Grief So Deep, So Searing

Bluebird (Hobby on top)

There’s a point in the mourning process where no amount of comfort or consoling will help. In fact, it may hurt no matter the intent. Perhaps this is the stage of disbelief, I don’t know. But I am at that point right now. Have been for quite some time.

I don’t want words of comfort, no hugs, no sympathy. I only want my loved ones back. I heard a song the other night that included a phrase, “How do I turn your memory / Back into you instead?” (Symphony in 16 Bars, Kenny White) It really cut to my heart. That’s exactly how I feel.

At this point in my life, though I feel yet young, a fledgling in this thing called life, I have experienced too many losses. They seem to be piling up and each one only gathers all those before into a larger yarn ball of grief.

Just last month I lost not only Rainbow and Twygal but also found out that Fred, another of my colony cats, had died back in October. Of course all the pain from those losses entwined so closely with those of earlier times. The ties that bind. Twygal brought forth memories of Gabbie, Gabrielle’s Galaxy, her namesake, lost in ’94 before Twygal was even born. Thoughts of Mouse, her supposed mother, bring a sad smile to my face. And Aztec, my precious princess, wanders into my thoughts, a very special girl also born in ’94 and lost too soon.

Twygal, Aztec, Rainbow

Rainbow heralds her sister Ozma and her half brother Little Boy, her mother Hobby and the sisters I didn’t keep, Harvest and Jacqueline. Fred, who was once Toe to me, reminds me of Tic and Tac who died only babies, too young to fight. Bluebird, the first of her litter to leave brings back the anguish of losing her mother to diabetes as well as worries for the future of her brothers.

Effie & kittens, Fuzzball, Question, Bluebird

All of these thoughts crowd my senses and stop me from time to time, freeze my thought processes and keep me from creating. Every day I’m brought right back to a time when they were still here. Feeding times mean that Rainbow is no longer on top of the freezer demanding her food, Bluebird’s spot on the shelf is now taken by Glitter and the cat tree is empty, no Twygal to call for my attention.

Rainbow

Twygal

Pill time means fewer pills to set out, no fluids for Rainbow to fight. Shopping for cat food is no longer the Great American Search for the new foods Rainbow or Bluebird might try. Now I can buy specific foods for the remaining cats and they will eat them. At bedtime Rainbow and Bluebird no longer fight for a spot under the blankets with me and Twygal’s purr no longer rests upon my side as I try to sleep.

My spirit has been injured, my heart broken into so many pieces I’ll never puzzle it back together again. And every pieces carries a soul indelibly fixed in my circle of muses. Someday Rainbow will be our guide back together again.

Tennessee Walking Horses

Bunny, a Quarter Horse

I am in tears and not for the reason you'd think. I just watched this video from ABC News Nightline and can't believe the things we humans do to animals that trust us.

All my life I've watched horse shows admiring the beauty of the species, watching the "natural" gaits and the "free" spirits as they floated around the rings. As I got older I began to realize the realities of those spectacles and lost my love for the sport. I knew that poor Hackney ponies were forced to wear chains on their feet in order to make them lift their legs up high in the ring.

I learned that those beautiful flowing tails were broken to make them stand up tall. And I discovered that Tennessee Walking Horses didn't really have that exaggerated gait naturally. I began to wonder just how it was that they got those Western Pleasure horses to hang their heads so darn low to the ground.

Bunny

I thought I'd heard that a lot of these practices were now banned in show horses but haven't seen a society horse show in many years nor looked into that world in quite some time. I remember years and years ago seeing those horses in their stalls struggling to stand comfortably with their feet fixed with extra high "lifts" on their hoofs. But then I stopped seeing hoofs fixed quite so high and hoped that things had changed. Now, from what they've shown on this video I see that things haven't changed all that much.

Horses are special creatures. If you've ever known a horse you will understand that. A horse is naturally a prey animal but somehow trusts us enough to partner with us as we ride or drive them. To truly enjoy your time with a horse you develop a strong bond with that animal. I always felt that I became a part of the horse and the horse a part of me when I worked with my own.

I knew what Gaucho would shy at long before he even noticed it. I could feel how Mike wanted me to adjust my posture to make his stride more comfortable as the grade of the trail changed. I knew when Blueboy was having trouble with his footing and changed our path or got off of him. And when Toby was done for the day I knew when to turn around and head back to the barn even though he was willing to go on.

Most importantly I took care of my horses and listened to their needs. We enjoyed each other's company.

Why do owners think that Tennessee Walking horse gait is so important that they'd allow someone to torture trusting horses in such a cruel fashion? It doesn't look right at all. I'd rather see they lope and canter like a normal horse. Why does a horse have to lift its feet so darn high while pulling a buggy? Aren't horses showy enough as they are? And why in the world do they think that a Western Pleasure horse gets any pleasure out of holding its head down so low to the ground? That's not the proper posture for horses; I worry that they might be injuring their backs.

If you were able to watch that video what did you think? Have you ever wondered what went on behind the scenes of horse training? What about racing horses? Do you wonder what weaknesses are bred into those poor horses just so they can move faster? Think about it as you watch the Preakness this weekend.

I love reading comments from my readers. Please let me know your views on horses and our relationships with them.

Twygal - Oct 1, 1994 to April 27, 2012

Fred (Toe) - Fall 1995 to Oct 2011

Rainbow - April 7, 1994 to April 15, 2012

Twygal's last day

Twygal on Wednesday: she didn't like her trip outside

Friday morning Dr. Tammy will be helping Twygal escape her suffering. But I’m afraid she has already left the fold in part.

It has been a difficult week because Twygal has continued to eat, drink, and even play despite the growing lump on her face. However, on Wednesday she stopped eating. On Thursday she became very grumpy, refusing even to be petted. She has always been a very sensitive cat and I’ve had to tread lightly with her emotions and moods but that’s just a part of her wonderful personality.

Thursday evening she started bleeding from her mouth and nose again and she’s having even more difficulty breathing. I’m just comforted that she will still sleep on top of me in bed. That is, as long as I don’t touch her.

I worried about her last moments because she always gets very stressed when I take her to the clinic. I don’t want her passing to be so traumatic for her, though it definitely will be for me. To make her transition a little less stressful I will be giving her a light sedative before leaving home.

Though they were never friends in life perhaps Twygal will join with Bluebird and Rainbow and romp happily in heaven.

Twygal's struggle

 This is a note to the Universe: enough all ready!

Isn’t enough that I just lost Rainbow last week? Hasn’t Twygal suffered enough with her colitis trouble? Do we really need any more?

Twygal’s “lump” has been slowly growing and pushing her face out of whack. Today she won’t eat very much and has been mostly quiet all day. Last night she really got to me when she found Rainbow’s little cubbyhole and hid there for part of the night. Now, just now, she started bleeding from both her mouth and her nose.

 

When I spoke to her vet on Saturday he gave me a list of things to watch for in order to make “the decision” in other words, euthanasia. One of the things was a decrease in appetite, which is always a bad sign. Another sign is blood from her nose or mouth.

I was hoping for a good night’s sleep tonight but now I’m sure I’ll be awake all night watching Twygal and hoping the bleeding stops. And I’m afraid I’ll be calling the vet first thing in the morning.

Have any of you ever had a cat with a nasal tumor? If so, did you treat it? How did it progress and did you have to make “the decision?”

Please keep Twygal in your thoughts tonight (if you see this before morning).

Rainbow in the Sky

Rainbow

April 7, 1994 - April 15, 2012

Rainbow and Springtime

Isn’t amazing how things work out? Every spring, no matter what, the lilacs come out and every spring just as the blooms are fading along comes a rain or storm to wipe out the last vestiges of their aroma. Every spring a short window opens when we should be able to find morels, and every spring I struggle to fit into that window.

Every year people look for the robins to proclaim the arrival of spring and sometimes, like this year, they come early. I always thought their travels were related to the sun’s position but now I realize it is more the temperature that brings them north. However, we sometimes, many times, see robins in January. So perhaps we should wait until the redwing blackbirds show up in the highway ditches staking out their territory, and announcing their readiness for mates to welcome spring.

Turkey Vulture gathering - see on the fence posts?

As for me I wait until I see that first black feather friend soaring up above in search of prey to truly count the coming of spring. Turkey vultures are the true harbingers of springtime and all it means to a winter-weary world. Their funky red, wrinkled heads watch for the tiniest movement in the grasses, stoop to clearing the highways of road kill when necessary and dress the skies with their graceful ride upon the air.

Lando Calrissian

Like the elves from Middle Earth, my cats are drawn to the west it seems. Too many times I’ve seen its attraction pull them from my life. First it was Lando who wanted only to go, just go somewhere, anywhere, on his last day on earth. When I set him down outside for a bit of fresh air he headed west. What his eyes saw in that direction I’ll never know but west was the only thing he wanted at that moment.

Pixel, her brain wracked with cancer, alternated between twitching from seizures to circling directionless to heading west in the yard outside the vet school. She’d lost all control of her poor little body yet knew that she wanted to head west. Bluebird, thin and weak from the cancer in her body wandered the house but always ended up at the back door, the western door of the house. She’d never been outside in her life except in a carrier yet she knew she wanted to go west in her last days.

Rainbow as a baby

Now Rainbow, failing kidneys and drug influenced mind, heads west to that door as well. What is it she yearns to reach? What secret world awaits her in the end? Or is it a beginning? Will I see that day; will I see them again someday in the west? Is that how things work out?

I don’t like the phrase “the circle of life” because it includes death. Maybe we should talk instead of the cycle of life; a cycle in which we eventually head west, like the elves, to another world, a better world where we can spend eternity with those we love.

(As I write this Rainbow lies on my lap unable to walk or do much more than lift her head. Tomorrow I may have to help her head west if she doesn’t recover but for now we’re together praying for a miracle.)