I will have to tell you because our cats, Opal and Otto, don't know how (can't be bothered ) to type...yet. For the record, I don't really like most perfumes, parfums, eau de parfums, eau de toilettes or eau de colognes myself because I don't find them pleasant. I smell overpriced pumps of chemicals in delicate, architecturally designed bottles that cost more than a week's worth of groceries. The only exception, in my opinion, is Gwen Stefani's L.A.M.B. fragrance. It was (I say was, because her company no longer makes the fragrance) a subtle, flowery scent that didn't offend my olfactory organs.
Anyway, I received free sample bottles of Elizabeth and James (a company started by Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen. I didn't know this either.) Nirvana Rose Eau de Parfum and Nirvana Bourbon Eau de Parfum from Sephora yesterday. I spritzed a bit of the Nirvana Rose on my wrist. Naw thanks. Too chemical-like for me, and I quickly had to escape the bathroom.
Following me from the bathroom to the living room were Opal and Otto. They sometimes follow me from one room to another, but after the spritzing in the bathroom, there was purpose in their
Opal and Otto are not sold on the fragrance
stalking, something between confusion and fear. I sat down, opened my laptop, and the two of them surrounded me, invading my personal space. Otto sniffed at my wrist, then tried to bite me. Opal began frantically sniffing my wrist, and because she has a chronic nasal issue, I thought she might actually pass out from all the sniffing. What the hell?
Sephora describes the fragrance as, "A seductive floral blend embodying the heart of a dark rose with notes of rose de mai, geranium, and vetiver for a sultry, refined scent with intrigue."
My cats say, "If this perfume could conjure the feeling of being allowed to go outside, eat grass until we yack, roll around in the dirt, spar with a mole, then go back inside and suck down catnip smoothies for the rest of the day, we would buy the hell out of that shit. This does not. The rose nodes are more woody than rosy and if we could gnaw our mommy's hand off, we would. Keep trying Olsen twins."
"I want to be honest with you, this isn't going to end well. Once they reach this age, and we see fluid in the lungs, they have maybe a month, tops, to live."
This is what the vet told me on Friday morning. May 29, 2015.
My routine is now different. It hasn't been interrupted exactly, just different, in a numb, going-through-the-motions kinda sorta way. We washed her food dish, but we placed it back on the floor, in her spot and as of today, it is still there. I see it staying there for the foreseeable future. I kiss my finger and touch it to the dish every morning and every evening when I feed Kwinn. He misses his sister. We all miss her.
Unconditional love. Humans and pets. Kat has been with me each time my life took a new turn. She was a constant. Philadelphia to Nashville. Nashville to Raleigh. Relationships. Break ups. My marriage to Poseidon. She was there, offering unconditional purrs. She was a rock. My rock. When we let a pet into our lives, we know it isn't going to be permanent. We know we will most likely outlive our furry companions. We know this, but we form that bond anyway. The animal-human bond is strong. Sometimes stronger than the human-human bond.
Katarina (Kat for short) was a beautiful presence. Her end was swift. It came out of nowhere. I took her to the vet because she hadn't eaten in 48 hours and her breathing seemed labored. Fast forward to the first sentence of this blog. Dr. Hunt (our compassionate, wonderful vet) drew the fluid out of Kat's lungs, and that seemed to make her feel better and she was able to breathe a bit easier. They wanted to keep an eye on her for a couple of hours, but the future was written. Poseidon and I might have a month with her before we had to say goodbye. I was preparing my head and heart to do just that. I waited the 2 hours for Dr. Hunt to tell me she was stable and OK to bring home and begin our goodbyes. The call came, but it wasn't what I had expected. Dr. Hunt told me that Kat's lungs had not expanded as she had hoped and that she was in distress. I asked her if it would be possible for me to bring her home for the night so that Poseidon and I could say a proper goodbye. She told me that Kat would not last the night. I cried into the phone. Dr. Hunt was truly sympathetic. I told her I was on my way. I called Poseidon to let him know. He wouldn't have time to meet me at the vet's office. He would not be able to say goodbye and hold her one last time.
Fortunately, I was. They led me to a dimly lit room, and they brought Kat in to me, swaddled in a soft blanket/bed type thing. As soon as they handed her to me, she began to purr. I licked her head (yes, I did. I was her momma for 14 years. I was her mother). She purred louder. She seemed OK and content. I spent 30 or so minutes holding her and telling her how much I loved her and what a joy she has been. I was happy she was purring and looking at me with those beautiful yellow-green eyes. I asked Dr. Hunt how it will happen, to make sure Kat would feel nothing. She explained to me that Kat will feel a little shot in her bottom, but it won't hurt. That shot will make her go to sleep, then they will administer another shot that will shut down her vital organs. Dr. Hunt asked if I wanted to be present, and I adamantly said, "No." I don't want her going to sleep at the hospital to be my last memory. We discussed her remains. Cremation. Yes, we would like her ashes. Dr. Hunt said they would take a clay print of her paw for us. Yes, that would be nice.
I handed our beautiful little girl to Dr. Hunt, knowing that she would make her last few minutes peaceful.
The staff handed me Kat's carrier and her collar (we always called it her 'pretty necklace'). I have it on my arm as I type. They led me out the back door so I wouldn't have to see other pets in the waiting room. That helped. My drive home? I don't remember it. I was in shock. The sun was shining but my world was dark.
Poseidon and I have been grieving, but we are doing well. We were very close to Kat. She was a child to us. The title of my post, "By the Way, How is my Heart?" is a line from John Gorka's song, "I Saw a Stranger With Your Hair." I know many probably want to vomit at his lyrics, but I've always found them soul-lifting. This is the song I had in my head on that short (yet long) drive from the vet's office to our home. I've been singing it ever since. Showers. Washing dishes. Eating lunch. Breathing.
"And by the way how is my heart? I haven't seen it since you left. I'm almost sure it followed you. Could you sometimes send it back? I'll buy the ticket." - John Gorka
I had to stop reading the news and Facebook yesterday because of the ish out there this week, so I'm looking to sacchariny things to turn a rubbishy week into a pleasant week. Only kittens and flowers allowed.
Photo source: no reliable identifiable source found
She had beautiful, long blue hair, but the deed had to be done, and so it was. That we are making fun of her now is salt in the wound.
Kat had to be shaved. Too many mats for one cat to handle. She is recovering from the ordeal, and Kwinn finally stopped hissing and spitting at her last week, so things are slowly getting back to normal at home, but I can't help thinking we owe her something. An apology gift? An apology gift for pissing her off, then giggling about it.
We aren't really going to buy her an apology gift, but Poseidon stumbled upon a great idea. I received an email from him today, telling me to, "Get ready to squee," with a link to something I was afraid to open (mostly because I didn't want to squee). A desk for humans to do human work while cats do cat work. “Cat Table” by Ruan Hao. I'm guessing this particular table isn't in our budget, and probably not for sale, but genius nonetheless.
“Cat Table”designed by Ruan Hao, exhibited in the University of Milan at Milan Design Week in 2014. Source: lycs-arc.com (via: boredpanda)
Kat's 'before' and 'after' shots...why we owe her a desk:
We put our living room carpet out of its misery and put down hardwoods. I don't know why, because our carpet was easily the coolest in the neighborhood. I haven't seen inside every neighbor's home, but I'm guessing no one else had chichi beige carpet with DIY orange polka dots (the polka dots = cat vomit, but I did say it was DIY).
Now we have nice dark floors, and everything is in the swim, but we need an area rug because the ottoman slides around the floor when we prop our feet on the thing.
I naively assumed rug shopping would be easy. We want a rug with some color, but it has to look ok with our light blue furniture. On the color wheel of contrasts, I'm looking at yellows and oranges. As you might imagine yellow and/or orange rugs are grotesque. To complicate matters, we are looking for size 6X9, which limits our selection to the valley of the most heinous (5X8 and 8X10 seem to be the cool kids) area rugs ever created.
After an exhaustive search online, and some of the big box stores, Poseidon and I stopped by a local rug and carpeting gallery last month. The salesperson was helpful, warm and friendly, but her, "You should think of an area rug as an investment" line hurt my head because I knew an area rug from her store was going to punch my wallet in the nose. An investment? An area rug in our home is going to be a place where cat vomit goes to die, while keeping the ottoman from sliding into the fireplace.
The rug search is still on, and I've viewed so many rug samples online that they appear in my dreams at night. I've had to take long breaks from looking, simply to keep my sanity in check.
Not only are we still rugless, we apparently aren't properly diversified. Stocks, bonds, mutual funds and area rugs seem to be the way to go.
This sweet birdie yarn bowl is the gift I've asked Santa to consider dropping down my chimney this Christmas. I took up knitting earlier this year, and I'm happy with my progress, but I manage to drop my yarn on a regular basis, and even the cats are no longer amused.
Fitbit. Poseidon and I have the Fitbit One™ and this little activity tracking gadget is a fitness motivator, for sure. I wear it everyday, and try to push myself to get in at least 5000 steps/day. During the day, I'm motivated to move more (which is great for the neck and back). The One™ tracks steps (even when biking or on an elliptical at the gym), stairs climbed, calories burned (including "existence" calories, calories you burn breathing, blinking, moving in your sleep, etc.), and miles traveled. This will make a great Christmas gift for folks looking for an extra push to stay healthy and active. The Fitbit One™ can also track sleep habits, but I don't use that feature. I already know I sleep.
If you know someone who lost a pet this year, consider giving them the gift of making a donation in memory of a pet. There are many charities out there. Petsmart Charities is one example. This precious angel is my own Kat, from December of last year. She wanted to help us wrap Christmas gifts, and she did a great job. Our apologies to everyone for the cat hair stuck in the tape.
Know anyone traveling in the near future? I bought a set of these Herb Lester maps for Poseidon two years ago (for our future European trips). The artwork is super, and these maps feature off-the-beaten-path sorts of things for major cities. A map devoted specifically to donut shops in New York. Paris for single travelers. Untamed London. The description they give for their Clandestine London map makes me giggle:
"The desire to see and be seen is not shared by all. For those who prefer to conduct business away from prying eyes, this map is for you.
We list 31 places with hidden alcoves and easy exits, neglected restaurants, unreconstructed wine bars, ancient pubs and even natural isolation. In these locations discretion is assured, it's entirely up to you to decide how you make use of that."
While I'm on the topic of travel, my passport expired in May, and I have to renew. I can't believe how expensive this is going to be! I might add this passport holder to my Christmas list for next year. More birds. I would have expected the whole bird motif thingy to be dead by now. It's a slow death.
I can't even believe I'm going to post these, but I can't help myself. Poseidon sent me a link to these several months ago (I'm not ever going to ask what is was he was searching for when he found them). Gnome shoes. These are neither in my budget nor my heel range, but so adorable (and sold out by now). For the cool, happy person who has everything (and a gifter who has too much), perhaps some gnome shoes for Christmas?
Tablescape. I'm sure the word has been around for a while, but it's new to me.
Tomorrow is Thanksgiving Day, and Poseidon and I are hosting dinner this year. I'm not crafty, but I do want to spruce up the dining room table. We haven't eaten at the dining room table in 3 years. Now that we've removed 27 pounds of clutter from the table (that took an entire Saturday), I'll go through 3 cans of Pledge tonight, just so the plates actually sit on the table, not floating on 3 inches of dust.
The cats are enjoying the clear table. It's a new cool place for depositing fur and those clumps of cat litter stuck to their paws. Dinner at 4!
Here's a tablescape to get you in the Thanksgiving mood...
Happy Thanksgiving, Amphitrite
ETA: My lazy version of tablescaping. I just didn't have it in me!
I realized, just today, that I haven't posted anything new since mid-October. Blogging is a hobby, and if I have nothing to say, I have nothing to say. My husband is the only one reading my blog anyway, so if I do have something to say, he hears it firsthand without having to waste eyeball energy.
What is happening, at this very moment? Kwinn (cat #1) is "dating" his blanket, less than 2 feet from me. Last week, I had a bit of a cold and stayed home for two days. Kwinn "dated" his blanket no less than 7 times each day. Seriously. I stopped counting at 7.
The worst part of going on vacation: It makes our fur babies so sad : (
Because of the hustle around here, they know something is up, and I can tell by Kwinn's demeanor that he is preparing for the Apocalypse. I mean, damn, he has abandonment issues, and separation is painful, yet there is nothing I can ever do to alleviate those fears, except be with him 24/7. I truly cannot take a piss (sorry Mom, I hope piss is ok to say) without him following me to the bathroom. I do nothing to discourage the behavior, so whining about it is ridiculous.
So, after a cleaning frenzy, I'm settling down with my laptop, and I snapped a couple of pictures. My heart is breaking, but they will be well looked after (thanks Tyler), and I'll think of them everyday, from the lovely coast, and I'll bring them each a shot glass.
Kwinn with Daddy's cap, and Kat on Mommy's mouse pad : (
