Angus the Survivor

A boring, feckless, brown, warm January descended upon this place. I don't remember a more ugly January. Oh well, it is done and gone. I can only hope for snow in February. And March.

Portia and Angus waiting for the Salmon cans to be opened

Angus, used up one of his 9 lives last weekend. Not sure what happened but he is still well and kicking as of tonight. That is 3 lives that I know of and one extra for my heart. He was run over by a city bus and still bears 3 cracks in his skull, has a quilted ear and bad reaction to anesthesia so he is one tough dude. 
I would not trade the love I feel for my fuzzies - but for the first time I have come to understand when you hear someone say it is too painful to get a new animal. As maturity descends upon me, I feel some sense of what they mean. When you are hurting, you can' t imagine that the good times were ever good enough to make up for the intense horrid loss. Weeks, maybe even months later, you start to push your way through the strands of melancholia and reach up for the light of day. It seems you stumble as you do so, and like walking through a spider web, keep pushing invisible or perhaps just imaginary strands of the bleak loss away. But there is always a tiny bit you miss and it bothers you all the day. 
And, the first few times you laugh out loud, you feel guilt for being able to get on with life. Perhaps it is a version of survivor's guilt. I don't know. 
I have just started to say the name Remy again. I have referred to her as the "big dog" for the last 5 months. It is a distancing technique I employed not consciously but never the less, it seemed to help keep the tears at bay. So, Angus' loss seemed like more than I might be able to bear. I do believe you can die of a broken heart. I also believe that sadness can kill you just as sure as any disease. 

But tonight, we drink wine and hug and perhaps even dance a bit because we have stalled that inevitable day when another loss tests our desire to keep and bear pets who are closer than family and more precious at times than life. Raise your glass to Angus he would do the same for you.


"Thou art the Great Cat, the avenger of the Gods, and the judge of words, and the president of the sovereign chiefs and the governor of the holy Circle; thou art indeed...the Great Cat." - Inscription on the Royal Tombs at Thebes