Thursday, June 27, 2013

Heartbroken

My companion for 16 years, Miss Kitty, was euthanized Monday Oct 12, 2009. Miss kitty came from a rough background. When we lived in Denver Ginny had to live with us because her MS was causing her seizures and she could no longer live alone. She was a grown woman but she needed us. She volunteered at a Rescue Society for cats on the farthes other side of Denver possible. One weekend she came back and said there was a cat there I just had to see. She was so tiny and athe silkiest fur shed ever felt. So Phil and I went and Phil saying all the time no cat no cat no cat. Miss Kitty was called Little Fast Streak and she was in a special room where they kept the especially feral cats, the ones who just wouldn't calm down. She'd come from a hoarders home with most of the cats euthanized when they been taken from the home by Animal Authority. Miss Kitty, thought to be a kitten, was given to the Society. They discovered she wws older than that by her teeth and she'd had kittens. They thought she was 4 but a runt and practiclly starved. Ginny has been the only person who had been able to get near her cage without violence. By the way--Ginny didn't tell me that until afetr wards. I went into the rooom and Ginny took her out of the cage and she was so tiny I could hold her in my one hand and she purred and rubbed her head against me and her tiny little black body was mine. She even let Phil hold her a moment but her eyes were never off mine. We took her immediately. I'd never felt such silky hair except in a babys head.

We got her home to our big house of many floors and let her out of her cage and she ran into Ginnys old woooden dollhouse and we never saw her her again for two years.We even fed her in the dollhouse. Although at night she would come into the bedroom and sleep curled up at my neck purring so loudly she'd wake up Phil.

She was a deeply damaged cat. the horrors she had lived through I can't bear to think of. Eventually she let Phil hold her and we saw finally she was a tuxedo with a frill of white on her tummy and half a mustache in white and goatee. She weighed about four pounds. When we could catch her to get her to a vet she was slowly growing and she eventually ha to quit living in the empty dollhouse. I had her for sixteen years and she never loved anout person, never shared even an inkling of interest in what anyone else was doing. Food did not entice her. Just my voice. Eventually we found her name. She'd come in to me and and rubbed her self around my legs and then bounced off and I said Who do you think you are Miss Kitty? And she stopped and turned around and talked to me. That was her name. She'd been waiting for me to find it. She 'd talk to me all the time. Just me though. Nobody else.
My how things change. I'm in college--forever. I have a great grandchild I adore. I'm old enough to be able to scream "GET OFF MY FUCKING GRASS!" and I mean the yard. I am still in the fly-over state---but if things get any worse I will soon be living anywhere I can in the car. I've been sicker, and far more sane, than I have been in years. It could be because there are no teenagers in the house. They are in my life since most of the students in college are teenagers--I am, however, not the only ancient one (GOD I HATE being called MA'M.) I have had two stories published and two poems published in the college literary magazine--okay--no money--BUT I'M WRITING! I'm working on a book that until now has been written on napkins, paper towels, envelope backs, backs of school papers and several random notebooks that I can't find. I'm trying to get up the nerve to put it on the computer. It does nothing if I can't/don't get it on the computer. Except make me really proud that I'm writing again. The Universe has been doing all it can to make my self humble and feel regret--it ain't working. I'm old, I'm hard and I'm not giving in to the Universe until I damn well feel like it. Oh yeah--and I'm angry too.Things are NOT beautiful, things are NOT fine, things are NOT going to get better unless I CHANGE THEM. I'm no 4.0 student. I'm barely a student. I can't do anything even resembling math and algebra is ---just hell. But I do okay in everything else. I met someone I thought I could have as a friend, turns out I can't. I met someone I don't want as a friend, turns out they want to be friends. I bitch a lot. A LOT. The hell with Christmas cards. GOT ZERO--SEND ZERO. I'm on Facebook, having a ball with all the snarky one liners my little stupid non 4.0 brain can come up with and loving every minute of it. My credit score is lower than my IQ. Broke is now part of my name. And my soul. I did---and this one made me actually cry once I was out of class---see my own DNA. It absolutely blew me away. That was me! Not what my parents did to me, not my grandparents, not my kids none none my husbands--it was ME in about 15 to 20 little white cloudy coils I could see ME! I've been in tears over math class cause I can't do it--I was in tears in History of Nebraska because an Indian man told of being beaten in the White Indian School--I had to leave the room--but this was happy crying. I was moved beyond anything--and I mean anything in my life. I saw me! Not an image or a reflection--no one else on earth looks like my DNA--so no one else is ME. There are very good things in college. Not a lot--but some--make the hell part worth it. Nobody I told cared I saw my DNA but me. Oh well, that's Kathy's life.