Bad Dreams

That’s all I have anymore – bad dreams.

My Fuzzy One Kenobi, my Seniõr Fluffy Pants, my Lambchop Legs, My Pumpkin – my Thursday was one of the best cats I’ve ever had.  He was nothing but brightness, he had a light in him that never faded.  Even if he was hurting or in pain there was such brightness about him.  He was always a joy for me to be around.  He was more like a dog than a cat to me.  He would come running to the door just like a dog greeting his master when I returned home.

He was smaller than the palm of my hand when we brought him home.  Originally, he was supposed to be my mother’s cat after Sundae was put to sleep.  I took my mother all over town for days trying to find a cat for my mother who was still grieving.  We went to people’s houses that had placed ads, to the pound, to pet stores, it was a gruelling process watching my mother not be able to give up her love for the cat she had lost.

Finally, we went to our vet which has one of the greatest vets and people I’ve had the privilege to know.  Dr. Marks is a selfless vet who is more interested in giving great care to animals who might not otherwise get to receive it than a fancy name plate.  He is truly a great man.  We went in on the off-chance they might know of anyone who had kittens.  The receptionist left and returned with this tiny ball of orange and white fluff that came bounding out of her hands climbed up to me putting his nose and mouth on my mouth – completely unafraid, unashamed, and full of life.  He stood out from all the other cats and kittens we had seen over the days.

The receptionist wanted to make sure he was going to be an indoor cat since on one paw he only had two claws – the rest of his paw looked like a clear-cut.

I leash trained both Tuesday and Thursday to go on walks with me.  I had a stroller that I would also take them for walks.  I took them both for car rides.  I was preparing them for when my mother and I were going to move away.

It was only a few weeks after we adopted Thursday – on a Thursday – that my mother asked me to take over as his mother, caregiver, and his person.  My mother wanted a cat that would stay in her room at night, and Thursday was not interesting in being confined.  He had a mind of his own which he did not see anything wrong with using.  He wanted to be free to do as he pleased.  He was in no way a bad cat.  Simply, if he wanted to go from one room to the next, he wanted the freedom to do so.  This is how he became my cat.  I did not have such rules for him – there was no need.

He had the cutest little legs I just had to pinch and sqeezes them all the time.  He was so fluffy, bounding with light – always.  He was super smart.  He loved to be with people.  He loved to be in the kitchen with me with a constant, what are you doing, all about him.  He loved water.  He was fascinated with faucets.  He was a most special cat that I am still grieving for.

Too-too, my Toots-McGoots, my Tuesday – adopted on a Tuesday – became my cat after placing my mother in a home.  She was my mother’s cat.  Tuesday fell instantly in love with my Babee Bear as soon as she was brought to our home.  She loved him, loved him, loved him.  She was completely devoted to Babee Bear.  She was only six weeks old when we brought her home, but she was all Bear’s from the first moment.  Bear loved her too, but he was an old man.  He was not about to put on such a display as she did.

My guess is that my mother hoped Tuesday and Thursday would have a lifelong companionship like Friday and Sundae since Babee Bear was a confirmed bachelor of old age.  Babee Bear was 100% devoted to me and me alone.  There was no one else in the whole world for Bear than me.  It was nice for me to be able to see Bear and Tuesday together.  Babee Bear deserved all the love in the world.

At the end, Babee Bear was in so much pain.  He never complained.  It was like his mother’s rejection he took it as his cross to wear.  But, it was all over him, everywhere.  He was in tremendous pain.  The life my Babee Bear got to live.  If you only got to read about it.

Thursday had no exact age since the vet had no idea of his real age, he had simply been dropped off.  I have no idea what happened to him before he got to the vet, but he seemed as if he was not used to eating regularly.  He had been taken away from his mother too early – he was that small.  He would eat food like a vacuum instead of licking his food.  He would eat so much his belly would swell like a blown balloon about to pop.  But, it didn’t take much time before his stomach returned to its shape.  It was months before he finally started growing.  Tuesday was much bigger and healthier than him.  But, Thursday’s spirit never dampened.

Thursday used to love sweet potatoes.  He didn’t even need butter.  He wanted to know everything.  He wanted to know every person that came to the house.  Who are you?  He was a most special cat in every way.

I am still so upset.

The stories I could come up with from my time before that monorail man took and stole my whole life away.

I suppose it might not be interesting to anyone else, but me.  However, I doubt that and I do not feel that is true.  But, I see no way to be able to write them given my present situation and circumstance.

It’s an easy fix if it were up to me, but no one listens to me.  Nor, do they listen to me correctly.

I am so ashamed of myself that both he and Tuesday are no longer with me.  I thought my brother was going to be taking care of them for me for a short time since things here in this house were so bad I was having more than a hard time functioning.

It is a loss that cannot be replaced.

Do you know since I was a little I used to find ladybugs everywhere.  Someone told me they were good luck.  I don’t know about that, but I used to find them all the time.  I would take them and try to place them in a better eating place where they could find more aphids.  Somewhere with roses.

I was working in Dillard’s – the store had only been open a few months – when merchandising a display case of handbags I noticed a lady bug in the closed case crawling inside on the top.  I quickly took it in my hands walking it out the door to freedom.  I have no idea how it could have manage to live much longer in the pungent fresh leather smell.

I used to find them all the time.  I stopped taking notice of them because they became as routine as the sky.  However, the interference of my life has stopped the small details like the ladybugs who came to me – they did not come by accident.

I am so sick of the bluetooth stealing, changing the story, and editing incorrectly before I have the chance to write and tell the story and stories straight.

Bad dreams anymore.