fiznit

With her brother Scratchy, R.I.P.

entering the dark cave

Receiving the first electric/gas bill of the winter season always horrifies me. For the past two years, it has been particularly horrifying due to 14 ft ceilings and huge drafty windows. If I could levitate, I would rise up and bask in the layer of warm air that is inevitably hovering in the upper two feet of space below the ceiling, far out of reach of those of us subject to gravity’s pull. But instead I spent my day climbing up and down a giant ladder in order to cover the windows with plastic in a pathetic attempt to winterize the place. When I did this at my last place, one of my cats immediately proceeded through the house to all the windows and systematically clawed through every single sheet of plastic. I nearly broke down and cried. This year I decided to seal up the French doors leading out to the porch, too, seeing as when I stand near them I can feel the wind blowing through my hair. Since the remaining cat enjoys sitting in front of these doors watching the outdoor activity, I anticipate slashes through the plastic there sometime within the next few hours. I will never, never, never again be swayed by tall ceilings, panoramic windows, or any other Siren song that seemingly benign rental units may sing sweetly into my hungry ears.

time is a zip tie pulling tight around my summer

Yes, so it is nearing mid-July and I have not done much with my summer beyond log a lot of miles on the bike. People keep asking me if I have any vacation plans. Believe me, I wish I did. I desperately need to lie on a deserted beach for about two weeks. But the chances of that happening are slim in these uncertain times.

My dead cat keeps visiting me in my dreams. They are not bad dreams. I wake up feeling like I was with him. In the dreams, I stroke his soft fur and he responds to my touch, curling his paws around my arm the way he always used to do. I feel like he is trying to tell me that he is still around and that he is happy. I miss him so much. Sometimes when I come home I just want him to be there, yearning to be held. I love his sister, and I am grateful that she is still with me. But they were always like night and day. And she is not meant to be a substitute for him.

Out there is not the answer. It’s in here and we’re breathing it, we’re speaking it, in short quiet moments of insignificance. Always when least expected, and often when most needed.

R.I.P. Scratchy, July 1996 – December 31, 2007

Scratchy, the Super Cat
It is with the deepest sorrow that I write on here today to report the sudden death of my dear feline companion Scratchy. He passed away yesterday afternoon from a heart attack. Unbeknownst to me, Scratchy had developed a heart condition called feline hypertrophic cardiomyopathy (HCM), which is a heart muscle disease where the walls of the heart thicken over time, thus limiting the amount of blood that can be processed by the heart. Often, this condition develops with no visible symptoms, as it did in Scratchy’s case. He appeared lively and healthy up until the point of his death. Complicating the heart condition was another condition, of which I was also unaware. Scratchy was born with one kidney that worked at only a small fraction of the level of his other healthy kidney. With only one kidney filtering his blood, he endured an additional strain on his heart, which likely accelerated the effects of the HCM, leading to his sudden death before any symptoms ever appeared.

HCM is a serious condition for cats, often younger or middle-aged ones, with some evidence suggesting that male middle-aged cats are most frequently struck by it. Although there are medications to help treat the illness if it is caught early enough, the prognosis is rarely good, and most cats don’t live past a year or two after diagnosis. There is no known cure, and eventually the cat will suffer heart failure.

I am so thankful that Scratchy did not suffer. He knew very little pain during his full life, and he likely died almost instantaneously. I found him in the tub, where he had most certainly been engaging in one of his very favorite activities: drinking from the faucet.

As those of you who met him know, Scratchy was a very special cat and he touched a lot of people’s lives. He never failed to win over everyone who met him, even the most hardened of non-cat lovers. All he ever wanted was love, and he had plenty to give in return. He was such a sweet boy, so full of life, and he offered his love unconditionally. He will always remain in my heart in a very special place.

If any of you who read this have a memory or anecdote about Scratchy that you would like to share, I would love to hear it. Please either post it here or email it to me.

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