Update
I guess that could be the title of nearly every entry here, couldn't it?
Despite the dire forecast, the weather was fairly decent for my days off, though the winds were howling about thirty knots today. That's okay--it keeps the casual pilots on the ground and lower our stress-level at work.
Anyway--I actually got a few things done around the house Tuesday. I cut down the dead tree on our "Christmas tree" hill out back and took the lights off of it. (Now to get the lights checked out on the remaining trees before it gets colder and their needles get so painfully sharp!)
Then I marked the graves in our cat cemetary out back. I had bought some wooden stakes last spring and put several coats of white paint on them this summer. I was waiting for the frost to knock down some of the tall grasses to make it easier to find the graves. Most of them are marked with stones or wooden planks and surveyor's tape, but I wanted something easy to see and consistent, so I am going with the wooden stakes and writing names with permanent marker. Eventually, I would like to make small mounds with white-washed stones but the wooden markers will work for a few years. I wanted to get them in the ground before it started freezing.
It was rather sad and thoughtful work. The fresher graves still cause a sharp pang, a sense of loss...Newt, Lucy, even Rosie. I wish I could have done more for them. I have the sense that they should still be here. I *want* them to still be here, I guess that's it.
With the older graves, there was a bittersweet feeling, that I am glad I had these cats in my life. Whiskers, the grand dame; Hannah, the foster cat; Sparky, who died too young, and the whole string of Tobys--Toby II, the foster cat who came back here to die where he had known love; Little Tobie, the sick kitten we fought to save back in 1998; and the original Toby who by his grace and character has given all our gray-and-white cats his name in memory.
Farthest back, in the little thicket where she liked to sleep, is Kisa, whose loss I will always feel and whose gentle warmth I will always miss. A houseful of cats can soothe but not fill the void. I will forever miss my Darling Companion and there is still a piece of my heart lying in that cold earth.
Time and memories drifted and merged in the cool air under the chill sky, but in the end, when I returned to the house, I felt at peace.
*~*~*~*~*~*
Wednesday was volunteer day. Another four hours at the Shelter, cleaning, feeding, combing and loving. A mystery virus has been haunting the kittens--we have lost several and it has the vet baffled. The remaining little ones seemed healthy enough. Two little black ones would not stay out of my lap as I combed Toby John, wiggling in between us and purring up a storm.
I was tired by the time I got back home, so I stripped off my clothes and threw them in the washer then went upstairs and jumped in the shower, letting the warm water beat on me. After I had my hair washed, I let the tub fill with water and enjoyed a long soak.
Today, I joined an on-line club for owners of deaf cats. Maybe I can get some ideas to help with Frannie.
Despite the dire forecast, the weather was fairly decent for my days off, though the winds were howling about thirty knots today. That's okay--it keeps the casual pilots on the ground and lower our stress-level at work.
Anyway--I actually got a few things done around the house Tuesday. I cut down the dead tree on our "Christmas tree" hill out back and took the lights off of it. (Now to get the lights checked out on the remaining trees before it gets colder and their needles get so painfully sharp!)
Then I marked the graves in our cat cemetary out back. I had bought some wooden stakes last spring and put several coats of white paint on them this summer. I was waiting for the frost to knock down some of the tall grasses to make it easier to find the graves. Most of them are marked with stones or wooden planks and surveyor's tape, but I wanted something easy to see and consistent, so I am going with the wooden stakes and writing names with permanent marker. Eventually, I would like to make small mounds with white-washed stones but the wooden markers will work for a few years. I wanted to get them in the ground before it started freezing.
It was rather sad and thoughtful work. The fresher graves still cause a sharp pang, a sense of loss...Newt, Lucy, even Rosie. I wish I could have done more for them. I have the sense that they should still be here. I *want* them to still be here, I guess that's it.
With the older graves, there was a bittersweet feeling, that I am glad I had these cats in my life. Whiskers, the grand dame; Hannah, the foster cat; Sparky, who died too young, and the whole string of Tobys--Toby II, the foster cat who came back here to die where he had known love; Little Tobie, the sick kitten we fought to save back in 1998; and the original Toby who by his grace and character has given all our gray-and-white cats his name in memory.
Farthest back, in the little thicket where she liked to sleep, is Kisa, whose loss I will always feel and whose gentle warmth I will always miss. A houseful of cats can soothe but not fill the void. I will forever miss my Darling Companion and there is still a piece of my heart lying in that cold earth.
Time and memories drifted and merged in the cool air under the chill sky, but in the end, when I returned to the house, I felt at peace.
*~*~*~*~*~*
Wednesday was volunteer day. Another four hours at the Shelter, cleaning, feeding, combing and loving. A mystery virus has been haunting the kittens--we have lost several and it has the vet baffled. The remaining little ones seemed healthy enough. Two little black ones would not stay out of my lap as I combed Toby John, wiggling in between us and purring up a storm.
I was tired by the time I got back home, so I stripped off my clothes and threw them in the washer then went upstairs and jumped in the shower, letting the warm water beat on me. After I had my hair washed, I let the tub fill with water and enjoyed a long soak.
Today, I joined an on-line club for owners of deaf cats. Maybe I can get some ideas to help with Frannie.
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