My Fight to Save My Cat

Fighting to save my cat has been like fighting to save my own life. As I struggle to improve my health, he has gotten sick, and I don’t know why he is sick or how he got sick. It could be something small, easy to solve, or it could be an illness that is more complicated, requiring expensive surgery, something that could take his life. So far, in the six years we’ve been together, every little thing I’ve done to save his life has worked. When I rescued him, he rescued me. If I lose him, I will lose everything. I will be gone. He’s my last connection to life. He is my life. He is my baby.  He’s all I have.  I have no children.  I have no boyfriend.  I have no steady circle of friends who gather at my doorstep.  I only have him.  And he keeps me going.  He saves my life everyday.

I have been very depressed for many months now.  Mr. Snuggles has kept my spirits up a great deal — a very big job for a cat to do!  I have digestion problems galore related to the depression.  I withdraw from people while I concentrate on getting better, all the while he is at my side, and we drink the same water, share the same bed, play every morning, cuddle every night.  Yet could how I feel be killing him?

How can I save my cat?  What is wrong with him? I’ve already taken my cat to a vet and have followed her advice.  My cat has not been able to poop in many days. It started early in July when I noticed he stopped eating. It’s not like him. Mr. Snuggles loves food as much as he loves water. He likes to eat and drink whenever he sees me eat and drink, so we share our meals together. I don’t give him any of my own food, he has his own, he just follows me, always my shadow, always next to me. So whenever his behavior changes, it’s very obvious, and he “tells” me whenever he’s not feeling well. I knew right away his body wasn’t working right. He vocally alerts me whenever it comes to problems with his litter box routine. Even though this time he still pees regularly, and he’s not in pain, straining to poo is uncomfortable, usually a sign he ate something he can’t pass like my hair or pieces of fabric like string. This time nothing showed up, nothing came out, all a mystery.

Too many days passed, and after a week, we made a visit to the vet for a solution. I didn’t tell anyone how upset I was for fear I would jinx things. I seriously feared for Mr. Snuggles’ life. As we killed time in the waiting room, the people ahead of us had to make the decision to put down their six-month-old puppy because they could not afford the surgery required to save its life. I was too freaked out to go into the room they were in. I waited until another room was free to ease my panic. The next folks to come in were a cute Korean couple with a kitten who could be Mr. Snuggles’ mini-me. Adult black cat and black kitten shared the same golden-green eyes, and Mr. Snuggles cheerfully mewed at the kitten in such a way that had us all laughing. It made me forget about the puppy and gave me hope. ‘Maybe Snuggles needs a little brother or sister,’ I thought as his name was called by the assistant and we made our way to see who would be Mr. Snuggles’ doctor.

As usual, Mr. Snuggles takes the vet appointment in stride, plopping down and making himself home anywhere. He doesn’t even mind it when he’s examined (but if I do it, he squirms and fights me). The vet’s diagnosis was that he was simply constipated, so I felt that the visit was a relief, yet even though I spent a lot a money for it, I’d pay anything to keep my baby happy and healthy. So we took her advice, within two days he did his duty. Not to be too graphic, but his poop was large and full of hair.  His last bowel movement was a normal soft brown.  But ever since the bad constipation, he’s become anorexic.

I wondered if perhaps he’s afraid of becoming constipated again. He’s active and happy, drinks plenty of water but will not drink or eat on his own, he needs me to encourage him. He became accustomed to me syringing him water and force feeding him. Weening him from this became a pain in the ass. For a little while he started to eat on his own. I walked away and ignored him to get him to eat on his own. It worked. However, I’ve had to water down wet food to get him to eat. He likes to eat soupy food now. Hard food is a thing of the past. It’s of no mind. The wet food is better for his digestion anyway. But he stopped eating altogether again when he stopped pooping once more.

To get him to poop again, I re-started a laxative the vet prescribed that worked before, but after a week and a half, nothing is working. Mr. Snuggles’ backside is greasy and wet.  What is going on?  I’ve examined his anus, there’s no irritation there or anything coming out of it.  I called the vet and tried the laxative as a lubricant (it’s made of cod liver oil and used both orally and analy). Kitty hated me using a Q-tip to get in there.  I also used belly massage techniques given to me to help ease his bowels.  I don’t know what else to do but go back to the vet, yet I have no more money to keep going back and forth.  What do I do?  Am I going to lose Mr. Snuggles?

This morning he woke me up, all bright-eyed and extra-loving, and curled up close to my face and neck as if nothing is wrong, as if to tell me everything is going to be okay. He pushes his nose into my cheek and purrs so loud it seems to shake the entire bed. I put my hand over his belly. I feel him shiver a little. I worry that he feels cold, but then I realize I feel cold. It’s supposed to be the tail end of July, one of the hottest weeks of the year, yet it’s 50 degrees out and we live in the shade. It feels like autumn has closed in early. Are we alive here in bed together? Yes. More alive than ever.

We’re more alive together because all we have to live for is each other for as long as we’ve got and for the most of it, the best.  And because he is worth it.

Will This Pain Ever Cease? If I can Help it

I need to confess something, no matter how ridiculous, why I do not update my blog often this year, something I am reporting to you tonight because it causes me too much distress, and I can’t take hiding it anymore.  Maybe you can understand.  Maybe this will make me out to sound crazy.  Or maybe, in the course of writing this, I’ll find the strength to do away with this so I can move on and just write whatever I want to again!

I am too overly concerned over the stupidest details that flash by my way while I am trying to concentrate on other things I am enjoying working on. One tiny detail associated with a person(s) I have emotional hardship over, and it can throw my focus off course, ruining an entire day.  I’m not being dramatic in saying that it’s been such a problem that I’ve spent entire weeks offline in order to avoid even the slightest chance of seeing a photo, or even catching names and news, but nothing I do blocks out their existence.  And their existence by proxy reminds me that they have blocked me out of theirs. It’s an unavoidable shunning-kind-of-thing, because unlike being offline, despite all our apps and settings to keep people we want to avoid out of our notice, we’ll still know they exist, especially if they are friends with our friends and their friends are friends your friends, and there’s just no getting around it.  Offline, if someone lives thousands of miles away, they’re gone, no way we gonna bump into them at the grocery store unless they want to spend thousands of dollars for that plane ticket to come surprise us at home, in which case, highly doubtful.  Besides…  if one of us wanted to stalk the other we’d have to be rich in order to do it if we lived such long distance anyway.  So a cyber-block is cool.  I’m okay with that.  People have their reasons.  Even if they’re wrong.

There is not much I can do to curb the comings and goings of other people who will criss-cross my path.  I have many friends, and those friends are mutual friends with former friends, including those few individuals who have deliberately made the choice to block me for every reason from the tame to the so-very-unnecessarily-not-right.  I am only counting at present three (not counting anyone from the past), and one of those is my own brother, whom I still talk to, we just don’t talk online to respect our privacy (a good thing because we drive each other crazy).  As for the other two, I do not know their reasons, truly, why, nor can I speak for them.

I, unfortunately, have blocked people, too, but only under great stress, giving some friends way too many chances.  I’m like that.  I shouldn’t be so nice, and yet I like being nice.  I don’t throw away friends.  I even unblocked folks as well.  I let people back into my life even others warn me it isn’t wise.

My heart doesn’t “no”.

Tonight’s upset happened when I read the briefest broken English comments from a reply to a reply I made at an old website where someone claims to be someone I don’t hear from anymore, but isn’t, and the said comments (even though already deleted at said site) still get filtered into my email.  I end up reading what I’m thinking is directed to me, but it’s just someone being stupid, however indirectly they describe me as a “complication” that deterred the website designer from using the site as a form of amusement, telling the reader that they are “okay” to be in contact with them.  Ugh.

So I feel the bitterest, littlest inkling of paranoia creep up my backside, as if I’m to blame for the most terrible of atrocities known to old friend — because why else would they have stopped talking to me?  The old feelings of being singled out again because I’m different and because I can’t be included because that person does not want to be friends with me even though they seemed over joyed to be so, and I thought that they wanted to be closer because they once planned to make a personal visit to my home just made me seem like I was romantically chasing them…  Blah, blah, blah…  My thoughts race back & forth like a ping-pong match in hell.  I drop everything, my tears don’t burst, I just start to silently crumble into disgust with myself in such a poetic way, it’s beyond pathetic, it’s self hate at its most putrid.

But this isn’t just tonight.  I hate to, yet I have to admit it, finally, to you, that this is every night for the past nine months!  I’ve been slowly killing myself, stressing over what this former friend may or may not think about me.  It’s not if they are truly the one behind those comments I read tonight, it’s the comments I imagine they would say inside my mind that torture me.  I can’t blame anyone.  Only the pain of grief — the same grief I still feel over the kind of relationship I had with my mother — we always debated and critiqued religion, philosophy, life, everything, anything, nothing I did pleased her and she always had to put a damper on my enthusiasm.

It was only until she was on her deathbed that she winked “Yes” to me when I asked her if she was proud of me.

I don’t blame her for everything or anything anymore either.  The origins of our problems may start with our parents and background, but it is how we live the rest of our lives that we choose to make a difference in how we turn out.  Never forget I just said that.  Remember I’m doing that.  It’s not easy. But you should try it.

I sometimes make myself feel better by imagining I can talk to her, or that friend of mine, late at night when I cannot sleep, and tell them everything I want to say.  I wish I could do that, right now, right here, on this blog, but such a thing cannot be done.  I am already taking a risk writing about my feelings now.  I feel like I’m leaving myself out in the sun.  I might bake.

My mother is dead.  That’s one thing.  But the living are young, and they get online, and they have vast networks of friends, friends who read what I have to say, or happen upon what I write, and people talk, because people always talk.  I also tell myself people don’t care as much as they can care, too.  Some friends have told me that they will not talk to me anymore if I talk about the friend I miss.

Oh, did I forget to mention the other — the second friend who blocked me nine months ago?  That’s a different matter, the one I don’t want to talk about. That one followed the other in quitting me, as if one kicking me down wasn’t enough, the other had to get their kick in to keep me down, at least that is how it felt.  Again, I cannot speak for them, I can only speak for how I feel, and it is unhealthy for me to keep on suppressing my feelings like this.  I also could do without the threat of losing any more friends.  I’ve been “good” — I’m not addicted to anyone or any substance, I’m not found longing for an imaginary lover or obsessing over anyone, and yet — ta da!  here I am proving I am obsessing! — it’s just a different matter, being stuck in a loop of relationship communication difficulty preventing me from being able to really be friends with anyone.  Will this pain ever cease?  If I can help it — !

I pay professionals to talk to, I get therapy, I do all the things I’m supposed to in order to stay healthy and keep a steady mind, and I journal privately, yet I do not have anyone to really, really talk to like I used to.  I don’t want pity.  I have enough sorrow to go around the world.  Just bits of me are dying each night while I fight this battle to stay sane and pursue my happiness, part of that happiness is claiming peace of mind, and you know what?  There are times I cry out, “Please stop this pain already, [name of person], please, if I ever meant anything to you, stop hating me now.”  It may not do anything to actually make me feel better, but that’s something they would say, so then I tell myself to stop policing me with that and just feel like myself without imagining their criticism already!

One thing I haven’t done is Witchcraft to help me with my problem.  I have been dealing with it on a strictly meditation basis, guarding my thoughts in order to not spread the will to harm.  It’s a practice I always put into motion whenever I am out of sorts and it has served me well.  Even when someone wishes me ill will, I don’t return the favor, I have to let it drop off me like water off a duck’s back (or I try awfully hard to).  I had my breaking points in my youth, however, but I decided to no longer wish harm, let alone cause it.

The only magic I’ve used is my favorite practice: Divination — why?

Because sometimes the only thing I have is to give myself is something to look forward to.  A future, besides doing something you love, is a very important key to keeping happiness, and we all must do what we can to pursue it well, especially when people fail us, because we can always count on them to do just that (that’s why we learn to trust ourselves more).