ABOUT ME

About me: I'm 42 and added another gherkin to our pickle party of a family. My husband Chuck, our 9-year-old Junior, our 6-year-old Everett, our toddler and I live in a town in Connecticut I affectionately call Mulletville Lite (aka my childhood hometown). My friends call me Nutjob, and they're right. In my husband's spare time he dresses up as a Viking and chases ghosts (and I'm the nutjob?). When I'm not busy working as a graphic designer, I lie in a ball in the corner.

Wednesday, October 26, 2011

Appreciating the small things: When your grief harmonizes with the season

I want to thank everyone for their kind emails and words on my last post (in which I sniveled all over my keyboard about the passing of my cat.)

In all seriousness, I expected a few snarly comments along the lines of "Get over it, it's a cat!" mainly because I had said that very thing to my college roommate when she described the passing of her beloved childhood cat.

(So now you know, when I was in college I read poems like "Having it Out with Melancholy" and laughed at other people's pain. Child of divorce? Who, me?)

For the last few days Chuck and I have been curled up on the couch with the cat that's, um, still alive.



It's been comforting to hold her but I won't lie, for one passing nanosecond I did ask Chuck what his thoughts on taxidermy were (I couldn't help it, Martha said everyone's doing it).

Chuck looked at me like I was crazy.

Rightfully so.

It's going to take some time to get over this loss. After curling up with this



for the last 10 years, I find myself somewhat obsessed with all things soft and knitty. I've been searching my house—in vain, of course—for substitutes. I keep wrapping myself up in sweater coats. I bought myself some chunky knit gloves at H&M:



I guess I should be grateful it's not mid-July.

Junior's been handling the loss of our cat quite well. After the dead-cat-in-the-trunk episode, I worried he might need therapy. Or at least a therapeutic session with a hand puppet. Nope, he looked at our Calico on the couch and said, "I'll watch animal shows because she likes them. But if she begins to like PBS Kids, that'd be great."

Ah yes, television. Saving the lives of cats and preschoolers one household at a time.

(Could someone knit me a cat for Christmas?)

4 comments:

DysFUNctional Mom said...

The fact that you are buying soft fuzzy mittens just hurts my heart.
I have FIVE cats and would be more than happy to Fed Ex one of them to you. Just saying.

Frogs in my formula said...

But are they fluffy?? I need the fluff, woman!

Mama Badger said...

Me thinks you need a kitten. Something small and mewey to distract you through the long winter. I always say when mine go there will be no more, but I suspect these are just two in a long line...

VandyJ said...

I second the kittin idea--but only if it can outdistance Diddlydoo. It's only fair to give the kitten a head start.