For whom the bell tolls...

Nine years ago, I lay in bed... mostly asleep, but slowly gaining consciousness.  My stereo was set to turn on at 6am to gently wake me up to my favourite radio station.  Through my sleepy hazy, I vaguely heard...

          "I don't know what is happening...."

          "Are they filming a movie or something?"

          "... plane flying too low?"

          "Wait.  What?  A second plane has hit a building.  A second plane!"

That's how I remembered that morning.  I can't recall how I got to work.  But once there, I sat at my desk, listening to the radio, tears streaming down my face.  The office was in shock and silence.  The city was still.  The world was on pause...

Nine years later, I am still overwhelmed with grief on this day.  Not because I knew someone personally who had perished on that tragic day... but because our humanity binds us together.  This is not "your" loss, it is "our" loss.  This was someone's son/daughter... husband/wife/lover... father/mother... friend.  Friend.  I am grieving today for the friends that I never knew.... for the ones that I'll never meet.

Rest in Peace.

Kittens who steal your heart and make you melt...

It is funny how you can become so accustomed to the presence of a beloved pet that their absence, even for a mere night, seems to throw things slightly off kilter.  That's how I felt when I dropped off my cat Snoopy the night before a road trip.  I wandered around the house all evening anticipating a furry shadow following me.  I sat on the couch to watch tv and instinctively rearranged the blanket next to me for a soft spot for him.  All night, I resisted the urge to look for him to see how he was doing.... because I knew he wasn't there.

And now, five or six weeks later, I am still resisting the impulse to look for him under his favourite hiding spots.  That is because Snoopy is gone.  Passed away a couple of days after I came back.  The grieving process has been hard.  Often I take it moment by moment.  Having cared for him for nearly 15 years means that I have a lot of habits to undo.  A lot of familiar rituals to let go of.  It's been tough, I won't deny it.  But I found a way to help me cope with it...

I went to the SPCA out in Abbotsford a couple of weeks ago, just as something to do.  It was a nice ride out on the motorcycle and the cats at shelters always seem so grateful for attention and love.  I had pre-scoped out a few kittens that I wanted to meet.  One of them was an adorable white + grey kitten named Bijou.  From the first time I held her, she cuddled her way into my aching heart.  But I was reluctant to take on another cat so soon.  I could barely manage a day without bursting into tears over a sudden memory of Snoopy.  How could I accept the responsibility of another kitten?

Over the next week, I went back to visit that kitten (as well as saw a few others).  After much deliberation, I finally wrestled my doubts to the ground.  I realised that my sense of loss over Snoopy would not go away, but at least by having a kitten, I would be forced to care for her regardless of how I felt.  Something to keep me moving forward.  What I didn't expect was the delight and pure ecstatic joy I would experience in discovering her unique, sweet goofy personality.  She is adorable and gentle and very accommodating.  If I hug her because I miss Snoopy, she does not judge.

What a lovely way to heal a broken heart....



PS  Consider finding your next pet at your local animal shelter.  I've had my heart stolen there twice now.  :)