Sound of Silence in Packrat

Silence can speak volumes. Saying nothing here means life otherwise has been filled, and nothing of me is left over to sit down and write about it. Except today - on Labor Day I do not labor.
Tears and heartache. Patch, my “doctor cat” crossed the Rainbow Bridge a few days ago. She could always tell when something was amiss, soothing my sinuses, heating my aching hand by curling her little body on it to keep it warm, sniffing, licking, and rubbing herself on my foot before I knew anything was wrong. When my chiropractor advised me to massage my pressure points, he pointed out the same areas where she licked me to bring me comfort and relief. When I told him so he said, “Your cat was right.”
…Only once was she wrong in her “diagnosis”, and to be fair she wasn’t the only one: I like to sing but have absolutely no talent for it. One night in my cat cottage I felt particularly content and happy and sang out my overflowing joy - to the consternation of Patch and Willow, one of the others. Patch rushed to me, meowing, rubbing herself on my arms; Willow placed a paw on my arm and inquired worriedly, “Eh?” Now I sing only in my car or when totally alone to spare all living things my tortured warbling.
…She was in good health, clear eyes, healthy coat, appetite, “leavings”, and her demeanor hadn’t changed; she had always been a calm, laid back cat. She never engaged in the petty arguments the others have had. At mealtimes the other cats scrambled to be fed first as if they hadn’t eaten for days and wouldn’t get anything if they didn’t, but she sat patiently, knowing she’d get her share and that I would be there to watch and make sure the other cats didn’t push her from her bowl.
…She was healthy, alert, and went about her business as usual. She was also 14 years old. I never thought of her as old. She just stopped living. She went to sleep and didn’t wake up. Here today and gone the next. I’m glad she had a good quality of life all the way through; she deserved it, but I miss her terribly and cry for her every day. Still, she didn’t suffer any illness like Aw Shucks, 12, or any age related problem like M’ow at 19 and Bastet (who came to me fully grown; I don’t know how old she was).
…So great sadness for a long time companion.
Surgery but not my own this time. My mother had surgery; we’ve been expecting it for a while with dates and times changing. She had it about a week ago so is still sore and has to wear a neck brace for another month (I teased her about having to wear “the cone of shame”) but it definitely helped her. She expects things to happen much more quickly than they really do (recovery, the legal process with my niece) so she sets herself up for disappointment. It takes me twice as long to do something now and I get tired easily but I take care of her. She finally got help from our elders’ program so someone can be here when I go to work, but I do the bulk of care. Still, she moves about more easily, even though she doesn’t see it, and she was eating solid food within a couple of days (the surgery was on her neck). She’s more independent than she has been for a long time.
Work Drama. Augh! The Wunderkind and her assistant have offices in my building, which is as it should be. Our language department has always been meant to share the building, but now that they’re finally moving to it they wanted more room when they already have a huge classroom that takes up most of that side and two offices, one of which they aren’t using. The classroom was for the week long summer classes they haven’t had in three years, and the weekly night class gets one student, who’s our security guard.
The Wunderkind and her assistant have to move to an office that will need extensive restoration for confidentiality and security. She doesn’t mind moving, but I do for the simple reason that we should have likewise had a say. I sent an email to several departments for the renovations (that aren’t needed where she is now) and a text to my liaison asking how and why did they make a decision without talking to both of us? He’s going to be in a meeting I have to be at in a couple of days so I’m going to ask him again; he didn’t answer me the first time. No one expected that he would, and I didn’t think he would either but one department whines to the elected officials and no one gives the other department a chance to weigh in?
Meeting. It’s actually a meeting with my mom about use of her land for a business enterprise (that I actually don’t want - I wanted to let the local animal shelter move there). I’ve already stated my objections, asked for a back up plan should the business fail (which I even think is unlikely but my town is full of boarded up buildings on the main street) and the resume of the person who’ll spearhead the effort. He’s the executive director for our casino, where he hired a general manager with NO experience because her mother is one of the elected officials (who just got voted out), the restaurant closed down for “filth”, and the projected amount of per cap is smaller than we’ve ever had although he was brought in because he’s supposed to know so much about gaming enterprises. His decisions seem very poor, and I don’t want to have a failed business right across the street.
S is going to be at the meeting. Oookaay…
Dance - we didn’t. I attended but didn’t see him; I realized that we heard each other but didn’t really listen. Normally at dances you see each other out in the arena or on the floor; he told me he doesn’t really dance anymore but sits in the stands. You also see each other as you walk around the perimeter, something I can’t do, and this dance allowed only the dancers, singers, arena directors, and judges out on the floor. So I looked for him out in the arena, and if he looked for me he didn’t look in the handicapped section. I fell flat on my face before I even made it into the building. It’s a dance; I didn’t think to take my cell phone and I don’t know if he had his. We’ve emailed since, but I don’t know when we’ll get a chance to see each other again unless we make specific plans, and I don’t think we’re ready for that yet. We don’t have the free time we did, and now his job doesn’t have the flexibility he used to have. It’s also in a different field than mine, so we wouldn’t be attending the same conferences or meetings.
… I got caught up in a romantic dream, remembering him as he was, not thinking about today’s reality where elderly parents need our time and attention, children are now in our lives (my niece, his grandchildren), or that he would be more 9-5 now. We live two hours apart and then our jobs take us even farther away. But…the door has been opened. :-)

Last updated September 04, 2017