Critique and Craft: Stream-of-Consciousness Writing • Ghosts

Ghosts

I am collecting ghosts.

Favorite cat was by the porcelain goose on the top

shelf near The Bumper Book, the book that holds

the ghost of my toddler self. I walked by and

smiled that smile that goes inside to me

and not out to the world. Another day, one was

in the bathroom sitting by the Italian sun bust— right

where she sat for my favorite picture of her—white

Feather-fluff, tail wrapped around her toes.

She seems porcelain now too.

There at the same sink I felt a touch so tender
on my elbow tonight—even turned to address my man

but there was no one there. 

Another message from an unknown sender.  

Mama lives in my laptop, the place 

she’d love most if she were still alive.

I’d show her all the tricks and she’d have the

Web mastered in no time, like she mastered

dealing cards, then Business, and quilting, calligraphy,

the art of love, and anything else she put her mind to.

She had no master. 

             Do I? 

Of course not. I am her daughter, the one who cried

in fear of shadows in my bedroom late at night and

nestled against her breast as she held me close—

never-ever saying that I did not

see what I saw. 

                                        MLydiaM ~ May 2012

Written for Critique and Craft—Stream-of-Consciousness Writing at dVerse Poets.

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Farewell Feather (aka Feather Sweet, Baby Cake, Munchkin, Bobbin)

Last Wednesday afternoon, on my flight home to Oregon, my thoughts were of our sweet cat, Feather, and of the unknown number of hours remaining for us to be together. I knew they would be limited because of phone reports from my husband about her weakening condition while I was at the family reunion in Minnesota.

One cannot live with a white cat and not be reminded of that pet when looking at clouds, and, so, as the plane coasted along over the states I saw puffs of her in every floating form. I felt gratitude to be in that floating space that I envisioned Feather attaching to, and disappearing from, very soon.

I was glad my window seat was on the side of the plane where this view of Mount Hood could give me peace and strength.


Although it was not quite 6:00 p.m., the cloud cover over Portland made the night seem so near.

My shuttle ride into Salem did not leave the Portland airport until 6:45 p.m., which gave me plenty of time to gather my bag and get a double-shot latte at Starbucks. Michael met me at the shuttle drop at 8:00 p.m. and we had a fast dinner in the restaurant on site before heading home to Silverton.

Feather was not on any bed or couch or chair where she could be comfortable. Instead, she hunched under a table in the upstairs bedroom, where I laid on the floor to greet her. Crying, I thanked her for waiting for me because it was evident that she could have just as easily let go. When Michael went to bed she stayed there with him for awhile, but before long he called to me to let me know that she had cried out. I placed her in the cat box where she dutifully left a spot of urine and two tiny turds that broke my heart.

Our pattern for so many years has been my being at the computer late into the night, with Feather on my lap or, more recently, laying on the rug beside my computer chair. Wednesday night, however, I felt hyper and so did not sit, but instead unpacked and cleaned up the kitchen in between checking where and how Feather was. I was at the sink when she made her way down three stairs on the stairway just to watch me. And to tell me with her eyes that she wanted to give up but did not know what she was giving up or how to do it. At 1:00 a.m. I woke up Michael, rather beside myself in an uncharacteristic inability to decide what to do, and when he mentioned the overnight Salem Emergency Vet Clinic, whose marvelous services we have used in the past, everything fell into place. While he dressed I called the clinic to advise them that we were driving in with Feather for her to be euthanized. Feather's adoring cat companion who died in 2007 was put to sleep while cozy in a favorite wool afghan, and it was in that same afghan that we nestled Feather to ride in my lap in the dark of night. I selected a yoga music cd to play because she knew it well from all the days she was at my side during yoga practice, and she seemed soothed by it while possibly slipping in and out of consciousness. When we were only blocks from the clinic she let out two kittenish mews, which confirmed her need for release.

Michael rang the night buzzer and they let him inside, where he filled out the paperwork and paid for the euthanasia and for a private cremation (her ashes will be ready for him to pick up after work today and we will have something tangible to treasure). I cradled Feather in my arms in the car until all was ready for her. The vet and her assistant were both so kind. The clinic was hushed in the silence of night, as four loving people and one beloved and loving cat shared in that most solemn and precious of moments. And then she was gone.

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Family Reunion in Minnesota

family by Vladimir Moldavsky


I am going to a family reunion on Sunday at the home of my niece, Lori, who lives in Minneapolis. Her father will be there and his brother, too. This is altogether wonderful because those two men happen to be my older brothers, with whom I was not raised and have not spent nearly enough hours in our lifetimes together. It has been about 34 years since I met them for the first time, which was the last time I saw Lori's dad, although my other brother did visit me here in Oregon 20 long years ago.

Each of them had five kids and those kids now have their own families.....and quite a few of those people will be there at the reunion. One of them is my nephew, Ron, who has been stationed in Iraq since July 2010 and just got back to the U.S. last week. His brother, my nephew Jim, is coming from Korea where he and his wife have made their home. So those two will have made the longest trips to the reunion, and I imagine I will come in third.

BLOGCATION ~ I fly out on Saturday afternoon and will return home on Wednesday night, and will not be posting (including Old Postcard Wednesday) or commenting those days.

Our 15-year-old precious cat, Feather, has had a terrible decline in her health in the last week. I took her to the vet yesterday and x-rays showed she was filled with fluid. Her vet believes it to be cancer, and recommended euthanasia. Because she is not in pain, and because she is such a baby needing home and us more than anything, I brought her home. She is eating well the last 24 hours, sipping water, listening to classical music, sitting in windows watching birds and smelling summer in the air. Please, while I am away, send many blessings of hope, prayer, and soothing wishes to my Feather Sweet for her to be strong enough to be here when I come home (I am thinking of Paul Simon's song, Mother and Child Reunion...). My husband will be taking two-hour lunches on Mon-Wed to come home mid day and will be with her each night. May love shine all around this house and keep my family safe...... and I wish the same for Lori's reunion house.

 Feather - June 17, 2011

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In a cat's eye, all things belong to cats.*

I took this shot of our cat, Feather, one afternoon in November. I was busy doing something in the bedroom and felt I was being watched. She has assumed this peeking pose throughout her life but I've never before gone for the camera to capture the image. Surprisingly, I found her in the same position when I returned to the bedroom with the camera. A cat thinking.

Feather will be 15 years old this coming March and she amazes us by seeming a kitten or young cat in so many ways. When she reached 7 lbs. in her first years she simply stopped growing. Where Shiva is obese and I am now having to monitor Willow's food intake, Feather eats enough to maintain her 7 lbs. and is content. Consequently, she can still run and play like a kitten and I think her mind is sharper too because she is in such great shape.

I would guess that 90% of all the posts here at Writerquake have been written with Feather in my lap for at least a portion of the writing. She is here now, sitting up in my lap so that her furry white head obscures my vision of the left side of the keyboard. As always, she is purring. When I wrap this up in a few minutes she will follow me into the bathroom to drink from the bathtub faucet while I get ready for bed. She will follow me into the bedroom and will find a cozy corner on the bed for some dreamtime. She will be there when I wake up in the morning.

Feather is the oldest of all our pets and is the only one who moved here to our house with us. All the others came afterward. She is truly the little mystic of the house. The hub of the wheel that keeps the works turning. The one who watches with huge eyes as the years roll by. A featherweight of a cat who has lightened the dark spots of my life more times than I can count. The pet who truly loves her mommy and daddy (yes, she does know those are our names) equally. A perfectly healthy feline. A cat being close to perfect. A cat being close. A cat being. Here. Now.



_____________
* English proverb

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cool cats chillin' on a sizzling weekend

 

When it is 95 degrees outside and you are an inside cat what's fun is to sleep in a sunbeam on the floor upstairs for awhile and then, when you get good and toasty, to head downstairs where the air conditioning is working superbly.

Here they are: Willow on top showing off her wispy tiny beard, Shiva Lullaby being...well..Shiva, and Feather -- seemingly lit from within -- who has experienced so many summers that she cuddles into my grandmother's wool afghan whenever I'm in the office...day or night, summer or winter.

:::

Meanwhile, here is a mini-video that shows some adults who should be fined for not stopping this future sociopath from tossing a cat in the pool and risking the safety of both child and cat. I hope kitty kept on running until well out of the neighborhood where it found a safe, cool, loving home. There's not much hope for that kid unless a good foster family is in the future.





Video via Tiny.pic


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my cats get a jump on spring with some video catnip

Here are all three of my cats (the pampered indoor-only gang as opposed to the pampered outside-garage three) in one short video clip that warms my heart because it shows their personalities and why I love them so much.

Pure white Feather (14 years old) and Willow (one year+) sit together in front of the tv to watch a VHS tape titled Video Catnip, while Shiva Lullaby (two years+) watches the scene from a favorite chair.....

~