the unspooling continues... pt. 4
love 'em while you can
A short one today—more of an update, really.
I’m cookin’ up something special for unspooling this week but it needs a few more days to marinate. I’m aiming to finish it up sometime on Sunday—sorry about the wait—but I think it’s going to be worth it. And yes, I’m being deliberately vague… feeling tantalized yet?
summer has come and passed
You know that saying about life and lemonade?
Yeah, well, I’ve always found it rather annoying.
One time, when I blew an assignment in university, my friend leaned over and, in a gleeful sing-song tone, said “When life hands you lemons…”
“Heh—yeah,” I managed to reply—but I was really just imagining what it might be like to squeeze lemon juice directly into his eyes.
I hate that stupid saying. Always have.
Yeah, well… this week… I’ve been making lemonade.
Want some?
See this handsome little devil?
According to the vet, he’s developed a pretty serious heart murmur. Technically, I’m told, he could drop dead at any minute.
to see life as fun and take it if we can
His name is Huxley. At least, that’s what we tell people. But if you hung around our place, you’d never know it.
Instead, you’d hear us call him: Baby Boy, Kitty Man, Little Tiger Kitty, The Orange One, Bucks, Buxley, John—yep, just John, Jean Bucks (said in a French Canadian accent), and, the perennial favourite, John Bucks. When I’m feeling especially frisky, I’ll even combine the names into a grand title, “I’ll have you know, peasant, that I’m the Little Orange Baby Tiger Kitty Man and I’m entitled to treats whenever I demand them—and I demand them now! Unhand me, servant! I say, unhand me! Guards—GUARDS!”
It’s silly, isn’t it? The bizarre (and often stupid) inside jokes that end up knitting you into a family.
i threw the day old tea from the cup
So, yeah, the Little Orange Kitty Man has an appointment with the cardiologist this week to get a better sense of what’s going on with his thumper and what, if anything, we can do to ensure that he continues to live a happy and otherwise healthy life.
We’ve taken the news in stride—that he appears so vital on the outside probably goes a long way—but, at least for weird Cat People like myself, and k, who see our cats as family, not pets, it’s pretty goddamn terrifying to be told that his heart might suddenly give out.
He’s here with me now, as I write these words, curled up in front of the radiator, basking in the heat, cleaning his immaculate white forepaws—but there’s already a part of me that’s grieving him.
I fear that I’ll wake up one morning and find a limp puppet in his place, instead of my beautiful, vibrant little guy. I fear he might become afraid, or that there will be pain at the end, and that I won’t be able to comfort him. I fear losing him “before his time,” even though I don't believe in that sort of thing at all.
When it’s his time, it’s his time; just as long as it’s well past his tenth birthday.
More than anything… I fear I haven’t loved him fiercely enough.
i’ll find my way, through night and day
I share this story, not to win your sympathy or pity—we all have our crosses to bear—but to illustrate a point: that the universe has handed me an opportunity to practice what I preach.
Just last week I wrote about fear as a teacher and how an appreciation of death can deepen the meaning of our lives. The week before that, I wrote about the necessity of accepting change, especially difficult, unwanted change.
So it seems I haven’t exactly left myself much weasel room, have I?
But that’s the thing… I feel like I’m doing alright, despite the steaming pile of fear and unwanted change that’s been dumped at my door.
I’ve noticed a shift in my demeanour and attitude toward Bucks. The depth of my appreciation for him has become almost boundless. Every interaction has become an opportunity to tell him how much I love him, to reflect on the joy he brings to my life. Each time he walks into the room is another chance to sweep him up into my arms and brave his claws while showering him in unwanted affection. Each time he asks for my attention while I’m trying to concentrate on writing, I choose to see it as an opportunity to take a short break and give him some lovin’, when before I might have given him a half-hearted pat on the head without tearing my eyes from the screen. My work is important to me but it’s not that important.
My priorities have been radically realigned.
Love and appreciation have become default settings. Other reactions don’t seem to make much sense anymore. Why be frustrated when he sneaks past us and escapes into the hallway? There’ll come a day when we won’t have to guard the door whenever we come home and we’ll long for just one more chance to chase down that Little Tiger Kitty Man before he can sneak into someone else’s apartment or escapes into the stairwell.
Regrettably, it required waking up to the threat of losing him to fully unlock the potential of my love. In that sense, it feels like I’ve failed him. (Failed them all, really.) But, once again, fear and death have taught me how to rectify that mistake and do better going forward. Now is my chance to begin again. These are the moments I must seize. Even if he somehow lives another fifteen years, I’ll never see him in the same light again. He’ll always be that much more precious to me. I will learn to be strong enough to let go of regret and humble enough to honour my commitment to love him, even when it’s not easy.
Those are the lessons I’ve taken away from this latest brush with mortality’s brittleness. I’m sure they’re nothing you didn’t already know but we all need reminders sometimes. They say wisdom is the ability to follow one’s own advice, after all.
So remember to love your Dear Ones fiercely while you can, because you won’t always be able to. And regret will drown you.
Remember that frustration only lasts a few seconds—a few minutes at most—but love can last a lifetime.
Remember that *this* is it, the movie’s going on right now, there’s no other time in which to embrace and embody love. The time is, and always will be, now. Don’t forget; and don’t waste it.
Remember that no matter what you do, life will eventually take back every precious thing it lent to you—the things we borrow eventually come due. Appreciate them. Cherish them. Love them.
Yes, that’s it, isn’t it…
Love them.
I guess that’s the lemonade I’ve been making this week. I hope there was enough sugar in it to combat the bitterness. But even if the mixture isn’t quite perfect, that’s okay. If we didn’t taste something sour every now and again, we wouldn’t be able to recognise what’s sweet, right? So drink up! Maybe you’ll find that whatever burden you’re carrying feels a bit lighter.
I hope so anyway.
Until next time…
Be well and stay on the path, my friends,
- c.d.
Beautiful and raw. I particularly like the last photo of him. He’s precious.
Eloquent and lovely.
(Was interrupted and had to stop and pet Himself...)
Thank you for this piece. Been there and appreciate every word. ♥