Thursday, October 25, 2012

Miles to go before

Snow fell today. Not much, just the first flakes, the beginning of the inevitable winter. 

Snow fell today, and I am watching my cat sleep, and I am thinking about death.

My cat, Stella is dying. Not in the "no one gets out of this alive, life is a guaranteed fatal condition" way that we all are. She has cancer. It's untreatable. I am watching her sleep and wanting to cry because while yesterday was a good day, today is not. And the things that the vet told me would happen, the ways I would know this is getting worse, they have been happening this past week.

I know it's the pathetic fallacy, I know it is. An editor would make me change this for the heavy-handedness of it. But it seems like as this year turns and dies, there have been endings everywhere. Too many people I know are saying goodbye.

I could fix this, if it were fiction. There are archetypes and patterns, the seasons turn. There is rebirth and resurrection. Hell, even rock songs wonder if "maybe everything that dies, comes back some day."

I cannot fix life. It is heartbreaking, and is incurable. And beautiful and glorious and the sorrows do not erase the joys at all. 

But the snow fell, and it is cold, and my cat is sleeping.


  1. This made me cry. Big, heavy, ugly tears. For so many reasons, the first being: I'm a pet owner. They're furry little family members. And when they suffer, we suffer. I am sorry that you are both going through this. It is beyond awful.

    The second is: cancer sucks. If it was person, we'd all punch it in the face. Like you, especially lately, I've felt that too much is ending -- there are too many goodbyes. Right now, the Autumn leaves are beautiful by me -- but it feels too much like a precursor for other changes.

    But this isn't about me; this is your sorrow. This is part of your story. And it hurts, I know. I am sending you both so many hugs and so much love.

  2. I've lost many critter companions over the years, and none of them was ever easy, or allowed me to get through their death without a broken heart.

    Got a candle in the window for you both.


  3. My cats' health problems have taught me to be grateful for the time I've spent with them, and to enjoy the most of every second I can still have with them. Most of all, to do whatever I can to grant them the best quality of life possible.

    It's never enough, and it's never fair. It's only what we can do. So is life, I guess.

    A big hug to Stella.

  4. Oh, Kat, I'm so sorry. I know that sensation of waiting and watching. Sending so many *hugs* for you and for Stella.

  5. Yes, this is sad and awful - especially that you can't do anything to change things or to help her. Nothing I can say could make it better, so I'll just wish you strength and warmth and comfort.

    1. Thank you, Steffi. I really appreciate it.

  6. I was going through this earlier this month, with my own lovely boy Domino, who was 14 and a half... You're right, about all of it. Good luck, thinking the best thoughts I can for you both.

    Best wishes,