone to go throught what I was. I read posters on the wall... one of them advertising a support group for people who had lost pets. I briefly considered writing down the number... then I dismissed the idea.
Still, we petted Abbey... my father made a joke... one that kind of wasn't appropriate for the situation. It was funny in a sad, sorry way... because it had been exactly what I was thinking... Abbey had rarely received so much attention from us... and then we were going to kill her. I couldn't decide whether to laugh or sob, so I made a noise that was both. My father, realising his gaff, literally hit his head against the wall. I wasn't angry... I understood that he didn't know how to deal with this either. I told him as much.
Finally, the vet came and explained the proceedure. Cats, it seemed, don't go as calmly as dogs do... so we had to do this in two steps. First, a sedative, secondly.... He gave us the choice of leaving after the first step or staying for the whole thing. Here, we were divided. My mother and father did not want to stay... I felt that I had to. Sad and scared as I was... I just couldn't leave Abbey with complete strangers at the end.
The doctor brought her back after the first needle, calm and sedate. We said our goodbyes... then Dad left the room. Mom told me that she would stay with me... I argued that she didn't have to... I understood that she really didn't want to be there at the end. The doctor and his assistant came into the room while I was still trying to convince Mom that I would be fine alone. I remember telling her, through tears, that I was a big girl now. She finally left.
I stood there for a moment and then went beside Abbey. I petted her and knelt down in front of her. There was a moment when I almost ran from the room... when they were preparing for the injection. I stayed... found I couldn't bear to look at my cat because she was so out of it... she already sort of looked dead. I ran my fingers through her silky fur, closed my eyes. I had planned on talking to her, telling her goodbye... but the words caught in my throat. I had warned the vet before hand that I would probably burst out in tears. I hadn't... but I would have lost control if I had tried to talk. Now I can't recall... did I really say goodbye to Abbey? Maybe not in words... looking back... I honestly don't remember if I said the words. But I said it with my heart. I looked at the doctor, taking out his stethascope. Without waiting for him to confirm what I already knew... without looking back at Abbey, I said I had to go, thanked him, and left the room. Two steps into the hallway, I wondered why I had just thanked the man who, as I saw it, had just murdered my cat.
I walk out to meet my parents... a worker there asked me if I was okay. With a clarity of voice that surprised me, I told her that I was fine. Out in the parking lot, we decide where to go from there. Father tempts me with coffee... Mom decides she just wants to go home. I hug my mother, ask her if she's sure she doesn't want me to go home with her, and watch her drive away. Settling down in Dad's car, he tells me that I'm braver than he is... that he could never have stayed. I didn't feel like explaining that it wasn't bravery that made me stay... it was a sense of obligation not to leave someone that I loved alone at the end. It was because the sense of horror and distress that had struck me when, reading an article many years ago, I learned that cats often hide away when they feel they are dying, and die alone. I had decided long ago that, when Abbey went, I wanted to be there to reassure her. And on that fateful day, I had stayed true to that decision that I had made so long ago.
I go shopping with Dad... pick out some last minute easter gifts and what-not. We talk about other things and, for awhile, I forget that I'm supposed to be in pain. Then I think of Abbey, see the Pet Supplies aisle in Superstore, and I feel the tears spilling from my eyes. But I can't afford to weep in public... and I couldn't afford to abandon myself to my sorrow that day... less than six hours from when I said goodbye to Abbey, I would have to be on stage for the final performance of a play I was in. I was not looking forward to doing that.
Driving along with my father, he starts talking about his cats... Nova used to be Mel's, but she gave it to Dad when her landlord found out she had been keeping a cat in her appartment. Nova, by the way, has the same coloring as Abbey, but not the same heart. Nova's a bitch. Dad suggests that we take Nova... I part of me protests that I should be angry at him for this, but the rational part of me (I was suprised that part was actually working) knew that Dad didn't know how to handle this, he wasn't trying to be as callous as he sounded. My father actually thought that offering to give us Nova would make me feel better. He truly didn't understand that what he was saying to me was rather like someone saying "Well... I am sorry that Lynnsey died. But look... this person looks like Lynnsey... why don't you be friends with her?" Dad didn't seem to understand that animals, like people, have different personalities, and that they can be loved as much (or sometimes more) than people, and you just can't replace them. Later on, when Dad had made the same proposition to Mom, my sister (Mel) tactfully explained that now was not the best time to discuss such a thing, and further illustrated the situation with an argument that was much like my Lynnsey-replacement argument.
Before going home, though, we had stopped off at Rodger's Video. I felt like renting a stupid, funny movie. For a moment, I considered calling Lynnsey and asking her advice... for she is the queen of mindless funny movies. Then, my eyes fell on Monty Python and the Holy Grail. Perfect. I paid for the movie and the cashier told me to have a nice day. I mumbled the automatic response as my mind raged "Have a nice day? It's too bloody late for that. How dare you!!" The world went on as normal for everyone else. At certain moments, my world seemed to stop.
I went home and, as I reached out for the door handle to go into the entranceway, I paused. For the first time in thirteen years, Abbey wouldn't be walking into the house with me or meowing at the front door or curled up sleeping on one of our beds. I wouldn't see her bounding across the lawn, waiting to be let in. I walked into the house, headed to my room to grab my dvd player and felt lost. Something felt terribly wrong, the whole house was so terribly empty. Such a small cat really doesn't take up much room in the house, but she took up a lot of room in my heart. I guess that's where the empty feeling comes from.
Dad stayed for a bit, we watched a bit of Monty Python. Then I have to get ready to go to my Aunt's for Easter diner, then to the school for the play. I'm still wearing black and I don't bother with my hair or makeup. I really don't give a damn.
Driving alone to my Aunt's place was one of the hardest things. The route we took to the vet's is the same route that I take to school every day, and to my Aunt's place. My mother didn't realise this until I mentioned to her the next day, and she said that perhaps we should have taken Abbey somewhere else. I don't know if it matters in the end. Turning from Lag. to Nairn, I remember how Abbey struggled and mewled... driving down Nairn, I start crying and sobbing. The pain gets worse as I drive past Keenleyside... to my left, a little ways down... Abbey's still lying somewhere in the clinic. I pass Keenleyside, and shortly after my sorrow passes. Its strange like that. Sometimes I forget about the pain and life goes on as normal. Sometimes I remember and my throat tightens and tears begin to fall. And sometimes I remember and just feel numb and empty. Right now, as I write this, I feel mainly pain.
I get to my Aunt's place, hoping that she won't mention anything. One of the first things she asks me is "How is Abbey? In Abbey-heaven?" I turn quickly to the closet, put away my jacket, keep turned away from my Aunt as I cry and as she tries to comfort me. Again, I'm not angry at her... I just wish she hadn't mentioned it. She tells me that she and her daughter thought of us at noon. In a way, it's comforting to know that. Later, their little dog enters the picture. I glare at it with even more contempt than is normal for me.
After supper, I run out to the school. The first person I see is my friend Chantal, the only one in the play who knows what I'm going through. Thankfully, she doesn't ask me about it. I just tell her to spread the word that, if anyone notices that I'm sad or upset, just to ignore it. I knew I would probably burst into tears once in the next hour and a half... and I really didn't need anyone asking me if I was alright. The message didn't get spread around, a couple of people asked me if I was tired or sick. I told them I was fine, then sat alone in the darkness backstage. Another person asks me if I'm alright... I assure them I'm fine. Minutes afterwards... shortly after someone gave the sign that we'd be going onstage in three minutes, I feel tears buring in my eyes and I start sobbing quietly. I tell myself to get a grip, carefully dry my eyes around my makeup, stand up, join the other actors, pick up the suitcases and head onto the stage. Happily, acting occupies my mind for the next half-hour. As it was closing night, people decided to improvise a bit. I fight back a smile as Stephan excuses himself, stating "Nature calls", and relieves himself on a tree (which is a person in a poorly-made tree costume). I also have to keep from smiling as Danny, slightly modifing the lines just to screw Stephan up, states that "Yes, the people here take an interest in sodomy, just like everywhere else", and as Steph gets him back by asking innocently, "And do you pratice sodomy?" Then the scene ends and I head quickly head out to my Aunt's place because she had promised me tea and cheesecake.
I returned in time for the final bows, talked to Mel a bit and got my video camera from her. Then I take off my costume and makeup for the last time. The actors pack everything up and head out to Boston's Pizza. Chantal drives me there, stating that I should be able to have a drink if I want to. We join the party and, looking at the drink list, I'm tempted to get a girly drink. Just one drink hours before I drive should be okay. Wayne, on the other hand, doesn't think so, and convinces me not to get any alchol. I jokingly tell him that I can get drunk when I get home. Then I remember the emptyness that awaits at home, and tears fill my eyes again. The girls across from me kind of look at me, Wayne asks me what's wrong. I look up at the ceiling and open my eyes really wide. It takes me awhile before I can quickly whisper what's wrong in his ear. He says he's sorry, gives me a quick hug. (No, don't start thinking like that, guys, Wayne's already spoken for). Now two people know about what happened that day.
The party ends with me chatting and laughing along with everyone else. I leave with Chantal, get my car from the school and go to pick up my brother. After a few minutes of chatting, I ask him if he knows that Abbey is gone. He does, and we start talking about her and how great she was. The conversation doesn't cause as much pain as I expected. It actually feels kind of nice to reminise about her with my brother.
I get home and try to go to bed. It takes me awhile to fall asleep. Sometimes I think about school, about the fun I had that night, or just daydream. Sometimes I think about Abbey. The main reason that Mom didn't stay for the whole thing was that she didn't want to remember Abbey that way... she wanted to remember her alive and happy. I think that we all choose how to remember our pets. Yes, the image of her at the end does sometimes force its way into my mind. Though, truthfully, she didn't look any different than she had when Mom and Dad had left the room. I had expected that she would have. When that image pops into my mind, I force myself to remember happier times... Abbey curled up on a couch or on the bed, Abbey under the blankets with me, Abbey prowling around in the yard or licking my hands or begging for food when we sat at the table to eat. There are so many memories of her... a number of them vague because they just seemed to banal and commonplace for me to really remember. The last few days are seared into my memory, and many of those moments I will never forget. I often complained about her, how needy or silly or destructive she was. But I always loved her, and I will always think of her with fondness and love and just a hint of pain.
It all happened on Saturday, April 10th, 2004. Today is Sunday, and the day will feel doubly empty. Firstly, at around 6 o'clock, I will have the feeling that I should be heading to school and getting ready for the play, that I should soon be in the bathroom with Chantal, putting on my makeup and joking around and waiting for Wayne to knock on the door to ask permission to enter the forbidden girl's washroom so we can help him with his makeup. That won't be happening today. Secondly, I will walk around the house, look into the living room and expect to see a black and orange pile of fur curled up on one of the couches, sit down for diner and expect to see an oh-so-familiar figure bound into the room in hopes of scoring a few table scraps. I'm half tempted to get the bag of kitty treats from it's spot on top of the fridge and shake it a bit. I know that Abbey won't come running and meowing in anticipation of treats, I know that she never will again... I just feel like shaking that bag will have a sense of finality that will succeed in banishing all doubt and all feelings that perhaps this is a bad dream. It still feels wrong, knowing that she's not here, it feels like a big mistake. A part of me thinks that shaking that bag and getting no response will offer some closure, something that, in certain moments, I feel I need. I might just do that... but not today.
2004-04-08
So... play tonight. Kinda don't wanna do it. Kinda getting sick of all this. Will do quizzes.
You are a Siren. More adventurous than all with a
voice like no other you sit on warm rocks and
sing to the moon and sea. Yet sometimes
shipwrecks find you and raving men want you.
You are a bottle of talent and power. What the
unknown is you seek to find, and a lover. You
have the moon and stars as freinds. There are a
very few of you, what a rare find. Will you
rate my quiz, I think your voice in just
beautiful?
What kind of mermaid are you? (Gorgeous Pics)
brought to you by Quizilla
Such pretty pics. I want them all.
Well lets just say Lestat would love to meet u
again. he loves ur sweet shyness and charm. he
also loves that u are a goth and are a loner.
he loves u through and through. please rate and
stay tuned for ur next meeting with lestat.
how would a vampire react after meeting u?(girls only)
brought to you by Quizilla
mmmmmmmmmmm... Lestat. What is it with me and vampires? Ah... so sexy. *drool*
P.S. This person really can't spell. I've rarely seen the english language abused in such a way.
Sigh... I shoud prolly go and get into my overalls and beard. *sigh* Leaving now.
(0) Psychos who've actually visited my Blog
You are a Siren. More adventurous than all with a
voice like no other you sit on warm rocks and
sing to the moon and sea. Yet sometimes
shipwrecks find you and raving men want you.
You are a bottle of talent and power. What the
unknown is you seek to find, and a lover. You
have the moon and stars as freinds. There are a
very few of you, what a rare find. Will you
rate my quiz, I think your voice in just
beautiful?
What kind of mermaid are you? (Gorgeous Pics)
brought to you by Quizilla
Such pretty pics. I want them all.
Well lets just say Lestat would love to meet u
again. he loves ur sweet shyness and charm. he
also loves that u are a goth and are a loner.
he loves u through and through. please rate and
stay tuned for ur next meeting with lestat.
how would a vampire react after meeting u?(girls only)
brought to you by Quizilla
mmmmmmmmmmm... Lestat. What is it with me and vampires? Ah... so sexy. *drool*
P.S. This person really can't spell. I've rarely seen the english language abused in such a way.
Sigh... I shoud prolly go and get into my overalls and beard. *sigh* Leaving now.
GAH!!
Sorry, haven't really been on the Internet much lately. I don't have it hooked up to my comp at home, don't feel like venturing into my bro's room to use said Internet and am too busy during the nights dressing in drag. That's right... by day, I am the meek, quiet university student known as Theresa Beauchemin. By night, I am... *drumroll* JEAN, THE BLOODY INEPT MECHANIC!! *comeseemyplay* I'm getting so sick of putting on those bloody overalls. And just don't get me started on the beard. Actually, it's kinda funny walking into the woman's washroom and having this beard painted onto my face. It's also kinda fun to coax guys to come into the girl's washroom so I can put their makeup on. La la la...
At any rate... been reading blogs. Very funny. Lynnsey, sorry you're confused about daylight savings time. Carla, sorry you missed passover stuff and are going to hell. Chrissy... uh... I'm sorry about your boobs. *Don't ask, just read Chrissy's blog.* But yes, I'm sorry I haven't gotten to see you for awhile (especially Chrissy). Hopefully, things will be better soon.
By the way, Chrissy's cousin has a social on the 17th of April... buy tickets, my friends. Also, Chrissy is trying to plan a fondu thing around our crackpot scheduals. Carla, Lynnsey, you guys free on the 17th for a social and fondu? Chrissy and I (well, maybe not Chrissy, she may decide to claim ignorance as to my crackpot plans) were thinking either we have fondu earlier during the day and go to the social at night or go to the social, have a pyjama party at someone's place (I promise I'll try my best not to instigate naked pillow fights) and do the fondu the next day.
And why does the phrase 'do the fondu' remind me of the slogan 'Do the Dew'? And now I am slightly nauseous just thinking of Mountain Dew and all it's crappy splendor. Urgh. Well... I should go now. Later
----------------------------------------
Current mood: Dunno. Wait... yes I do know... COLD
Currently watching: Computer screen. But I'd rather be at home watching Robin Hood, Prince of Theives or The Great Mouse Detective (Again, CURSE YOU CARLA!!)
Currently listening to: The clackety-clack of keyboards. Fun.
Current quote: "Ow! My foot!! My only foot!" - Fidget (a peg-legged bat in The Great Mouse Detective)
(0) Psychos who've actually visited my Blog
Sorry, haven't really been on the Internet much lately. I don't have it hooked up to my comp at home, don't feel like venturing into my bro's room to use said Internet and am too busy during the nights dressing in drag. That's right... by day, I am the meek, quiet university student known as Theresa Beauchemin. By night, I am... *drumroll* JEAN, THE BLOODY INEPT MECHANIC!! *comeseemyplay* I'm getting so sick of putting on those bloody overalls. And just don't get me started on the beard. Actually, it's kinda funny walking into the woman's washroom and having this beard painted onto my face. It's also kinda fun to coax guys to come into the girl's washroom so I can put their makeup on. La la la...
At any rate... been reading blogs. Very funny. Lynnsey, sorry you're confused about daylight savings time. Carla, sorry you missed passover stuff and are going to hell. Chrissy... uh... I'm sorry about your boobs. *Don't ask, just read Chrissy's blog.* But yes, I'm sorry I haven't gotten to see you for awhile (especially Chrissy). Hopefully, things will be better soon.
By the way, Chrissy's cousin has a social on the 17th of April... buy tickets, my friends. Also, Chrissy is trying to plan a fondu thing around our crackpot scheduals. Carla, Lynnsey, you guys free on the 17th for a social and fondu? Chrissy and I (well, maybe not Chrissy, she may decide to claim ignorance as to my crackpot plans) were thinking either we have fondu earlier during the day and go to the social at night or go to the social, have a pyjama party at someone's place (I promise I'll try my best not to instigate naked pillow fights) and do the fondu the next day.
And why does the phrase 'do the fondu' remind me of the slogan 'Do the Dew'? And now I am slightly nauseous just thinking of Mountain Dew and all it's crappy splendor. Urgh. Well... I should go now. Later
----------------------------------------
Current mood: Dunno. Wait... yes I do know... COLD
Currently watching: Computer screen. But I'd rather be at home watching Robin Hood, Prince of Theives or The Great Mouse Detective (Again, CURSE YOU CARLA!!)
Currently listening to: The clackety-clack of keyboards. Fun.
Current quote: "Ow! My foot!! My only foot!" - Fidget (a peg-legged bat in The Great Mouse Detective)
2004-04-02
Ah.. I'm an idiot... I also have a fact I'd like to share. I thought of this when I realised that I didn't have an April Fool's Day post.
In France, the start of the new year used to be celebrated in spring. The celebrations took place over an eight day period which ended on April the first. In the 1500s, the day marking the new year was changed to January the first, and remains that way to this day. Predictably, there were many who objected to this change, refused to conform to it and continued to celebrate the new year on the first day of April. As a jest, they were sent mock presents from all those who celebrated the new year in January, and were called 'poissons' which, at the time, was another way of calling someone a fool. Hence, the term 'Poisson d'avril', or 'April fools' in English. This is one theory as to the origins of April Fool's Day.
(0) Psychos who've actually visited my Blog
In France, the start of the new year used to be celebrated in spring. The celebrations took place over an eight day period which ended on April the first. In the 1500s, the day marking the new year was changed to January the first, and remains that way to this day. Predictably, there were many who objected to this change, refused to conform to it and continued to celebrate the new year on the first day of April. As a jest, they were sent mock presents from all those who celebrated the new year in January, and were called 'poissons' which, at the time, was another way of calling someone a fool. Hence, the term 'Poisson d'avril', or 'April fools' in English. This is one theory as to the origins of April Fool's Day.
I don't know whether I should feel like screaming, crying or just give in, shrug and roll with the punches. For some strange reason, I'm not as stressed out over this matter as I thought I would be. Let me explain.
Recently, I have committed screw-up that qualifies as the pièce de résistance (hm, that's probably not even the right term, ah hell) of all of the chem-lab-report-writing screw-ups that have been committed all year. That little note book that I carry all my lab notes in - including masses weighed, volumes used etc. - has been lost. By me. I've looked in my house, my room, my car, all the labs I've been in during the past week... I've even been so desperate as to ask the scary teachers if they've seen said note book. All to no avail. The book might as well have been abducted by aliens, for all I know. And, since my lab partner really isn't in the habit of writing her own lab notes, and rarely asks to photocopy mine, I have no way of obtaining said notes. Yeah.
Now, normally I'd be totally panicking and stressing my head off. Don't get me wrong... I do still have a mild sense of panic... very, very mild. But most of my brain is just thinking "Meh", and not even putting much effort into that thought. It's the last chem lab... ever, since I highly doubt I'll be doing my masters in chem, if at all. And even though I've abhored this very thought ever since I've started doing any type of science lab, I've decided that I might as well just cave in to temptation and peer presure and just fudge the results. That's right... screw around with values until a result that just makes sense. So there.
Hm... I orignally thought this post would be a rant about how stupid I am for losing my notes and how much I wish my partner had a copy of the notes or something. I'm actually a bit more mellow than I'd expected to be. Am I finally learning how to chill out and not stress? That would be nice... but I doubt it. I think I'm just too tired with theater pratices (cometomyplaynextweek) and my application to the faculty of education and other such things. No room for stress. It's a sorta nice feeling. Well... back to my chem lab.
-------------------------------------------
Current mood: Oddly serene and kinda hungry.
Currently watching: The computer screen, as per usual.
Currently reading: Still on The Casebook of Sherlock Holmes. Still cursing Carla's name.
Current quote:
M. Diop (my chem teacher): *vaguely hopeful voice* Is anyone here planning on taking their masters?
Girl in my class: *seemingly oblivious to the subtext* I am... but not in chemistry.
The rest of the class: *in their heads* HARSH!!
Obvious man (whom I just made up on the spot): *sagely* If a teacher asks you if you're continuing your studies, it's usually a good idea to not blurt out "Yes, but not in your subject!!"
(0) Psychos who've actually visited my Blog
Recently, I have committed screw-up that qualifies as the pièce de résistance (hm, that's probably not even the right term, ah hell) of all of the chem-lab-report-writing screw-ups that have been committed all year. That little note book that I carry all my lab notes in - including masses weighed, volumes used etc. - has been lost. By me. I've looked in my house, my room, my car, all the labs I've been in during the past week... I've even been so desperate as to ask the scary teachers if they've seen said note book. All to no avail. The book might as well have been abducted by aliens, for all I know. And, since my lab partner really isn't in the habit of writing her own lab notes, and rarely asks to photocopy mine, I have no way of obtaining said notes. Yeah.
Now, normally I'd be totally panicking and stressing my head off. Don't get me wrong... I do still have a mild sense of panic... very, very mild. But most of my brain is just thinking "Meh", and not even putting much effort into that thought. It's the last chem lab... ever, since I highly doubt I'll be doing my masters in chem, if at all. And even though I've abhored this very thought ever since I've started doing any type of science lab, I've decided that I might as well just cave in to temptation and peer presure and just fudge the results. That's right... screw around with values until a result that just makes sense. So there.
Hm... I orignally thought this post would be a rant about how stupid I am for losing my notes and how much I wish my partner had a copy of the notes or something. I'm actually a bit more mellow than I'd expected to be. Am I finally learning how to chill out and not stress? That would be nice... but I doubt it. I think I'm just too tired with theater pratices (cometomyplaynextweek) and my application to the faculty of education and other such things. No room for stress. It's a sorta nice feeling. Well... back to my chem lab.
-------------------------------------------
Current mood: Oddly serene and kinda hungry.
Currently watching: The computer screen, as per usual.
Currently reading: Still on The Casebook of Sherlock Holmes. Still cursing Carla's name.
Current quote:
M. Diop (my chem teacher): *vaguely hopeful voice* Is anyone here planning on taking their masters?
Girl in my class: *seemingly oblivious to the subtext* I am... but not in chemistry.
The rest of the class: *in their heads* HARSH!!
Obvious man (whom I just made up on the spot): *sagely* If a teacher asks you if you're continuing your studies, it's usually a good idea to not blurt out "Yes, but not in your subject!!"
