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Saturday, Sunday, Death, and the Cats
My weekend was pleasant, on the whole.
Saturday i slept late, got some laundry in, gathered the recycling, and headed to the Reston South Recycling Center, intending to go for a hike along the Potomac after dumping the metal and plastic and paper. Just as i was opening the back of the CR-V, my phone rang. Twas L with the news that The Evil - her grandmother - had died an hour before. So instead of a hike, i went to Springfield via a still-scenic, if not as scenic as it once was, route, to pay call on Ms Brown, L's mother and The Evil's daughter.
As always, it was nice to see Ms Brown, despite the circumstances. Ms Allen's passing has freed Ms Brown of a huge burden - that of five years of caring for and responsibility for her mother. So many mixed emotions in the house that day, though that too shall pass.
Sunday was the Great Day of Laundry. At one point, i opened the sliding glass door enough to stick my arm out to see if i felt like getting dressed to leave the house. The door started shaking in a familiar way. I released the door and watched. It shook just so three times more before i opened it a smidge more. The door behaved as expected. Jasper has left the building.
It is common, among humans, to hear/see the departed briefly some days to a week or so after their passing or memorial service, whatever form that may take. I've had many, many reports from people of similar sounds/sights through many moons now.
A week after my father died, on one evening, as my sister and i were going to bed, mom heard the distinctive sound that Dad's belt buckles made - i wonder if she still has any of them, many vintage Secret Service ones - i heard the distinct squeak the top stair made when he came up the stairs after his right leg began to go due to the nerve damage from late 1973 or early 1974, and my sister heard the particular squeak the floor outside her bedroom door made when he stood there briefly to look in on her as we were going off to sleep.
When i opened a sliding door, Jasper would run up, stick his head through and ram it with his shoulders, knowing that many will slide open enough for him to pass, which meant the door vibrated as he went through, as he would go through the smallest opening he could fit through. Coming in, however, usually required widening the opening a few centimetres for him. The feel/sigh/sound of the door is very familiar. I'm sure that he has moved on now, and i wish him only the best. The way the door behaved, he was anxious to go out and be truly free, for the anxiety of his brain chemistry kept him from being as free as he might have been in the flesh, though i suppose his bon with me may have played some role in that too. He'll be well missed, but he had a long life for his species.
Feldspar has been cuddlier and a bit clingier at me since Thursday last. Alabaster is 11 months now, and doing well, and behaving like the kitten he is, and shall be yet for a while more. I look forward to seeing how his personality changes in the coming months and years.
Continuing on about Alabaster for a bit, let me tell you about his hair. He's rabbit-furred, which means incredibly soft. He has a thin, very fine coat of 3-5 cm long hair on his body and tail, slightly shorter on his legs and face. Hair that sticks to everything, and i mean everything. Hair that floats on the least wind. Hair that forms visually interesting self-macrame in the dryer filter. In the end, his hair, which is much of his beauty, is his least endearing feature. I groom him often to reduce shedding. His tail produces huge quantities. New pictures before too long, i promise, if you're interested.
And coming back round to Jasper, i called CRK after i took the body to the vet for disposal. CRK then kindly sent these three pictures of Jasper from 2004, when he was 13, and i had just moved into my 1st Reston apartment. The first two, especially the second, captures the beautiful yellow eyes which earned him his name.
Goodbye, Little Fucker*, as above, you shall be remembered. Peace unto you.
*a)Jasper sired a litter at age 9 months. b)He annoyed the bejeezus out of me when he was young, though his most annoying traits disappeared after Feldspar came into our life. c)Due to the part of me that resembles my mother, he responded to Fucker as readily as he did to Jasper, and long before the end, Fucker had come to be a term of endearment at him. :)
Saturday i slept late, got some laundry in, gathered the recycling, and headed to the Reston South Recycling Center, intending to go for a hike along the Potomac after dumping the metal and plastic and paper. Just as i was opening the back of the CR-V, my phone rang. Twas L with the news that The Evil - her grandmother - had died an hour before. So instead of a hike, i went to Springfield via a still-scenic, if not as scenic as it once was, route, to pay call on Ms Brown, L's mother and The Evil's daughter.
As always, it was nice to see Ms Brown, despite the circumstances. Ms Allen's passing has freed Ms Brown of a huge burden - that of five years of caring for and responsibility for her mother. So many mixed emotions in the house that day, though that too shall pass.
Sunday was the Great Day of Laundry. At one point, i opened the sliding glass door enough to stick my arm out to see if i felt like getting dressed to leave the house. The door started shaking in a familiar way. I released the door and watched. It shook just so three times more before i opened it a smidge more. The door behaved as expected. Jasper has left the building.
It is common, among humans, to hear/see the departed briefly some days to a week or so after their passing or memorial service, whatever form that may take. I've had many, many reports from people of similar sounds/sights through many moons now.
A week after my father died, on one evening, as my sister and i were going to bed, mom heard the distinctive sound that Dad's belt buckles made - i wonder if she still has any of them, many vintage Secret Service ones - i heard the distinct squeak the top stair made when he came up the stairs after his right leg began to go due to the nerve damage from late 1973 or early 1974, and my sister heard the particular squeak the floor outside her bedroom door made when he stood there briefly to look in on her as we were going off to sleep.
When i opened a sliding door, Jasper would run up, stick his head through and ram it with his shoulders, knowing that many will slide open enough for him to pass, which meant the door vibrated as he went through, as he would go through the smallest opening he could fit through. Coming in, however, usually required widening the opening a few centimetres for him. The feel/sigh/sound of the door is very familiar. I'm sure that he has moved on now, and i wish him only the best. The way the door behaved, he was anxious to go out and be truly free, for the anxiety of his brain chemistry kept him from being as free as he might have been in the flesh, though i suppose his bon with me may have played some role in that too. He'll be well missed, but he had a long life for his species.
Feldspar has been cuddlier and a bit clingier at me since Thursday last. Alabaster is 11 months now, and doing well, and behaving like the kitten he is, and shall be yet for a while more. I look forward to seeing how his personality changes in the coming months and years.
Continuing on about Alabaster for a bit, let me tell you about his hair. He's rabbit-furred, which means incredibly soft. He has a thin, very fine coat of 3-5 cm long hair on his body and tail, slightly shorter on his legs and face. Hair that sticks to everything, and i mean everything. Hair that floats on the least wind. Hair that forms visually interesting self-macrame in the dryer filter. In the end, his hair, which is much of his beauty, is his least endearing feature. I groom him often to reduce shedding. His tail produces huge quantities. New pictures before too long, i promise, if you're interested.
And coming back round to Jasper, i called CRK after i took the body to the vet for disposal. CRK then kindly sent these three pictures of Jasper from 2004, when he was 13, and i had just moved into my 1st Reston apartment. The first two, especially the second, captures the beautiful yellow eyes which earned him his name.
Goodbye, Little Fucker*, as above, you shall be remembered. Peace unto you.
*a)Jasper sired a litter at age 9 months. b)He annoyed the bejeezus out of me when he was young, though his most annoying traits disappeared after Feldspar came into our life. c)Due to the part of me that resembles my mother, he responded to Fucker as readily as he did to Jasper, and long before the end, Fucker had come to be a term of endearment at him. :)