Saturday, April 3, 2010
So How's The Bean, You Ask?
Several of you we're curious about how Charlene's been doing since we lost Drewey, so I thought I would address it here for everyone.
I think she knew something was going on towards the end. Normally when we get busy and distracted, Charlene feels neglected and acts out by doing naughty things like scratching the rugs or furniture or hopping up on table tops. Instead, she was a good, patient girl. She stayed close to Drewey, but not so close that it irritated Drewey.
On the day Drewey passed, after we returned from the vet, Charlene kept a very low profile. She slept all day on top of the bed. In the evening, she wandered downstairs and looked out the front window into the dark for a long time, then napped on the back of the couch. By late eve, her somber spell broke and joined us in front of the TV, looking for some play time.
I wouldn't say she's acting mopey or sad now, but I think she understands what has happened and knows we're not feeling quite our normal selves.
So she wouldn't feel alone, and because they are so healthy, I decided to spring the kittens from quarantine a day early. Charlene was glad to meet them, but I think a bit overwhelmed by their quantity. Pia and Fern were the most excited to meet her. Thelma was the first to submit to a Beanie bath.
It's hard to know exactly what's going on inside Charlene's bean, but I think our girl is coping with things just fine.
It sounds as though we're not the only ones who've lost an animal friend recently. I hope all of you can take away a little something that will make you feel better from all those lovely words that were left for us.
It really is hard to express how much your words mean. We're still sad, but we know we're surrounded by people who understand, which means the world.
Around you, there's no need to explain red, puffy eyes. You won't say "gee, you look tired", and with the sound of one single sniffle, you instinctively pass a box of tissues, no questions asked.
So once again, a huge, heart-felt thank you. And again, I must say, I hope you know how special you are.
One last thing....
I wanted to share a poem that Anne Boleyn shared with me. It was featured today on The Writer's Almanac and the timing couldn't be more perfect. If you have time, listen to it here. I found it's better heard than read.
Pushkin by Marjorie Kowalski Cole
The old cat sleeps
in the newly arrived sun. One more spring
has come his way
dropping a solar bath
on failing kidneys, old cat bones.
I check for the rise and fall of breath.
Once he stalked hares
across the yard, tracked down
chicken hearts with split-lentil eyes.
Fearless, disinterested, a poseur, a demideity.
He and the dog are strangers still
after years of eating side by side.
I remember times of wailing
into my couch, alone
and utterly baffled by life,
when suddenly a cat
would be sitting on my head.
Last week I pulled him snarling
from under a chair in Dr. Bacon's office,
held him while she examined his dull coat,
felt his ribs. Pressed where it hurt.
Eight pounds of fur and bone and mad as hell
but "He's certainly less anxious in your lap,"
she murmured, astonishing me.
I had no idea. Old cat, old friend,
have I reached some place inside,
added to your life
as you have to mine?