Diary 2019: Seasons Change

9/21/2019: Up at 6 AM and wrote down 2 dreams. Fed Socks; he looks mankier than ever and is dropping clumps of fur. I'm afraid he can't have long, and what time he's got won't be pleasant for either of us. Today would be the best day for writing. I don't have to go anywhere and have plenty of food. I could finish the chapter. Let's see what happens. A rainy, even stormy day predicted.

So I showered, dressed, and did morning devotions (by which I mean prayers and reading the catechism), and opened the bathroom window and door. Swept house. Played WWF and watched Disney shows. Researched the lyrics for the Toymaker's Song in Disney's Babes in Toyland and finally after fifty years know what it says. At 10:30 AM I made ramen with crackers. It rained a bit. Socks is out in the house [by which I meant not penned up in the bathroom]; I noticed he had what looked like blood running out of his eye so I cleaned that up. For the first time in months, with the house open, I can smell the earth and trees, and really hear the crickets and birds. I just looked out the door at 11:15 AM and saw at least 4 hummingirds at the back porch feeder. I really do not feel like writing just yet. There is a tinge of mortality in the air, melancholy but not sad; for everything there is a season.

Noonish Andy came in and said I could have the rest of the chicken salad and the bananas. He was going to mow down in the bottomlands. I ate the chicken with crackers, then got Socks some more cat food. Kam called me to grass the dogs at 5 PM as S&A were off to see a movie.  Had 5 chicken planks and ramen for supper. Dipped in and out of "Logan", and "13 Ghosts" is on tonight. Finished my Rosary at 7:30 PM. No writing at all today, instead took it easy.

 

9/22/2019: Alarm rang at 6 AM, after a night at the Dream Wars; I set it again for 6:30, but got up at 6:20. Straightened the house, got dressed, and out the door by 7 AM, forgetting to cut my nails and write down a card for Gloria if she still wanted to get those shoes over. Went to church, and spent a little time worrying about if I should go to the restroom, but that never happened. A good service. I actually sang loud enough that I could hear my own voice, and didn't hide behind a pillar. Today is the harvest festival. Heard the news that the bell tower was struck by lightning during the storms, and, after being fixed for only 2 weeks, are out of order again. Hopefully it is only the electrical system, which can be fixed without too much trouble. Left out the front door today and shook hands with Fr. Greg. Found an L-wrench on the road on my way over. Got in and triumphantly went to the restroom without an accident. Today is also Bilbo and Frodo's Birthday.

Made my second box of stuffing and ate the rest of my chicken planks with creamy pepper sauce. A little after 12 noon Andy came around and said that Gloria was here. I gave her the candle[?] and took the bag of shoes (also some shirts). When I took them in I saw right away that the shoes were too small. A couple of the shirts look wearable.  Took a nap until almost 3 PM. What do I do with these shoes now? Maybe the shop near Dragons Loot.

This weekend is really going by fast. Just as I was finishing my ramen for supper (7 PM), Andy brings me out 2 leftover Whataburgers (about 1/3 of each) and 2 halves of Quizno sandwiches with about a bite taken out of each. Lovely, but I'm already a bit full. It was raining as well; I think he came out in the only 5 minutes it was actually raining today.

Today my pop culture intake consisted of The Nolstalgia Critic's comparison of The Ten Commandments vs. The Prince of Egypt, slices of Joseph: King of Dreams, Miriam Margoyles on The Graham Norton Show, Episode 1 of Vicious, Ben Shapiro Sunday Special with Kennedy (MTV). No football, no Emmy's. Laid down at about 9 PM, prayed my rosary, then off to sleep.

 

9/23/2019: Up at 6 AM, back from a bout of the Autumnal Dream Wars. Awoke with the idea that all my life I've been a skimmer, not really totally engaged with anything. Not writing, not faith, not any job, not seeking a mate. My life has been getting a meal in a comfy corner, diverting my attention, and basically waiting for it all to end while I play my life by ear. This is a dark, seasonal thought. I have made commitments enough to get a book published (but have you pushed it enough? comes the dark whisper) and join the Church (are you only going through the motions? the whisperer asks. Where are the big FEELINGS?) Shut up, I answer. I've got a Monday to face. There is much to do.

Got dressed, did my devotions, and at 9 AM started the wash; did another load after that of the shirts Gloria gave me. Made the chicken salad for S&A, then cut Kamerom apples. Listened to GGACP [Gilbert Gottfried's Amazing Colossal Podcat]. At 10 AM went and got Kameron up and out the door. He gave me his bean, bacon, and cheese taco. At noon changed loads and had my ramen with the chicken broth and bread. Spent the afternoon with YouTube shows and turned on the AC at 1 PM. Made the broccoli salad and called S when I found there was no cheddar cheese.

Socks is looking VERY poorly and slow today, especially by evening. I fear he is on his way out. My right leg has been very painful today as well. At 4 I grassed the Chihuahuas and fed the outside cats, then made supper (salmon pinwheels and couscous). Took my couscous in and mixed it with ramen. Waited until almost 7 PM for S&A to get here with the cheese. Watched "Miss Hokusai" on Netflix. Went in and cleaned up at 8 PM. Put Socks up for the night and finished the movie. Part of today has been a memory quest about kochkaese, or 'cook cheese'. Time for a rosary, then bed.

But before I could go to bed, Socks died. He had been having a rickety evening laying on the couch; I noticed he had passed some liquid (peepee? drool? stomach stuff?) so I cleaned it up and moved him into the bathroom on a towel. While I was praying the Rosary (and during my first decade, which was with the intention - with the help of Sts. Francis and Gertrude - for, if not healing, and least an easeful passing for him) he made a little call. I went in the bathroom and he seemed to be going out. He had made one last poop on the towel. I cleaned it up and moved him and the towel into the shower. When I checked on him about 30 minutes later he was gone.

What Happened Five Years Ago: The Death of Socks

 

9/23/2019: Socks is looking VERY poorly and slow today, especially by evening. I fear he is on his way out. … Watched "Miss Hokusai" on Netflix. Went in and cleaned up at 8 PM. Put Socks up for the night and finished the movie. ... Time for a rosary, then bed.

But before I could go to bed, Socks died. He had been passing a rickety evening laying on the couch; I noticed he had passed some liquid (peepee? drool? stomach stuff?) so I cleaned it up and moved him into the bathroom on a towel. While I was praying the Rosary (and during my first decade, which was with the intention - with the help of Sts. Francis and Gertrude - for, if not healing, and least an easeful passing for him) he made a little call. I went in the bathroom, and he seemed to be going out. He had made one last poop on the towel. I cleaned it up and moved him and the towel into the shower. When I checked on him about 30 minutes later, he was gone.

9/24/2019: Woke up at about 5 AM. Wrote a poem about Socks and posted pictures of cats on Power-of-Babel in tribute. One tends to think of pets in some way as shields against fate or hostages of fortune, that they'll have to die first before you can go. I always used to joke that Socks would outlive me, that he was never my pet but a fellow inmate. But things seem a bit lonelier just thinking about him lying in there. Now have to break the news to Andy and dispose of the body. And move one almost brand-new litter box. It's now 6:10 AM. Prayers and Catechism.

Went to wait on the kitchen porch at 7:30 AM. Both Susan and Andy were up, and I told them about Socks. They were sad but took it well; he was, after all, 14 years old. I got two kitchen bags: one for Socks until Andy can bury him this evening, and one to empty his litter box.

At 7:20 PM Andy came in and got Socks to bury him; I remembered to take out cat food back to the bin and found myself growing maudlin about throwing away a plastic Ziploc bag I have used for his cat food for years. It is truly the end of an era. Now that even his body is out of the house, things seem even emptier. I guess I could have action figure setups again. He knocked over:

0n January 29, 2013, the Balrog

On June 25, 2015, the big Gandalf.

I keep having this weird reaction, where I realize that I have these little habits and mental spaces that no longer apply now that Socks is gone: I don't have to worry about him running out when I open the bathroom door, I can clean the top of the toilet off without it being covered with cat hair half an hour later. I thought about sweeping up, and then thought how he liked to chew on the straws if I paused. He was here for almost 8 years at least, and that wears a groove in your head. When he came here [into the guest house], I had a job at Gatti's, a bank account, a unit at Grapevine Storage, and all 10 toes. The girls were still in school.

9/25/2019: I still find myself with that hesitation before opening the bathroom door, as if anticipating the need to check the floor for cat poo or having Socks rush out. Just being able to do my business without having to angle around the litter box is a fresh sensation. … Washed out the litter box and moved it out to the bin piles so I can shower. … 9/26/2019: Took the cat box [the pen that had his bed] out to the garage.

The Fall of Socks

 [I had barely started on the next chapter of LOTR when I had to do an exhausting chore between 9 and 10 AM. I don't think I have the time or energy to finish today; instead, here is an old 'biographical' poem.]

Socks 

The first day of fall

He fell

I was free again

I mouthed

A bitter foretaste

Of mortal

Parting on my tongue

 

I had tried to make him

Comfortable

Stroked his thinning fur

Felt bones under skin

Washed his rheumy eyes

Yellow pus and once

A bloody tear

 

Slowly the machine

Wound down

Over the days

I had worried

Told his real owners

Heard, well, he was old

Nothing to be done

He might last a while yet

But I knew

 

I think of him

At their house

In the pride of life

Curiously questing

The lesson of the hot stove

As I cooked

And the annoyance I felt

When he was moved

In house with me

Just as I was free

Of Shadow (another inmate)

 

He tipped over

A treasured toy

Twice

Loosened its limbs

Knocked off head and tail

It will never be the same

But here it is

And he is gone

 

For years I cleaned his box

Fed him twice a day

Cursed when I stepped

In misplaced shit

Or unexpected vomit

Muttered as I moved

That box out of bathroom

Before I could shower

 

But there were days

(He was never my cat)

When he’d curl in my lap

Look at me with innocent eyes

Go to sleep

With animal acceptance

Of trust and warmth

And one couldn’t help

But scratch his ears  

 

 

--Sept. 24, 2019