A Message from a Funeral:

I went to a funeral yesterday. I’d only met her twice- briefly- but she is the mom of a work colleague that I very much admire. She was 84-years young, and did have some health issues, but you never want to see someone in your life lose a loved one, or even lose a loved one yourself. This was my third funeral since February.  Two for people I didn’t actually know, and one for my father-in-law. The one similarity of all of them is that they were loved greatly by many people.

My father-in-law, JerrellRay passed away on April 28^th after a very brief, yet shitty fight with lung cancer. Well, all cancer is shitty, but when it takes you away from your family only 13 days after diagnoses, it’s really, really shitty. He was a smoker. He probably had cancer for awhile. We’re glad that the cancer was not diagnosed any earlier so that the last years of his life were lived exactly as he wanted and not being even more ill from chemo and medications. He was a daily part of MiniLatte’s life and she asks about him often even though she knows Grandpa Jerry is in heaven watching over us.  Jerry’s death actually seemed to bring more life to the family- we fostered relationships with his four daughters over the weeks of his memorial and inurnment and mended a relationship that shouldn’t have needed it as well.

This whole thing happened in the middle of my mom’s hospitalization, post-surgery for me and the day before my birthday. I’ll have more birthdays….. the stress hastened my healing and my village has helped in taking care of mom and in turn, me. People that love me, MiniLatte and AntiLatte. I couldn’t have done it without them.  That’s one of the reasons why I went to funerals of people that I really didn’t know…. your actions speak so loudly during difficult times and that goes both ways.  There were people that I thought would be there for us that weren’t and then those, that anticipated our needs and took care of us.

Funerals also make you appreciate what you have. I came home and hugged my little girl a bit tighter, told my love 143, and gave my mom a kiss and told her that I love her and am so thankful and happy that she is such a fighter.  A detour to see my failing 93 year-old grandfather and my wonderful dad made for a long day, but an important part of it nonetheless. I’ve made a promise to myself that I would make sure to tell those that I love exactly that more often. There are many, so it will take awhile, but it will be worth it. I don’t want to have any “I wish I would have told them” anymore…..

The Avalanche Continues....

(I'd prefer to title this My Life is a Shitstorm, but to avoid being moderated I decided to use some filter)
There are not enough martinis or lattes to help me through the hardships that has fallen upon my family.   
      Trust me, I'm not a 'woes me' kind of girl and am one to tend to see the glass as half full but there's just a point in your life where you have to say ENOUGH. I'm waving the red flag now, unfortunately, my surrender will have to wait a bit longer.
     My mom has been hospitalized with a long-term illness since March 7th- nearly two months of daily hospital visits and holding my breath whenever the phone rings. For the most part the journey has been emotionally taxing, not to mention one that took a toll on my job, my home-based business, my husband, my daughter, my friendships and even my health.  It's been a roller-coaster ride that I would very much NOT like to repeat in this lifetime; unfortunately it's getting worse. 
      I underwent my very first invasive surgery last week (the same day mom had a tracheotomy!)- had to have a cholecystectomy- a fancy medical term for gall bladder removal. Okay, so I wasn't even quite sure what a gall bladder did until it kicked me in the ass, er, rib cage a few weeks ago.  I was leaving the hospital after visiting with Mom and had the inclination to walk myself into the ER on my way to the parking lot, but that hospital wasn't my provider. After agonizing at home for a few hours, and a call to the advice nurse, we dropped Mini off at the grandparents and went to the ER.  The nurse called it on the spot- I guess fluffy (not so much anymore) white females of childbearing age present for gall bladder disease quite commonly. I thought I was going to give birth again. Quite painful. After a five hour stint, I was released with pain meds and a follow-up appointment for an ultrasound. The ultrasound did in fact determine that I had gall stones and would need a surgical follow-up. Fortunately, I wasn't harboring an infection and didn't need emergency surgery, but would have to watch my diet.
      This is something that is normally caused by a fat-laden diet, which mine is not. I am not a fast-food junkie- my idea of fast food is in fact Subway.... well there is that pregnancy craving of an occasional crumb cake donut- so what if I've had 32 months to do so.  I suspect that it was a rapid weight loss with the stress of my Mom's medical situation that caused my gall bladder to produce enough stones to fill up more than half of its capacity. Meanwhile, I've been off of my feet to recover and Anti-latte had to fill in my spot to go visit my mom, and his step-dad and take care of Mini and take care of me. I swear that I was as low maintenance as possible. Even after the second 11-hour ER visit (long story- I'm fine, but a bit pissed at said hospital's lack of ultrasound techs during the night shift). I'm recovering although a bit slower than I had hoped- I suspect an inordinate amount of stress has been a factor.  What's more stressful than a loved one being hospitalized and undergoing the knife yourself? Oh just a the fact that I hate CANCER.
    My father-in-law has been battling a very nasty bout of pneumonia, well, since my mom was hospitalized, actually, and an infection on top of that. He visited my mom at the hospital when she was on her deathbed and it prompted him to quit smoking cold turkey. Between being ill and the smoking cessation patch, he has been really miserable and after several weeks and numerous doctors appointments, he has been diagnosed with lung cancer.  After his initial diagnosis he had to wait for almost two weeks to meet with an oncologist to find out that it was Stage 4, and that is had spread to his liver, lymph nodes and more. As I write, Anti-latte and his mom and other family members are awaiting a visit from the hospital chaplain to discuss the plan to discharge his to hospice to live out his final days. We thought it would be months, but there's a chance that it could be just hours..... so fast. It was like he was playing with Mini one day and unable to walk the next. Now he is suffering and everyone sits by to support him.  It's torturous. I love this man and know how the family feels- the waiting and pleading is all too fresh in my memory from seven weeks ago. Now we just hope that with enough medical intervention, they can keep him comfortable. We'll surround him with all the love that he needs while we await him earning his wings.  I know that Mini will miss him dearly and we'll ensure that she won't forget the man who claims that she has his eyes.... (um, no, but it was always a source of laughs at family get togethers.)
     This presents an additional problem with child care as they were my main providers- we can wing it for the next week while I'm on medical leave and then have to figure out what to do next. Mini's grandmas' #1 priority should be caring for her husband... I think I have it figured out, but it's yet another stressor to deal with.
     And if that isn't quite enough to make anyone crazy, there's more.  We've had two other family members who had to make ER visits within the last 12 hours; and my mom was moved to another care facility that is a 40-minute drive away. It's a step-down rehab unit to prepare her for surgery, still a hospital, but the drive is going to be so very inconvenient. I used to work out that way and don't look forward to the daily commute, but we do what we have to do. It's just another wrinkle.... as usual, I'll iron it out..... your good vibes and prayers are much appreciated.
    

A Really Bad Dream

My Mom almost died two weeks ago. Seriously. And I've been living one of my worst nightmares since. A roller coaster ride that I'm happy to disembark from any day now....
      My mom came up to visit to help take care of my MiniLatte while her other Grandma goes on vacation. We had planned on her 'babysitting' for three of the five weekdays, being off on the Monday so she could recoup from the drive- trust me, it's a drive, and I knew Mini would put her through the ringer- in a good way of course. They had a fabulous time together, but Mom was exhausted; okay, so, I get that--- LOL.  Mom just wasn't quite herself. By Friday, she thought that the 'bug' that she was fighting had finally got the best of her and she was down for the count for four days. (Although, we did manage to fit a mani/pedi into the weekend) By Monday, I was really worried that this wasn't the average bug and told her that she was going to the clinic- even if it was kicking and screaming- tomorrow. And the clinic is where this horribly stressful past few weeks started to go downhill.....
    The cute little nurse took her history, listened to her lungs, etc and called in the doctor.... the doctor listens to her chest for two seconds and orders an EKG; once he read the results, he quickly moved us into the trauma room and called 911 to get her to the ER. Whaaaaat???  We just stared at each other trying to process what was going on; each one of us putting up a brave front.
She was loaded up into the ambulance to a local ER (I being local, went to the wrong one) and was eventually diagnosed with something called A-fib. Her resting heart rate was 177 BPM (normal range for her age is 90-123) in addition to a really high blood pressure. The hospital was having a difficult time trying to stabilize her so they admitted her for observation.
  The next day, Wednesday, we went to visit her in the hospital and she was stable yet uncomfortable and begging to go home. Some time during the middle of the night she became very agitated, her blood pressure dropped, heart rate went right back up, so they gave her a CT scan for a further work-up. The contrast dye caused her system to crash; her kidneys, liver and spleen all lost function; additionally tests determined that her mitral valve and tricuspud valve were in need of repair. By Friday afternoon, she was on life support in the Cardiac ICU and her condition was incredibly grave. The cardiologist told us that the next 48 hours were going to be tough.
   I was shocked and devastated; what the hell was happening? This was so sudden. It broke my heart to realize that I might lose my mom; it also pissed me off to no end because I thought the valve issue was something that might have been detected earlier if she would have had health insurance. I've not had the misfortune of losing someone close to me in my adult life and I wasn't prepared for that journey. I cannot even put into words my emotions. I don't think I've ever cried so hard or so long in my entire life.  Or prayed and hoped so hard or long either.
   Answering our prayers, on Sunday her kidneys were beginning to function again therefore narrowly avoiding dialysis. Liver and spleen started to function as well. Her body was healing well and by Tuesday (a week since arriving at the hospital), her breathing and feeding tubes were out and Mom was making us so proud and happy. And then she developed pneumonia.
   By Saturday, she was intubated again due to the pneumonia; pulmonary edema and some recurrence of the A-fib. That was actually a blessing as they were able to finally perform a cardiac catheterization to see how badly her heart was damaged; we had to wait for her kidneys to function fully for the test to ensure she would crash again. The good news is that the cardiologists determined that she wouldn't need any bypass surgery, just the aforementioned valve replacement/ repair.
  On Monday, she had developed a severe blood infection and her condition was once again critical.  On Thursday, we received word that tests came back positive for H1N1. She did have a 'bug' after all, which might have been what triggered the A-fib.  She also received a dose of a very powerful antibiotic called Vancomycin which caused an allergic reaction resulting in a head to toe rash. She was intubated for the third time this past Saturday; the bad valve is causing pulmonary edema. The only thing that will help this is to have open heart surgery.
   As if that isn't some scary shit right there. I can't even imagine how she is feeling about that. I'm petrified; but I have faith that she will feel like a new woman when she recovers, whenever that may be. Today was the first day that I didn't leave the hospital with a huge knot in my stomach wondering what the night would hold for her. Tomorrow marks three weeks that she has been in the hospital; I've been at her bedside every day to will her to get better; to watch over her. My wonderful husband has been my rock; comforting me and drying my tears and picking up the slack around the house and with MiniLatte.  So has my Dad, Step-mom and in-laws. So many wonderful people have offered help, but I'm not sure what help to take them up on.  We missed our wedding anniversary; we'll celebrate when we feel that there is much more to toast-  I'm looking forward to celebrating with both her and my love; Mom was my Maid of Honor on that day 10 years ago.
  

A Little Hiatus

I'm a little swamped right now blogo-friends.... frankly I haven't quite gotten my groove back after ShynShyn died; it's been busy at work; and I'm still trying to figure out how this mom/career person/wife/short order cook/taxi driver thing works and it's still a bit off kilter- and then- WHACK- there's another HUGE bump in the road......

We took a short little family road trip- the first with Baby K- to Southern Cali last week to visit family and friends and introduce Kiera to the characters at a brunch @ the Disneyland Hotel.  (Fun, by the way!) On our last night there, I received a phone call from my mom that they were taking my uncle to the hospital by ambulance.  Once he got to the small-town hospital (I grew up in the sticks... seriously.) they discovered that he was far more ill than they were equipped to handle and medi-vac'ed him to Bakersfield.  They had to sedate him to fly (he hated it) and, well, he never came out of sedation. 

We took a small detour on our way home and I was able to visit him on Sunday - I needed to go on my mom's behalf so that we could actually get someone to talk to us--- you know how they are at the hospitals over the phone? No information whatsoever!  Going there wasn't any better- the nurse was a complete be-yotch and failed miserably at any minor shred of compassion.  What little information that I pulled out of her was that he was in advanced liver and kidney failure and was very sick.  It's been a long time since I've seen someone that has required that much medical intervention and it was heartbreaking.  What was even more heartbreaking was trying to figure out how to break the  news to my mother that it was very unlikely that Donny would make it.  I told her that it was urgent that she have someone drive her  the three hours to Bakersfield to see him as soon as possible.    Unfortunately, his organs were shutting down and he suffered a cardiac arrest sometime Monday night.  Although they were able to revive him, he again coded and 'even with their best efforts,' Donny passed away early Monday afternoon just minutes before my mom got to the hospital.

It has been almost ten years since I've lost a family member (and that year, it was three in as many months) and that's probably a good thing.  I'm sad that he's gone, but heartbroken that my mom has to go through this alone (she and her soon-to-be-ex-husband split up last March).  We live 328 miles (but who's counting) from her so I'm depending on her friends and my other relatives to help her through this until we can be with her.  In the meantime, I'm planning a funeral- which I've never done before and hope that it will be the last one for a very long while.   And I've now learned that along with weddings and babies, there is another life event that they decide to charge you an arm and a leg (pun intented) for- funerals.  As if it isn't bad enough that any funerary flowers are going to be hit with a Valentine's Day surcharge!

If you have any willpower to spare, I'd appreciate you sending it my way so that we can just get through the next week.....  and I'm hoping to be able to quit interrupting Random Musings with sad and depressing news!

A Piece of My Heart Is Gone

I've always grown up around animals- dogs, cats, rodents, horses, a turtle, you name it- fur, feathers, fangs (well, can't say that I'm very comfortable around snakes...)- our family has always had a four-legged companion of some sort- currently two dogs and two cats.  One of the dogs, Shyner was the first "all my own" doggie. I found her in 1996- she ran out in front of my car as I was coming home from the gym. I tried to find her owner, but to no avail, so I took her home and that begins the story of Shyner, our sweet 15-year old mini- Dalmatian. She has been my faithful companion for over 14 years- all of my adult life- and I can't really remember life without her in it.... and it pains my heart to say that the story has sadly ended.  My "first-born" has earned her angel wings and the loss has hit us hard.  I know that some people would scoff at the loss of an animal- especially in comparison to the devestation in Haiti from last week's earthquake- but I don't care (what they think, not about the earthquake- that's also sad).  It's been a week (hence me also being blog-absent) and although I'm not crying as much these days, having to get over this just plain sucks.


It was wonderful to have such a sweet little dog with us as long as we did; and I've known that she wouldn't be around forever (I sometimes fantasized about Kiera being able to grow up with Shyner by her side...) but I was hoping that the life or death decision wouldn't be left in my hands.  I had always hoped that she might pass away peacefully in her sleep- I can't begin to tell you when I began checking for her breathing in the middle of the night...It was just plain shitty that I had to make the absolute hardest decision in my life; and although I know that it was a very humane one, I've spent the last few days second guessing it.  Jason and I had talked about what we would do is she just wasn't the 'same' anymore, and we'd always agreed that no matter how much the thought of losing her was, we had to do what was best for our fur-baby.

Her quality of life was slowly slipping downhill: we've had to help her up and down the stairs for a few months; when we woke up with Kiera in the middle of the night, we also made sure to wake ShynShyn up and let her out to do her "business" and most recently we've had to cordon her in one of our bathrooms in case she had any mid-day 'accidents.'  But, you should have seen her when you brought home a Scooby Snack from MickeyD's... her head had no idea that it was 15.... it was her heart and hips that were aging...and she certainly still had a puppy's appetite and you best count all of your fingers after you fed her a treat!!  When she was diagnosed with an enlarged heart last April, we had discussed that we would do whatever she wanted as long as it was fair to her and that we weren't keeping her alive just to spare us from dealing with the pain of the loss.  She put up a brave front day after day and we had the privelege of having another nine months with her, even after she ate an entire bottle of her heart medicine!!!


Last Thursday I let her out before I went to bed and stood behind her as we climbed the stairs- we always had to support her backside so that she could keep the momentum- her hips were weakening and couldn't support her entire girly figure.  She huffed and puffed her way down the hall and when she got to the end of our bed, she suddenly collapsed and went limp.  I thought that she had already died, but she came to about 45 seconds later... I yelled at Jason to wake up and quickly explained to him what had happened.  We knew that we had to take her to the vet, but having a baby takes a bit more planning even with a semi-emergency.  We were able to drop Kiera off at GrandmaK's house on the way (I didn't want to have to worry about her while we were there), and then made a detour to Carl's Jr. to treat Shynie to a late nite Scooby Snack.  I was holding her on my lap and she got excited once we pulled up to the drive in window- she knew that the order was for her: one plain and dry Happy Star. 


The nearly 20 minute drive to the vet seemed to take forever (although not as long as the drive home).  I was in a fog the entire time, so Jason had to do most of the talking.  Shyner sniffed her way around the lobby while we were waiting... I was hoping that it was a sign that she was going to be okay; I knew deep down that it wasn't the case, but hoped is the optimal word here.  It was after midnite once we got there (read: extra after hours charge) and the next hour also dragged on.  They put us in a room that was not at all like normal examination rooms- a very comfy couch for us, and a blanket on the floor for our old girl. The vet came in and listened to her heart and lungs and confirmed our worst fears, without costly (that wasn't the issue) and agressive treatment, she didn't have a good prognosis.  Belive me, it had nothing to do with the cost, it was the fact that whatever treatment was done, if she survived it, would only extend her life for a few months.  Putting my loyal friend through painful procedures wasn't going to be in her best interest. 


I wrestled with whether to be in the room with Shyner at the end or not and eventually decided to stay.  I thought about Marley and Me- I remember watching it in the theatre on Christmas Day, 2008 (and very, very early in my pregnancy!) and bawling my eyes out along with 100 other patrons and thinking about Shyner.  I knew that would be us someday.... The vet was right, it was as painless as could be and Shyner drifted off, finally able to run and hop and play again and eat all of the cheeseburgers that she wants.  After one last scratch of her velvety soft ears, I put her black and white and pink polka dotted collar in my purse and we left the hospital... alone.  I knew when we left our house a few hours before that there was a 95% chance that we would not return with her, but I still held out hope.  The drive home took what seemed like hours- the empty and dark freeway was a symbol for my heart.  We picked up Kiera from Jason's mom's house (although Karen offered to keep her overnight, I wanted to have her by my side to keep my mind off of Shyner) and went home.  My head ached nearly as much as my hear from crying... I took some medicine and crawled into bed, with the little bed next to mine now empty. 


Needless to say, I didn't sleep very well and I knew that I would be worthless at work so I took a personal day.  I was relieved to have a four day weekend to mend my broken heart..... unfortunately even some retail therapy didn't work.... I was just too raw. Waking up to Kiera flashing me her sweet little smile helped a little, as did holding her tight, but it has been a long week.  Every day I've cried a little less... I thought that I would make it though Wednesday tear-free but there was a condolensce card in the mail from Shyner's regular vet- very sweet, but oh my gosh..... and even today, we got another card, this one from the emergency vet where we hugged our little Dalmatian one last time. It's taken me the entire week to write this blog entry-  it's hard to type through tears.  Shyner is the third pet that we've lost in less than a year- and although BooBoo was a hard one, this one is twice as hard.  It's been hard seeing the other pets mourn her as well- Dusty has been sleeping in her bed and Cynnie, despite the fact that we thought they weren't the best of friends, has lost her appetite, and has been moping aroudn the house for days. It's hard to explain to them what happened.... we'll all heal together.


Pretty soon we'll laugh at all of the memories of her intead of cry.  We aren't planning on getting another dog for awhile- when Kiera is older maybe... when ever that is, there will never be another Shyner.  I hope that she is happy now, wagging her tail and doing that crazy Dalamatian smile thing.  We'll miss you so much Shyner- you were the best dog ever. 

The Rainbow Bridge

inspired by a Norse legend


By the edge of a woods, at the foot of a hill,
Is a lush, green meadow where time stands still.
Where the friends of man and woman do run,
When their time on earth is over and done.
For here, between this world and the next,
Is a place where each beloved creature finds rest.
On this golden land, they wait and they play,
Till the Rainbow Bridge they cross over one day.
No more do they suffer, in pain or in sadness,
For here they are whole, their lives filled with gladness.
Their limbs are restored, their health renewed,
Their bodies have healed, with strength imbued.
They romp through the grass, without even a care,
Until one day they start, and sniff at the air.
All ears prick forward, eyes dart front and back,
Then all of a sudden, one breaks from the pack.
For just at that instant, their eyes have met;
Together again, both person and pet.
So they run to each other, these friends from long past,
The time of their parting is over at last.
The sadness they felt while they were apart,
Has turned into joy once more in each heart.
They embrace with a love that will last forever,
And then, side-by-side, they cross over… together.

We'll Miss You Chinney!

Five months to the day that we lost our BooBoo kitty, we’ve lost another one of our furkids- our little chinchilla, Ramsey, died this morning. We’re not quite sure what happened- he was fine earlier this week; didn’t look very well yesterday morning but when we took him out to play with him after work he was acting normal.

We adopted Chinney (his nickname!) from a local breeder in the area- Chins 2 Go (if you ever go to the Furs & Feathers exhibit at the State Fair, she is the one that is always there with her chins)- three years ago. This is the second chinchilla that I’ve had; they are pretty easy pets to take care of, but purchasing them can be a bit expensive. They are good cage pets because they have a longer life span than most rodents and are extremely social, easy to take care of, clean and even trainable. The only downfall, if you can call it that, is that you have to take great care to ensure that they don’t get too warm in the summer- they have very dense fur that will cause them to overheat above 90◦. The dense- but super soft- fur is also the reason that they have to have regular ‘dust’ baths.




Because he was a rescue, we got a good deal on him and all of his supplies. Best of all, he was a great pet- a rodent with personality! ( : He was very social and loved his raisins and dust baths! If he felt like he was being ‘ignored’ (we kept him in our home office) he would chirp to tell you to come visit him.




Pets of any type add a special ‘something’ to our lives. I’ve always been a pet lover and have had my share of animals since I was a little girl. A chinchilla isn’t like a cat or dog where you can get super-attached to them, but losing a pet is still sad. Unfortunately, that is part of being a pet owner- knowing that one day you’ll have to say goodbye. Chiney, like the rest of our animals, was spoiled rotten! Someday we will get another chinchilla- probably when BabyW is older and we’re comfortable with parenthood- that’s another journey all on it’s own.




Rest in peace little Chinney dude!

A Prayer for a Friend

I received an e-mail early yesterday morning from my friend Amber - she is also preggers like me and expecting a daughter in mid-August- that broke my heart. Her 18-month-old nephew fell ill very suddenly over the weekend; unfortunately the diagnosis was not good- meningitis. Unfortunately baby Ryder passed away in his mother's arms just hours after Amber sent out the e-mail. I feel so horrible for the family; I can't imagine what they are going through. How can you make sense out of losing such a helpless little guy, and how do you ever recover from that? I'm sure you never do, you just pick up the pieces and try to move on with your life. I didn't know Ryder, but my heart still aches for my friend and having to deal with the loss of their little angel.




I think as I am beginning to start a new chapter in my life as a Mommy, things like this affect me differently. It was hard enough coping with loss during each miscarriage prior to BabyW even though they were very early- if something were to happen to BabyW right now, I would never recover. Even though she sometimes makes my eyes water when she gives me a swift little kick, I love her fiestiness (she's definately going to have red hair!) and predictability. (I can almost set my watch to her little activity in there!) Life would never be the same....




But you do survive. A family friend lost his young son, just four-years-old, to a really rare genetic disease. Again, another senseless tragedy. So unexplainable- especially when you try to do it in medical terms. Little Gregory had Gaucher disease; and at the time of his diagnosis not much was known about it. Basically, in this disease- nearly always fatal- a child lacks an enzyme necessary for their body to eliminate dead cells and stores them in other areas of the body resulting in organ failure. There is no cure. It has been 12 years since Greg and Deborah have lost their son. It has been 11 years that the legacy of Gregory lives on in their charity- the Children's Gaucher Research Fund. They focused their grief into a goal- to help other families that have been affected by this rare disease. And it has helped.... the research is making great strides much in part to the grants that the CGRF provides to the scientific community to study and research lysosomal storage diseases (think along the lines of TaySachs or Parkinsons). I don't know how much it has helped Greg and Deborah cope and survive, but their strength and pursuit of a cure is amazing to me. It's an honor for me to take part in finding a cure: our annual corporate golf tournament (which is taking place next Thursday!!) is in it's 8th year and we donate all net proceeds to the CGRF; and Jason and I also volunteer our time and services in planning and running their biennial medical conferences. It's the least we could do- everyone wants a cause to belong to and I'm sure these efforts will take on a different meaning for us as we become parents.




I hope upon hope that we won't ever have to survive losing our child, but if we do, I know that the love, compassion and strength of friends and family as well as perfect strangers will help us endure. I hope that each day will become easier for Amber's family....




Here's to angels watching over us in Gregory. And now, Ryder.

RIP Little BooBoo Kitty: 10/24/2000 - 03/04/2009

My 8-year old beautiful and sweet kitty, BooBoo died unexpectedly on Wednesday. He went outside with the rest of the fur-critters when I let them out Tuesday before work and didn’t come back in when the others did. I didn’t really think anything of it- on occasion they stay out longer, but always come back at ‘dinner’ time. When I got home from my dad’s later that evening, Jason said he hadn’t seen him- this cat is like a dog and usually always comes when he is called or when you shake the ‘crunchy’ bag (their treats). We searched for him and called but no BooBoo; I didn’t sleep very well last night thinking about him and came downstairs around 3 a.m., but still no kitty. So on Thursday when I let the dogs out around 7 a.m., I walked out into the yard and when I turned around I saw him lying on the patio but he already was gone. I don’t know what happened; since he didn’t come in for his crunchies in the morning, I am assuming that he died suddenly right after I let them out on Tuesday even. He looked as if he just died in mid-step and just fell over- we did some research on the internet and found that there are many cases where a cat can die suddenly of cardiomyopathy, heartworm disease, aneurysms or toxin exposure. Since he wasn’t showing any signs of poisoning, it was definitely something internal; unfortunately we aren’t in the financial position to be able to afford a necropsy.

I knew that there was a strong possibility that something bad had happened, but when I found him it was still such a shock: I started to hyperventilate and tried to go upstairs to find my husband. I barely made it down the hall but I just couldn’t fight through the tears anymore and laid down on the floor in the hallway. I can’t really remember another time that I’ve felt so grief-stricken- not sure if it is the pregnancy hormones or the fact that I raised this kitty from birth; we had his mom and dad both- and she was kind of psycho and didn’t take so well to motherhood, so Baby Boo was my baby in that respect.

BooBoo (named because he was born right before Halloween) was part Siamese and tabby; his beautiful black coat would shine in the light- and you could see faint tabby stripes even. When he was a kitten, he would jump on me when I was in the bathtub and lay right on my stomach- and when he got too big, he would just lay on the edge of the tub curled on a towel to keep me company. Every where I was, he followed and utilized me as his human pillow.
Every night he slept with us- usually curled up on my legs, or even when I was on my side, he hugged me and rested his little chin right on me. Always had to be touching me in some way, either sleeping directly on me or with his head or a paw in my hand- like a living cuddly stuffed animal. He was very un-cat-like in this respect as he liked to be near you. He also loved to be under the covers- I think he got cold easily. (His most recent favorite spot was to wrap himself around the space heater in the living room- surprised he never burned himself!)

He did have his psycho Siamese moments though- he would randomly swat at you for no reason- not a nice little “love pat” when his sharp claws were extended; but we blame that on the psycho mom. The first Christmas that we had him, he singlepawedly took down the tree at least three times, crushing every bulb on it! (Fishing line and an eye-hook fixed that!) Thankfully his dad has two speeds- eat and sleep- and mellowed that kid out a bit.

I even tried to have him ‘altered’ (yes, that’s the euphemism that they use to cut off their little boy parts) twice. Apparently prior to moving into our first house, I had him fixed but forgot about it when I found out one of the three cats had been spraying in the house- so I took BooBoo in to solve the problem. I got to work and they called me to come pick him up- I stated that was fast and they said that they wished all pet owners were as responsible as I and had their cats double-fixed! Anyways I had to take him back to work with me in his carrier and he yowled. I let him out and proceeded to then ‘lose’ him in the office. He was actually tucked under my desk deep in the corner, sleeping and since he is black, blended into the shadow perfectly. Come to find out that it was actually the female (psycho Siamese) that was spraying… I witnessed it! Ugh.

When we moved into our current house four years ago, BooBoo had a field day catching mice at night- we would open the door to go to work and there would be 10-20 mice (often not in one piece…. Ewww) waiting for us- some were even placed strategically near the cars as a going away present. We were going to get little mouse stickers and start a kill wall for the cat. After that summer, we didn’t find too many rodents running around; actually once we heard the coyotes hunting we nixed the nighttime field trips. (Speaking of, I have to say that I’m relieved that he wasn’t killed by the coyotes and went suddenly and I assume with little pain…..) That didn’t prevent him from licking his chops everytime he walked by the hamster cage

So, he wasn’t exactly as much of an angel as his mommy thought- number one, he preferred to go pee in the bathroom sink- eww, I know gross- but turn on the hot water and it’s fixed- so better than the carpet! The funny thing was watching him try to bury it! Speaking of carpet… He also shredded two large holes (2 feet?) on either side of our bed- I think it was a separation anxiety thing…. One still hasn’t been fixed and the other will not be the same! I’m considering laminate flooring! He also came very close to his 5th or 6th life when he scratched me in the face- nearly my eye. I’ve never been so mad at him! My face recovered, but I knew when he had this little scowl to just push him down.

And he had a hate-hate relationship with our rescue dog- when we got Cinnamyn, it took him nearly two years to even come downstairs; and up until yesterday he was still very apprehensive of the big mean dog (oh, he loved our dalmation- they were buds) and hissed like a devil cat. Then he would proceed to run, and of course, Cinny proceeded to chase- reminded me of an old cartoon with the RoadRunner and Wil E Coyote.

This morning, I half-expected him to follow me into the bathroom and take his place on the rug outside the shower…. It’s amazing how a little critter can become such a part of your family and leaves a void when gone. I’m glad I know that he didn’t suffer, but will yearn for some more time to pet him. This cat will always mean so much to me; there are many people who may think it crazy to be so devastated over the loss of a pet, but in essence they are really a part of the family- there for you, day in and day out. So BooBoo: may you always have a large spot of sunshine to lay in; may you be blessed with a bottomless supply of crunchies and an endless supply of mice to catch; a catscratch post that never goes threadbare; a forever-clean litterbox and a comfy bed to rest your precious little head at night. Just know that you were loved very, very much. GodSpeed little guy.