Days 7, 8, and 9

Isis is ready to come home.

It's such a simple and innocuous statement, I would never have thought it would weigh so heavily on my heart. I would never have considered that this thought would cause me so much pain.

I'm still not sure to what degree and for how long this is supposed to hurt- but I think tomorrow will be my last sequential post on the subject. Tomorrow I go get her. And I am not ready.

I still hadn't completely adjusted to her being gone. Although the photos I have of her on my phone have become somewhat cathartic. As has writing about this. I think people are a little disinterested in the fact that I am in mourning for a creature so small, whose life was so short. This is likely a projection. I think I judge myself and the way I spend my energy quite harshly and I assume others are just as unkind. People are probably quite sad for me as well, and understanding that it has been little more than a week since a very prominent presence in my life left abruptly and without warning. I imagine it's just hard to know what to say. It's hard to know to what extent someone needs guidance or intervention in their grieving process.

I spent the weekend in Houston, which is where I was traveling when I got the call. It was bittersweet, as most things have been lately. I try to appreciate things in the moment for what they are, removed from the new state of the world that I am still processing. I think when I resume my writing project about love I will include broader types of love, such as that of the love between a person and their animal companions.

While in Houston I tried my best to live the way I did when I first started college. I intended to visit my sister, whose birthday I missed due to the inability to withstand a three hour drive after taking Isis to the mortuary, but she was in New Orleans when I arrived. I assumed that she was spending the long weekend there. The rest of the visit went well. Though I did not dance as much as I did when I was younger the bulk of the time was spent carelessly. We talked, we ate, we drank in excess, we shopped and started conversations with strangers. I guess technically friends of friends are not quite strangers, but I feel just as weird making small talk with them normally so I see no practical difference. Everyone survived. My ex even took a picture with The Kitten while I was gone to prove that my run of bad luck making the drive there had ended. I suppose it's hard to establish and substantiate a curse after only two unfortunate events, but when they are as expensive and emotionally taxing as popping two tires and losing a cat I think it's reasonable to be weary of any links to the two.

Now I am back to the quiet of my new life. The very serious and focused existence. I am trying to convince myself that the recent heartbreaks are probably for the best. This is really my last chance at UT. It's better that I'm not distracted. A sincere effort needs to be made.

I came home to a shattered bowl. The Kitten was sleeping on the corner of the bed she now occupies when I am gone. I am glad that she no longer hides under the sink. I am frustrated that I now have only two bowls, having relinquished one to the kitten already, to use as a water bowl. I couldn't keep the things she shared with Isis...and I kind of liked the idea of us using matching tableware. I considered that there was probably an insect taunting her while I was gone. She had to jump on the counter, there was no stopping it, she could not be held accountable. Or, she was lonely, so she felt the need to explore. This is also reasonable. The Kitten now spends a lot of her time alone. I considered getting her a kitten of her own, the way she was brought in to keep Isis company. Sadly, this is not something I am ready to do. My hope is that she is fine with the time we do get to spend together. I hope she doesn't spend her day on existential thoughts now that Isis is gone. I hope I attribute too much emotional depth to her. She's a simple cat and lives a simple life.

After cleaning up I checked her paws and they seemed fine. So we're all well until tomorrow at 3:30pm.

When we go to get Isis back.

Comments

  1. I completely empathize with you. The loss of a pet-partner's life is heartwrenching. It feels unreal and you keep hoping it will come around the corner from hiding in the closet. Much like the cliché, time heals all all wounds.

    On another note, your writing is very good. The words jumped at me and it all flowed so effortlessly.

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    Replies
    1. Thank you so much. Both sentiments really mean a lot to me.

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