Home Is Where The Cat Is

This post almost didn’t happen. As I was in the thick of a personal emergency I kept thinking, what will I write in my blog tomorrow?

Sorry, no post today… We had an emergency… Be back soon. If I can function. 

The day started out busy, we sent the teenager on the early train to his friend’s for a long weekend out of state, a locksmith came first thing to change the locks, a painter was on his way to give us an estimate, along with carpet cleaners who were going to remove the film of filth our movers left on it last week.

The new house to-do list is quite long. I am stretching it out, but getting the the upstairs carpets cleaned was a priority – mostly because it’s not our carpet – we rent.

After the arduous task of moving all of the furniture and closet items I possibly could to expose the carpet – the carpet cleaner arrived, giant hoses in hand trailing miles behind him, down two flights of stairs to his running truck outside.

IMG_1517So far this all seems benign. And in the great scheme of things maybe it is. But it also isn’t. Because for a few long hours in the midst of everything I thought my little cat escaped our new home and ran into the big world – gone forever. It nearly killed me.

There are certain beings in our lives who are part of our family as if they are human, who we hold in our hearts and feel profound love. My cats are those beings to me.

Some would say, ridiculous, it’s only a cat, get over it. But that person may not have experienced the unconditional love of a pet. Ever heard the phrase, pets are people too?

I’m not a novice when it comes to protecting my indoor cats from escaping when workmen enter the house. I’m a mama bear – firmly telling them that we have two cats that cannot under any circumstances go outside. I fiercely protect my fur babies because I love and adore them. Maybe unreasonably so. Yes, I’m pretty sure I’m a cat lady.

cat copyBut when we saw her blur of fur race by at lightening speed so fast that we didn’t even see where she went, I panicked. The doors were open because of the big carpet-cleaning hoses. Her unplanned escape was inevitable, while the other cat hid under the bed.

My reaction to her disappearance began as a quiet panic, that quickly escalated into an uncontrollable sobbing – blubbering – whimpering – short of breath kind of crying where you can only get squeak sounds out in between the gasps for air. Not to mention she was stuck under the furnace last week when the movers were here and we thought we lost her then too.

IMG_0809I have had so much heavy, continual trauma in my life and especially over the last few years and even throughout our entire recent move that I just could not emotionally tolerate losing the kitty that snuggles with me night and day, rarely leaves my side, and next to my husband is my mainstay of support. She’s like my secret bestie, my shadow, my sidekick. We are truly bonded.

I’ll spare the conversation about cosmic connection – like maybe my cat is holding the reincarnated soul of someone close to me from lifetimes past – who knows. But I know that we can become quite attached to our pets, and vice versa.

This is about reaction to loss. Everyone responds differently, and I’m not sure there is a way to predict how we will react in any given situation. There are way too many factors – from who or what, how, when, where, why – what our circumstances are or were, what we can or can’t withstand, so many variables contribute to our reactions. Our reaction to loss is organic, it comes from deep inside having a life or span or cycle of its own that we must not only allow, but also honor.

IMG_2251 copyThe carpet cleaner guy and I turned the house upside down looking for her. We lay on the wet carpets to see every low-lying crevice, nook and cranny. We combed the bushes outside, crawled through the mulch to look under porches, searched every nearby open garage. I called the microchip company who activated her search. Animal control was on their way because they can scan a two-mile radius with the microchip technology.

Three hours of deeply intense upset later, I saw my cat’s little head pop up from behind the toaster in the corner of the kitchen. It’s such a tiny space, invisible to the naked eye, I would have never dreamed to look there. That started a whole different kind of crying. Reaction to relief.

We’ll save that post for another day. I’m off to pet my cat.

141203.kitties1a copy

2 thoughts on “Home Is Where The Cat Is

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