A cute video...

This week’s blog post is a bit of a cheat one, as I won’t be writing much.

There’s a YouTube channel called “Cole and Marmalade” which is well worth a watch for a giggle as well as for really good information on cats and cat rescue. Cole and Marmalade are adorable and their parents are pretty good too!

I saw a video the other day about why cat mums (moms) are awesome (or pawsome!).

It made me smile, and get a bit teary too. It’s how I feel about my two cats, and my dog as well of course! And, okay, my four fish…though it’s a little bit different with them as snuggling with them is not really an option…

For all us fur-mums (and dads), especially those who couldn’t have human kids…

Why Cat Moms are Pawsome

And here’s the link to the “Cole and Marmalade” website…

Cole and Marmalade

And here are our fur-babies...

Odi getting yet another toy...

Felix reckons Mum gives the best cuddles...

Frankie hinting that I should be paying her attention...

And our angel fur-babies...

Ari was only a little dog...

Minerva's favourite perch from when she was a kitten..

An old soul...

We took the eleven year old daughter of our friends out on Saturday. We went on a dolphin cruise on the Port River in Adelaide and we even saw four dolphins! We were the only ones to see one of the dolphins which was pretty special!

Jess knew that Ari had died and in the car on the way to the Port she said about how sad she was that Ari was gone and how it must be really hard for us.

She said “He was like your child…so he was like my cousin too.”

Okay – I’ve got tears in my eyes right now.

This beautiful, amazing girl said so simply and honestly exactly how we felt about our Ari. He was our child.

She showed more understanding than many adults would and with such simplicity and honesty.

We adore her so much – she is a pure delight in our lives – and I know for sure she is an old soul.

We love you Jess! 

Me, Jess, and Kirby

The Port Adelaide River

One of the tall ships the "One and All"

Jess with her Dad, and Kirby with Ari when he was a puppy.
Jess can't remember a time when Ari wasn't around.

Odi...

After last week’s sad entry I thought I would share with you a video to make you smile.

I was really worried after Ari died that our other dog, Odi, would fret quite badly. But, while he’s been a bit confused and looking for Ari, we’ve had him inside more and he is proving quite the well-behaved indoor dog!

My Mum and Dad bought him a new toy “Giggle” as well, which he absolutely loves. Toys and presents are Odi’s absolutely favourite things! He even tries to take presents that are given to Kirby and me…if he can get to them first!!

So, here is a video of Odi playing with Giggle…

Ari...

Well – this past fortnight has been extremely sad and Kirby and I are still in shock.

Our nine year old German Short-haired Pointer, Ari, was absolutely fine a few weeks’ ago. He played, ate, and was the silly larrikin he always was.

Then about a fortnight ago he refused his dinner, which he had never done before. Breakfast and dinner time were the best times of day for him!

I took him to the vet and it seemed he had a bit of a stomach bug. I offered him chicken and rice (as per the vet’s instructions) when we got back home and he ate that down quite happily. Over the next few days he returned to his normal self.

Then early last week he wouldn’t eat again and I took him back to the vet. The vet took blood and tested it, and everything was fine. He did have a yeast infection in his ears and it seemed he also got something in his eye – so we started treating both of those things.

Ari ate the next day and we planned to take him to the vet for a check-up later in the week.

Then on Thursday night Ari started breathing really heavily (using his entire body to try and breathe), he was having trouble walking, and looked terrible. We rushed him to the emergency vet and they admitted him as he was clearly in pain, and they told us they would do scans on Friday and then call us with the results.

The results were not what we what we ever thought we would hear. Ari had lung cancer.

Kirby and I went to see him. He could barely walk, and just wanted to lie down. He knew we were there, but didn’t wag his tail – he just didn’t have the energy. He couldn’t lift his head, and so I sat down on the floor and lifted his head onto my lap and patted him. Kirby sat down on the other side of Ari and stroked his head.

The vet came in and Kirby went to stand up, but the vet sat down on the floor with us – which was lovely for her to do. She explained it all. He had a large amount of tumours in his lungs, which was why he couldn’t breathe properly, and there was no treatment because of the stage of the cancer. We could have had him go for more scans (more invasive) to make sure it was cancer – but the vet said she was 99% sure it was. The tumours were the shape of cancerous tumours.

We were given time alone with Ari to talk about what we would do, but really there was only one thing we could do. He was in so much pain – it wasn’t fair to keep him going any longer.

The vet came back in and Kirby and I held Ari and patted him as the vet gave him the injection to put him to sleep. He stopped breathing and slipped away from us.

Just as I wrote that last paragraph I felt that tightening in my chest that happens when somebody tells you bad news.

This is just a bad dream…surely? 

New fish babies…

The sadness continued after my last entry as on the following weekend the last of the four babies I bought in recent months, Clancy, died. This left little Angel alone and quite despondent. I know that fish used to be thought of as quite brainless – but research is showing that they do have emotions and form types of friendships with other fish.

So, poor little Angel (who is normally quite outgoing) was hiding behind the rock in the pond, barely eating, and not coming out to see me when I called to him.

I couldn’t leave him all on his own and so I cleaned the pond thoroughly to make sure there were no remnants of whatever it was that made Clancy, Dickon, Ned, and Loki so sick – this even included wiping over the water snails so that there was as little algae as possible on them. Kirby and I then went to a pet shop (NOT the one I went to before!) to get three new babies.

I couldn’t decide between three different types, so I got one of each – an orange comet, a yellow comet, and a calico fantail.  After the staff member put the three fish into a bag for me to take them home I asked her if the fish all spoke the same language – you know, because they are different types. It took a moment for her to realise I was joking!

The babies have settled into the pond nicely. As soon as I put the bag in the pond Angel was out from hiding, doing crazy swims around the pond, coming up and looking through the plastic bag at the newcomers, doing another crazy swim, then peeking into the bag again, and so forth. Needless to say he is a happy little fish now with his new friends.

I named the yellow fish Uthai (which is Thai for rising sun), the calico fish Dana (which is Irish Gaelic for cheeky – which suits her well), and the orange fish Jupiter – just because it’s a cool name.

I won’t forget the other fish I had – and these new fish don’t replace them in my heart – I still love Clancy, Ned, Dickon, and Loki. But, there isn’t a quota on the love we can feel and so I can easily love my new babies as well as, and not instead of.

Beautiful Clancy

From top to bottom - Dana, Uthai, Angel, and Jupiter

When a puppy comes for Christmas – it can change your life…

About three weeks ago I was looking at the Infertility Network UK newsletter and I saw a review of a book called “The Puppy that Came for Christmas and Stayed Forever” by Megan Rix.

There was a puppy on the cover. So of course I had to buy it. And I am so glad I did.

“The Puppy that Came for Christmas” is about Megan and her husband Ian’s journey to try and have a child. It is a story about the emotional rollercoaster that infertility is – and the challenges that so many of us are familiar with. Hearing the news that having a baby is not going to be easy, or may not even be possible, is so heart wrenching. Spending time with people who have children, and particularly with those who have just had a baby, can be so difficult to bear. I could relate to so much of what Megan and Ian went through.

What was different about this book from many personal stories of infertility is that through all of this the focus was very much on how Megan and Ian found a new way of living – a new way of having a family and a life that they value and love.

I won’t give too much away, but that new kind of life started when Megan and Ian volunteered to foster a puppy that would eventually become a helper dog. They took Emma in from when she was eight weeks old to when she was around six months old, when she went on to do her advanced helper dog training.

Emma introduced a whole new way of life that gave so much to Megan and Ian. And even though there was heartbreak when they had to let Emma go at six months of age (something I don’t think I could do – and was unbelievable selfless of Megan and Ian), she started something special.

It’s how I feel about my life now. Although there are times when I still grieve for our babies, and I feel the emotions of jealousy and anger, and the question rises once more of “why us?”, Kirby and I have a life we love. We have our dogs and cats and fish, and our nieces and nephews, we have us, we have travelling to do, and we have a freedom which we wouldn’t have if we had children. Our life is not better than if we had children – it’s our situation, it’s different, and we’ve decided to embrace it as much as possible.

When the end of the book was drawing near I found it hard to finish – I must admit. This wasn’t because it was poorly written, but because I didn’t want to say “goodbye” to my new “friends”. I had been on a journey with people (as well as their dogs) that I related to – and I felt as though Megan and Ian had become my friends. This is something unique, and a testament to Megan and Ian’s story, and the way Megan has written about it.

If – or, I hope, when – you read “The Puppy that Came for Christmas”, you will read about an incident in the book that left me furious when I read it. I think you will know it when you find it, and perhaps, like me, you will wish you could be there to put the particular woman involved in her place and wrap your arms around Megan to comfort and protect her. It happened during a puppy training session and it’s to do with just who makes the best puppy parents…that’s all I’m going to say…

If you have experienced infertility and love dogs I am certain you will love this book.

Actually, even if you’ve never experienced infertility, but you love dogs – you will love this book.

Get ready to fall in love…

And finally here are our boys…who we love so very much…

All the small things...

On Sunday it was a year since we put our beautiful cat Minerva down. She was 15 years old, and her kidneys were failing and she only had about 10 percent lung capacity. We didn’t want her to suffer. It was an honour to be there for her as she took her last breath and passed away while we told her over and over again that we loved her – and we still do love her.

In honour of her and the one year anniversary of her death I put her urn with her ashes in the sunshine. I lit some incense and Kirby and I sat and remembered all the funny things she used to do.

We laughed a lot recalling different things. Such as the time when I was blowing on the top of a bottle to make musical sounds, and she came running in, jumped on my lap, smacked me in the face with her paw, then got down and ran back up the hallway. I guess she didn’t like the music I was making! I recall sitting there stunned and then bursting out laughing hysterically – as did Kirby as he was a witness to it.

Thinking about Minerva and all the little things she used to do got me thinking about all the small things in my life that make life interesting, fun, humbling, and sometimes have me feeling wistful.

All the small things that I am honoured to have in my life.

So instead of writing more – here is a collage of just some of the small things I love.

Puppy love...

Time really does pass by quickly! I thought I’d only missed a week of blog entries, but it seems it’s getting close to three weeks…whoops!

The truth is that I haven’t been feeling well lately in terms of mental and physical health. Struggling is a word that comes to mind. I won’t go into all of it as the blog entry “Where I am…” on the 28^th of July says it all. The feelings and thoughts I wrote about in that entry became more intense in early August and I’ve been to see a psychologist who has helped me immensely. I do want to share with you my revelations and the changes in my thinking…but not today…

Today I want to write about a little puppy who has kind of broken my heart this week.

Three good boys...Odi, Ari, and Charlie

We have been looking after my sister-in-law’s puppy, Charlie, for the past ten nights. Charlie is ten months old, extremely wriggly, and very, very cheeky. Our dogs, Ari and Odi, adore him. Our cats, Felix and Frankie, on the other hand, aren’t so impressed with Charlie being in the house. Frankie taught Charlie all about claws when he got too close to her. Luckily Charlie is smart and went out of his way to avoid her from then on.

As the nights passed I realised that I was regularly counting how many more nights Charlie was staying. It was six nights, now five, now only four. It was going way too quickly. I didn’t want to give Charlie back. It wasn’t “Oh, Charlie is so cute – I want to keep him” in a joking way. I couldn’t even think about giving him back. I didn’t want to and I feared my heart would break if we did. I tried to think of ways that we might be able to keep him, while knowing all along that it wasn’t an option.

Even the thought of Charlie not being here with us made me cry.

I couldn’t understand why I felt so passionate about keeping him and so desolate at the thought of Charlie going home. It wasn’t like we would never see him again and we had our four fur-kids to look after and love.

It was in the psychologist’s office, after she had asked me why I was feeling sad, that I had a revelation.  I burst into tears and said that I didn’t want to give Charlie back because it made me think of Minerva and losing her (see blog entry "Sweet Dreams..."). I miss her so much and giving Charlie back, while not the same as Minerva dying, brought up intense feelings of loss.

Charlie in his bed...

Then there was the realisation about how nice it was to have a baby in the house. Okay, I know Charlie is a dog, but he is also a puppy. He needed to be comforted more than Ari and Odi (who are seven and eight respectively) and he wanted to come inside and go to his bed to have naps. Charlie has a bed that has zippered flaps to keep him in, but he’s managed to chew a hole through the front flap. As such we put the front of the bed to the wall and put him in his bed using the flap at the top of the bed. 

When I picked Charlie up and put him in his bed it felt like I was placing a baby in its cradle.

So, Charlie filled some of the missing pieces in my heart from losing Minerva and wanting a baby. It was comforting and I didn’t want it to end. I feared that the feelings of sadness, loss, and even the anger, associated with these two losses would rise again.

It seems we never truly “get over” any loss that we experience and that grief can return, even if only slightly, with every loss that occurs in the future. And this loss might be as simple as having to give a puppy back to his owners after ten nights of caring for him.

Charlie's close up...

Charlie went home last night. I miss him so much, and Ari is very lost without his little minion, but it was heart-warming to see Charlie so excited to see his (human) mummy and (human) brother after so long. It was as it should be to take Charlie home.

And now I know that my grief about Minerva and my grief about not having a baby linger still.

Where I am...

I’m struggling. There’s no other way to put it. Every day I think about my life and how second rate it is, how I have done nothing, how I am nothing. I cry one or two times a day. I do feel sort of happy if I don’t think too much. I feel like the day is mine – at least before I get out of bed.

I look at my friends and family and I think about my life.

I never thought I would be in the situation that I am in now. When I was a kid I thought life had a certain trajectory and that I would follow that. I learnt in my twenties (through having serious illnesses) that this trajectory is not accurate – life doesn’t go from A to B to C etc. for most people. Still, I thought there were aspects of life that would be mine.

This expectation was amplified when I met Kirby. I had met my soul mate and I was in a job that I loved. So from then on I foresaw that I would have a career and my children would come along very soon.

That was almost ten years ago and life, at least in those two aspects, couldn’t be more different. I watch my friends and family having children and/or succeeding in their careers. I have neither. I have no children and I have no career.

What am I then? Who am I?

Honestly, I feel like I am nothing.

I know life isn’t perfect for anyone and that everyone goes through times when they feel like they aren’t worth anything – even if they have a career and/or children.

I also know that comparing my life to others is pointless as nobody knows the reality of another’s experiences and feelings. I know this, but I can’t seem to shake the feeling that I am not good enough, and I don’t even know where to start to try and find some meaning and purpose for me in the way that I can.

I’ve just turned 40, but I really don’t think my feelings have anything to do with this. I think it is more to do with Minerva (my fifteen year old cat) dying in May. It doesn’t seem like that long since I brought her home as a nine week old kitten and now she is gone. Fifteen years of my life with her and now she isn’t with me anymore. Maybe much of what I’m feeling right now is my grief for her.

Minerva

It’s also because there is a possibility that she could still be alive today. I took her to a vet last year who didn’t diagnose her kidney condition, and should have, and also prescribed Minerva with a medication that should not be given to cats with kidney problems. Minerva, if diagnosed then, might have been put on medication that could have helped her live a longer and healthier life. I feel like that is my fault. I didn’t research what was happening to her. I didn’t find out for myself what her symptoms could mean. I let her down. At least I feel like I did.

Ten years ago...

The tenth anniversary of when Kirby and I met is coming up in October. I think this has a great deal to do with how I am feeling as well.  There was so much excitement about our children. But, they’re not here. They’ll never be here.

Dreams coming true...

I don’t have a career and I don’t have children. What am I doing with my life? What is the point of it? I am so confused right now. I get up and I think about what I could do and then I feel like a car that starts, but then just keeps on stalling on the driveway. And even if I got onto the road – I have no idea what direction I would, could, or should drive in.

I am utterly and completely lost. Am I not moving because I don’t know what direction to take, or am I not acknowledging or taking the direction I know is for me because I am afraid?

I’m in a pit. But damn it if I’m going to stay here. I’m going to find footholds, no matter how tiny they are, and I’m going to reach for the love and hands of other people to help me climb out again. I don’t know when, but I have to hold onto the hope that it will happen.

Turning 40...

Here’s a very important tip when making a curry. If you are using a hand held blender to make the sauce make sure that the blender is turned off before you try to take one blade off to replace it with the one you need. Otherwise, like me last night, you’ll end up with an interesting cut on your finger which will really, really, really hurt and make you wonder if you are going to spend the night in the emergency department!

Fortunately my finger stopped bleeding quickly and I didn’t need stitches. 

And a positive I can take out of the incident was that Kirby had to finish making dinner!

I think it’s fair to blame my lack of attention to on turning 40 in the past week.  I’m officially over the hill now…so it’s only to be expected…

Of course I’m joking. At times I am just clumsy – I was clumsy in my teens, my twenties, and my thirties.

Turning 40, for me, is a milestone – it is not the end of anything, but is the beginning of something new. I told people before my birthday that it was just a number, but I don’t feel like that anymore. It is more than that – it is a time for changing the basis of my life.

My life was very different to now when I turned thirty. I was living in my lovely one bedroom apartment with my darling girl, Minerva. I was single and wondering whether staying single was a path I should actively pursue. I was in the fifth year of a job as a student advocate – which was a job I adored and I still miss (much of this is to do with the people I worked with). I had my friends and family and I was enjoying life.

But, even though I could see myself staying single I still had that deep desire to meet my life partner and have children of my own. Many of my friends were committing to their partners or getting married and/or having children. The reminder of what I really wanted was all around me.

I had no idea of the mountainous adventure that lay before me in the coming decade. What a ride!

Here’s a quick summary. Ready?

I met Kirby and moved in with him and then we bought an old bungalow together which we planned to renovate. I sold my lovely little apartment. I gained a whole new set of family and friends that came with Kirby. Kirby and I were married. We were blessed with new nieces and nephews (through both family and friends). I lost touch with friends I thought would be life-long and made new friends who I believe will really be life-long. My beloved Nan died. We brought home our gorgeous little Ari (not so little now!) and adopted our funny little Odi. We gave a home to one of my colleague’s cats (Felix). We looked after my sister-in-law’s cat, Frankie, for what was to be a few months, but seven years later she is still living with us. I was made redundant from my advocacy job due to the organization I was working at being closed down. My Dad was seriously ill and nearly died. I tried to run a dog training franchise without much success. I’ve had two or three bouts of serious depression which lasted a couple of months each. I’ve had three or four other jobs all in administrative roles. Kirby and I realized we were having trouble conceiving a child. We lost two babies to very early miscarriage. We tried IVF but the two embryos that were transferred into me died which devastated us. I started working for myself as an editor. We went on a dream holiday to New York. I completed a Masters in Creative Writing. Through some kind of unconscious unfolding we realized we wouldn’t be trying IVF again. I’ve lost touch with family members who I was close to and miss terribly. We moved house to be closer to our nephew, and because we realized our old house and the constant need to repair it wasn’t for us. Our Minerva died after a short illness. I went on a holiday all by myself to Thailand to Boon Lott’s Elephant Sanctuary.

Throughout all of this I have been constantly trying to define my identity and my spiritually. I’ve tried to pick one type of spirituality (or religion) from Buddhism, Hinduism, Yoga, various forms of Paganism, and Christianity. I’ve read numerous books on being happy and on positive thinking. I’ve sat down with pen and paper and tried to draw a path to a life where I would be content and where I would have a constant link to something higher than myself. I tried to get to a place where I would finally have everything about my life sorted out. I thought about myself a lot. I was completely immersed in the self-help movement.

I think much of this trying to define everything has partially been because of being unable to have children. Something so huge that I was sure would be part of Kirby and my lives just didn’t happen and in response I tried to grab hold of the other aspects of my life so they wouldn’t slip away and so that I could find some kind of identity when I realized I wouldn’t  be a mother. I needed a new meaning for my life.

Something has changed recently. I think it started before I went to Thailand but it became clearer while I was in that amazing country. I’ve been spending so much time on myself that I am missing the real life that is all around me. I am missing the people, the experiences, the just being, the emotions, the failures, the success, the chance encounters…it’s true I have seen all of these things but I haven’t been fully immersed in them because I have been afraid that I will be wrong.

It’s utter rubbish really. The whole thing is just crazy. I spent most of my time trying so hard to fit into a mold of what I thought I should be and what I thought my life should be that I ended up twisted and tormented.

When I was in Thailand, especially when I was at the elephant sanctuary, I saw people who had very little but they were happy. Sure they strived to have the necessities of life and they had goals, but they were happy while they were waiting to see what their lives would bring. They didn’t need some book telling them how to work themselves out. They didn’t need some self-help guru harping on about how positive thinking and intent would ensure everything they wanted would come to them. They just got on with it. They worked, they smiled, they wept, they helped each other out, they shared with each other and with me what little they had, and they spent time with their families and friends just being in the open spaces under their home-made homes.

It’s opened my eyes to just how self-centered I was being. I was constantly thinking about what would be in it for me if I did something or shared something. I kept my stuff to myself and worried about whether the curtains we had were okay and whether the house was clean enough to meet other people’s standards (which were imagined standards by me). It just doesn’t make sense to me, anymore, to live like this.

While I’m not going to let our house become a dirty mess, and from time to time I will reflect on what is going on in my life, I won’t be letting these things get in the way of living.

It’s okay to reflect and to read books on improving life, and it is definitely okay to have a connection to that something greater than me, but at some point I have to get on with living. I have to take risks in reaching out to people, I have to let things go, I have to love the people in my life, I have to let people go when they need to, I have to weep and laugh, be angry and be at peace, and let my emotions have a healthy reign on me sometimes. All I have to do is be and love people and animals and life – just the way it all is. I have to let go of controlling everything in my life and taking responsibility for things that are just not in my control, while having passion for those things I choose that I can perhaps do something about.

I have tried hard, in my thirties, to sort myself out.  But, I realize now that nothing in life is ever irrevocably sorted out. And I mean absolutely nothing. At the beginning of my thirties, and especially when I met Kirby, I thought I knew where my life was going.

At the beginning of my forties I have no idea what life has in store for me.  So it’s time to let it go and just see what happens and not be so serious about myself. It really is liberating.

To Thailand…

I wanted to write something profound about all the emotions and thoughts I felt and had this week since Minerva died, but I am just too tired. The grief over losing Minerva is taking its toll, as grief always does.

Instead – I’m just going to let you know that I won’t be writing any blog entries for the next two and half weeks. I will be leaving for my long awaited trip to Thailand on Sunday!

For those who don’t know what I’m talking about – for my fortieth birthday, instead of having a big party, I am going to Thailand to stay at an elephant sanctuary (Boon Lott’s Elephants Sanctuary) for a week and will then be checking out Sukhothai and Chiang Mai the week after that.

It is going to be quite the adventure and I will have so much to write about and many photos to share when I get back.

Sweet dreams...

Over the last week Minerva’s health deteriorated rapidly. Her breathing became more labored, she wasn’t eating much at all, and when I picked her up she would be struggling to breathe and seemed to be in pain. I was lost as to what to do and Kirby was away from Monday to Friday. On Friday afternoon I made an appointment with the vet for yesterday (Saturday) morning. I had a fading hope that something more could be done for her, but I knew that this was unlikely.

On Friday night I lay down on the floor beside Minerva’s little bed (she had taken to sleeping in the wardrobe since she became ill) and I patted her and talked to her. I asked her to let me know when she was ready to go.

In the early hours of yesterday Minerva woke me up by pulling at the covers to get in under them with me for a cuddle. She hadn’t done that since she became ill. She curled up next to me, purring, and looking at me with those beautiful green-yellow eyes. Somehow I knew she was telling me she was ready.

Kirby woke me up in the morning and Minerva was under the quilt in between us. We gave her cuddles and told her we loved her for near on twenty minutes. Kirby said that Minerva had eaten some tuna (one of her favorite foods) for breakfast.

When I got up yesterday morning I was amazed to see the sun shining. Friday’s weather was stormy and cold and yesterday was supposed to be the same. I had said to Kirby on Friday that it wasn’t fair that Minerva wouldn’t get to sit in the sun again. But, the storms and clouds held off long enough for Minerva to sit in her favorite chair by the window, taking in the garden and the warmth of the sun, one more time, while we got ready to take her to the vet.

We told the vet, at the clinic, that we thought it was Minerva’s time to go because she was getting worse. He was surprised by what we said – until he examined her. Her lung capacity was 10% and her heart was under so much pressure that she was in pain. I asked if anything more could be done even though I already knew the answer. The vet said that we could double one of her medicines, but that this would affect her kidneys, and the best we could expect was for her to live a few more weeks – if the medicine worked at all.

We knew it was time to let her go. We didn’t want her to suffer anymore and I couldn’t bear the thought of her dying during a seizure, or from a heart attack, and I especially didn’t want her to die alone.

Minerva died in our arms at 10.30 yesterday morning – 15 years, 4 months, and 7 days from when I first saw her in the pet shop and knew that she was mine and that I was hers.

My love is with you always my little angel.

My Minerva...

I haven’t written a blog entry for almost two weeks. My heart, soul, and mind have been inundated with sorrow and confusion.

Helping in the garden...

Just a month ago my cat, Minerva, would chase me down the hall, carry her blue mouse toy to me so that I would play with her, had an excellent appetite, followed me everywhere, helped me with the gardening, and loved to play hide and seek.

Just on two weeks ago I noticed a difference in her. She was vomiting up some funny clear foamy liquid. She seemed more tired than usual, and she wasn’t eating much. I took her to the vet who did tests which showed that her kidneys are not working very well at all. I was given tablets to lower her blood pressure so that her kidneys would be able to work better and I have changed her diet to include less protein and more wet food than dry.

About a week ago her breathing seemed to be more of an effort for her. It was labored and when she took in a breath her head actually wobbled. Kirby and I took her back to the vet and he did more tests and found that her heart wasn’t working as well as it should and fluid had built up around her heart and lungs. We were given another lot of medication to remove the fluid from around her lungs and help her to breathe easier.

She can have the new medication mixed with food that she likes which makes it easier, except her appetite is very low. She isn’t even interested in her once favorite food – yoghurt. So, we have to wrap her in a towel and administer it to her using a syringe into mouth. She hates it and cries and scratches. It breaks my heart and I can’t help but cry every time I do it – which is two times a day. We have to keep going though, because she may improve and her appetite may come back – we just don’t know at this stage and all we have is hope.

She had to be in our wedding photos too...

The weirdest part of all of this is that last year I had a premonition that Minerva was going to die while I was on my trip to Thailand. I leave for Thailand in a few weeks. At first, when Minerva became sick and I thought about the premonition, I believed she would definitely die while I was away, but I think about it differently now. Perhaps the premonition put me on alert, more than I might have been, to changes in her health, and now that we have her on medications she might improve and live longer.

I hope so.

Kirby and I have talked about what he will do if Minerva gets very sick while I am away and needs to be euthanized. One of the things we have agreed on is that he will not tell me should Minerva be euthanized until I return home from Thailand. The other thing is that we don’t want her to suffer. I have read of people whose cats have renal conditions and they need to have injections every day to prevent dehydration. I couldn’t do that to Minerva as she would be too stressed every time. If it came to that point then it would be time to let her go. It would also be time to let her go if she became very underweight, couldn’t control her bowels and bladder, couldn’t walk properly, or was in pain. Our vet is wonderful and we would discuss all of this with him and/or his staff as well.

I am so confused – one minute I have so much hope and the next minute I am full of fear and despair. I guess I am in a bit of shock as she has never had any health issues before and she has become sick so quickly.

I feel angry that she is sick now, when I am not going to be with her for a fortnight. I even feel angry at her sometimes. That seems cruel I guess, to be angry at her, but I’ve realized that this is part of grief. I am grieving even though she is still here. I am grieving the loss of her playing, her constant companionship, and her bundles of energy. I have tried to bargain that if she is to die that she doesn’t die while I am away, but when I am back and that she dies in her sleep lying next to me at night.

At nine weeks of age...

She might not die while I am away, but the chances of her dying in her sleep next to me, I know, are not great. Being a cat, she is hiding herself away – which they usually do when they are ill and when they are close to dying.

Minerva is fifteen years old and she has been my companion through the end of a five year relationship fourteen years ago, episodes of depression, meeting Kirby, our wedding, moving house four times, going through IVF, and grieving for our children. For two years it was Minerva and me against the world when I had my apartment before meeting Kirby.

My gorgeous girl...

She is my friend, my gorgeous girl, my Minerva Mouse. She is my fur baby. I am going to miss her more than I can put into words. 

How long have we got?

My fish Ursula...

Sad news – I haven’t seen my beautiful fish Ursula for over a week. I have to accept that she has died – fish either rise to the surface or sink when they die, depending on what was wrong.

She was eight years old and I could pat her and hand feed her, and she was one of the first generation to be born in my pond.

I love my fish very much, as regular readers of my blog know, and I feel absolutely devastated. 

Ursula when she was very small...

Welcome to the pond…

Regular readers will know how much I love my pets – including our fish in our pond out the back. In October last year I was excited to see that some of my fish were ready to lay eggs and that we would have baby fish.

In my 9^th of January entry this year I wrote that I had finally realised we weren’t going to be having any baby fish this year. I had only seen a few a couple of months ago and hadn’t seen them since.

Well, it seemed that they were waiting for me to give up before showing themselves! Yesterday I was feeding the fish and two little babies darted in and out of the pond plants. They are too small to see what their colours will be, but they are big enough that they can survive.

So welcome to the pond Sally and Lightening! And, I’ll forgive you for trying to make me out to be a liar my little darlings…

Empty arms and sweet cats…

The other day I was on Facebook and checking out the activities and latest photos of my friends.

It suddenly struck me that most of the photos I was looking at were of my school friends with their children.

There was one photo in particular where my friend was pulling a face in a photo with her son and daughter (they were also pulling faces). It was a gorgeous snapshot of an ordinary, but special, family moment.

My arms suddenly felt very empty.

It doesn’t happen as much as it used to, but sometimes my arms ache to hold our children. I feel like there is a heaviness in my arms where they should be, and I almost feel that if I held my arms out long enough they would come into being and smile up at me.

I could almost believe it if it weren’t for the heaviness that is in my heart because they are not here with us.

That night I went to bed and had a bit of a cry. Our cat, Minerva, was curled up on the pillow next to me as always, and then our black cat, Frankie, jumped up on the bed with a chirrup and stared at me. She then nestled her body and head into the crook of my arm and put her paw over my stomach (as much as she could anyway). I’ve never heard her purr so loudly!

Frankie

Minerva

My animals always amaze me by how they can pick up when I am upset and will sit with me and do what they can in their own ways to comfort me. It’s especially touching when I am missing my children.

I should add, though, that later on when I had stopped crying Frankie bit me because I wasn’t patting her in quite the right way! That’s my girl!

You won't believe this, but the song The Lovecats” by “The Cure” just came on!! Great song! 

I'm going to be a Grandma...

Did that get your attention?

About eight years ago Kirby and I bought four tiny little fish home to put in our pond – we named them Katherine (grey fish), Humphrey (multi coloured), Ginger (orange and white) and Fred (pure orange). They were gorgeous, friendly and actually came when they were called – I’m not sure what the neighbours thought hearing me say “fish, fish” in a high pitched voice!

A year later my parents-in-law moved house and brought down a gorgeous black fish to join our fish and he settled in nicely. We named him Laurence. Yes there was a theme back then – Katherine Hepburn, Humphrey Bogart, Ginger Rogers, Fred Astaire, and now Laurence Olivier.

I was feeding the fish, just over a year after Laurence came to live with us, and I thought I saw some tiny little creatures flitting from one pond plant to another. At first I thought they were mosquito larvae, but I watched them closely and realised they were baby fish! This was the first generation of babies.

We now had a gorgeous grey fellow who we named Dylan and a pretty orange fish we called Ursula. This time we had the theme of writers and poets to name the fish – Dylan Thomas and Ursula Le Guin.

In the following years we have had four more generations of babies. Sadly some of them didn’t make it past the first year or two and the first five fish we had have also passed away.

When we moved house I was not going to leave my fish behind. We took a new pond to my parents’ house and set it up and then took the fish down there. When we were all settled in our new house we brought the pond and the fish home and they are very happy here.

While we were getting the fish out of the pond at my Mum and Dad’s we discovered two more babies that we didn’t know were there.

So, now in our pond we have Dylan, Ursula, Sydney, George, Flynn, Harriett, Holly, Maisie, Scarlett, Harry, Milly, Mika and Charlie (there’s no logical theme to naming them anymore...except Holly is named after Holly Shiftwell from Cars 2). They are all as friendly as the fish before them were – I guess they learnt that I was okay and was the bearer of food from the generations before them.

A few weeks back I was sitting by the pond watching the fish and I noticed that George was looking particularly chubby, as were some of the others. They were carrying eggs!

The other day their chubbiness had diminished and all the fish were chasing each other around the pond…safe to say I can expect more babies in the next few weeks…yay! They will be born in about 7-10 days, but I won’t be able to see them for some time after that because they are so small.

I’m really excited and I am already thinking about names, and wondering who they will look like – for example, Dylan has to be Katherine’s descendant, and there is a distinct look of Humphrey in Holly.

Hmm…now that I think about it…I’m not going to be a Grandma…I’m going to be a Great-Great-Great-Great-Great Grandma! I feel old now…

I’ll let you know when the babies appear!

Discipline...

There is a woman called Jo Frost who is known as the “Supernanny”. She has television shows where she assists parents in learning how to communicate and guide (or discipline) their children.

I really like the methods she presents. She advocates giving choices to children, using time out as a way to respond to unwanted behaviour, and explaining to children why they were put in time out and the impact their behaviour had on other people, and asking them to apologise. It’s amazing how well this works. Many of the children in the families Jo works with go from destructive and rude behaviour (even to the point of hitting or swearing at their parents/caregivers) to happy children who love their lives. They are not necessarily perfect, but their parents can communicate with them, whereas before they were at their wits end.

Kirby and I always planned to use Jo’s methods with our kids, and we do.

     

Mr Innocence

We use them with our cat, Felix. Well – a version of them anyway. Our cat, Felix, can be so kind and loving and give his feline sisters, Minerva and Frankie, kisses. But sometimes he turns into evil psycho cat and stalks his sisters, jumps on them, and goads them into battle. The girls hate it. He is a lot bigger than they are and easily pins them down. The girls meow and hiss and we know Felix is up to no good.

Well, we knew that until recently. I was watching Frankie one day, without her knowing I was there, and Felix walked past her. She hissed and meowed and carried on like he had attacked her. But, he hadn’t. Before I would have disciplined him, but I now knew he wasn’t always to blame.

I’ve realised the tell-tale sign of whether Felix has actually attacked his sisters is whether his tale is all fluffy. If it is – he’s been naughty.

That’s when I step in – and Felix runs and tries to hide, because he knows what’s coming next. Generally it is a game of corner the Felix until I can catch him. Without a word, I pick him up and carry him towards the bathroom.

He puts out his front paws to try and latch on to every door frame that we pass in a vain attempt to stop me taking him to the bathroom, but that doesn’t really work. He’s bigger than Min and Frankie, but I’m bigger than him!

I put him in the bathroom, put on the fan, close the door, and leave him in there for a few minutes. He hates it. I hear his pitiful meows, and I must admit it is quite funny.

After his “time out” has passed I open the door a fraction and ask him to apologise. He has to meow and then he is allowed out again. He has generally calmed down and is a little bit sorry for himself.

He never, ever attacks the girls again – at least not until the next day…

Who would have thought that Jo Frost’s methods of disciplining children would work for a cat as well?

My insights...

So what were my insights from last week?

I’ve done some more reading on Yoga, in particular, this week, and the premises of Yoga are very similar to those of Buddhism. Enlightenment is the goal – but this isn’t some airy fairy transcendental experience. You don’t go off flying into the air or suddenly have the wisdom of the entire world at your disposal. It is much more subtle than that, but it’s also something I have most definitely not achieved…not yet at least!

Part of trying to achieve enlightenment is to cultivate a kind of detachment. I misunderstood this for many years in that I thought detachment meant being devoid of any feelings or even caring for the things around and within us. You just let everything happen and feel nothing towards anything in particular. This couldn’t be further from the truth. Now, I’m the first to admit that my understandings of Yoga, Buddhism and Hinduism are far from complete – I have a lot to learn – but this is my understanding at this point in time.

Experiences and emotions happen – both good and bad. The trick is to try and let them happen without feeling attached to them – meaning that you recognise that you are feeling sorrow, but realise it is not who you are; you lose your job, but you realise this is also not who you are. There is something deeper – the real “you” or “me” – that is centred and can gently watch thoughts and emotions as they move through our minds and hearts.

This, as I understand it, means that we can experience a deeper sense of self and we can more easily experience happiness because we choose not to latch onto negative emotions. This doesn’t mean we don’t feel negative emotions – it is kind of like sadness turns up and instead of your mind going on “Oh no, here’s sadness again! What have I done wrong? I shouldn’t be feeling sad! This is terrible! I’d better try and fight it and get rid it!”, your mind simply recognises “I feel sad”.

So, how does this relate to last week? I tried to control my negative emotions, I put too much emphasis on trying not to feel these negative emotions that it was almost like the call of the wild to them, and I gave them power. Once I realised that I just needed to observe and be compassionate toward them they lost that power. They moved quickly on and I had space to realise the happiness and love that is in my life right now.

It also put me in a place where I could think about our child with love. I could picture them surrounded by my love and I realised that they are there – they are just not physically with me this time around. I also had the realisation that nothing would make up for the fact that we couldn’t have our child – and I needed to let that go. I needed to remove the expectation that the life I have created will provide full compensation for not having our child.

I feel freer now. I feel like I can enjoy the different parts of my life because of what they are. I enjoy conservation volunteering because I want to do it. I enjoy my pets because I love them – they don’t need to fill a void – they shouldn’t have the responsibility of filling a void. I spend time with my nephews and nieces because I love them – not because they are replacements for our own child – I love them for who they are and how they are in our life.

I certainly haven’t got anything sorted out for good – I’m not enlightened yet! I know there will be times when I will have experiences similar to those of last week – but perhaps next time I will be quicker to realise what is happening and to remember how to be with it, instead of trying to fight it.

I'm back...again!

I didn’t mean to…

Really…I didn’t mean to disappear from entering blog posts…

This past year has been one of big, big changes. It took a lot longer than expected, but we finally moved to be closer to our two year old nephew last July.

It was a huge, but good, step for us. Our new home is near wetlands where I walk our two dogs every day (they love it – although Ari the big dog is a little wary of the ducks! He is not the world's bravest dog...).

What has been my excuse since July? I’ll be honest – I have been a little unconfident as to whether I have anything of real value to say. I have told myself that what I have to say isn’t really very good and that I can’t write anyway – so why bother?

Then I realised that I had 24 likes on Facebook for “When You Can’t Have Kids” and I didn’t know some of the people who liked it. I could look at it like it is “only” 24 likes, but it has been an incredible boost for me to come back to blogging.

We in that category of wanting kids but not being able to have them don’t have very many places to call home – so perhaps I can provide a little bit of shelter? It won’t be a mansion – more like a log cabin somewhere in the woods by a lake with a pot of tea on the fire, but you are all welcome here.

Thank you for boosting my spirits.