Depression and anxiety are predictable end results of quite a few basic issues that people grapple with. Me included. A big one for me is fear of being abandoned. Fear of being alone. My father had it too, he was terrified of being alone for even ten minutes. I got the impression that he couldnt bear being with himself. His inner dialogue was self berating and angry with himself. Which is why he thought it was good to get a woman who punished him.
He was, at the end of his life, able to release, share, his inner diaglogue with me. And I think it was me alone he revealed it to. Certainly I havnt met anyone else who heard it first hand. I took to putting my iPhone on record in front of him when he did it, and recorded over 17 hours on more than 30 individual recordings of him during the week of lucidity he had before he set about dying.
We all have our inner dialogue. I am listening to mine right now, alone, here in the flat. John (my husband) is burying our Bloo Kittun today. I am not doing it, I have buried enough cats over the years, and I have buried two this year alone before this one. I dont need another grave to sit and weep over. I can weep here well enough.
What is my inner dialogue saying to me right now? Its saying that I am a truth seeker but also a pragmatist. I know at the moment I appear cold about having Bloo put to sleep and am not overly concerned with where she (her mortal remains) are to be buried. My job was to love her, adore her, provide for her and in the end, not let her suffer.
John is very emotionally involved with her, she was his cat really. I found her, I bought her (pedigree cats – rare and expensive), she lived in my house with my other cats but she was Johns cat. John is inconsolable. He keeps crying, I try and feel for him. I try and connect with Bloo and the tragedy of her dying.
But I cant think of Bloo without thinking of her making us laugh with her antics. And the sheer joy she brought us everyday. Her getting ill (again) and we had made the decision after her last operation for cancer, not to intervene again, that she would die this Autumn , Winter or possibly make it through till Spring or not was inevitable. For me, just identifying the right time and doing the right thing is something I have been preparing myself for for over a year with her.
Do I grieve? Of course I do, this blog is about loss. I am grieving today for my father, and three cats who I have lost this year – Smudge my Seal Point Siamese who died of cancer aged three in February, B1 a Havana kitten who was killed in a road accident in May, and Bloo who lost the long fight with cancer this Saturday. What is the poinht of crying though? It just upsets Leo and Bruno. My husband keeps breaking down and crying, will I be a better support of him if I share the tissues?
I’m still not finished about crying over the death of Pushkin (died 2004) or Bats (died 2011) and burying them. And the rest. Min, Bobby, Sid, enough enough. I would like to get a good hardy Moggy next, that will live for more than three to seven years. A big tough animal. John wont have it, so what next?
I dont feel anything different about Bloo this week than every other week since the day I bought her in a motorway service station from a hapless woman who had decided she “didnt want an Oriental after all”. I had already been in touch with the breeder and told him what was about to happen. He actually took the trouble to come over here and see Bloo in her new home and no doubt assess our commitment. And he was satisfied.
To me Bloo isnt dead, she has just been immortalised.