Stupid Guilt

For the last two nights two voles have been scratching at the basement window well window. They've eaten all of the weeds growing in the vicinity. And last night... one of them died. The other is now currently curled up next to the dead one, just like I imagine they would be snuggled together in the middle of the night for warmth.

I get that they're vermin. That it's the circle of life. That I'm not really equipped right now to take a tiny escape ladder and free them. But I hate it. The way I hate the idea of hunting.

I had a terrible time sleeping last night, which makes me want to just take a long nap. But I also get that if I make it to 8 p.m. tonight I'll be able to try to get back on a schedule where I'm asleep by 10:30 p.m.
I also need to shower. Maybe I'll feel more like myself afterwards.

But right now, I feel really terrible about the tiny, dead fuzzy thing outside the window... and the doom awaiting his friend.

Happy Easter, Bunny Killer!

So last night I let Lily outside... and suddenly I hear her barking. I figure our neighbor has come outside and startled her because she stops before I can get to the back door.

Then I look out and she's licking something ferociously.

I go out to investigate and it looks like she's got a brown version of a naked mole rat. It's too big for a mole, because it's clearly just been born. (It's eyes are still shut, but it's relatively hairless.) I go inside to get a paper towel to pick it up and throw it away. But X-man notices the commotion and asks what's going on. I explain that Lily had killed an animal and that I'm going to throw it away.

Then I pick it up and the damn thing squeaks. Shit.

"Mom, it's still alive! We have to save it." (Yeah, the apple falls so close that it actually hits the apple tree.) I go inside and google baby bunnies and see a photo of what I've got in the paper towel. There are no puncture wounds but I have really no idea what Lily has done to it except lick it like a popsicle. It's still breathing. I go to the U of I Wildlife rescue page, which really needs to be updated. Because they had no useful information on it. Just a phone number. So I call it, but, of course, it's 7 p.m. and no one is there and they just tell me to call the small animal emergency clinic. I do that and the receptionist (no lie) says, let me connect you and sends me back to the recording that sends me back to the receptionist. Nice, right? The recording did say that they take animals 24 hours a day and to bring them in... X-man, hearing this news insists we go right away, but first I scope out the yard to find  out if there are any more.

Turns out the mama bunny dug her nest in my elevated garden boxes. There was one other baby bunny. It was taken out of the nest by Lily, but left on the ground. It was breathing, too. So I put it with its sibling and off we went. (I want to note that had I found them on my own, I would have taken them out to the field behind my house and let nature take it's course. But my child was with me, and well, he's the kind that would never get over Bambi...)

We got to the animal hospital and the Wildlife person who was there and also doing an intake on another baby bunny with puncture wounds, said the best thing to do was to take it back to our house. I explained that we couldn't safely reconstruct the nest in the same place. So she said to try to put it close but not too far. X-man argued with her. Seriously. "We can't put it outside of the fence. There are wild dogs out there!" (wild dog = coyotes and he's right). She explained that it was the best thing in case the mama bunny came back for them. On the way home, he asked me what would happen if the mama bunny was already dead? I did the circle of life story, which made him feel not at all good about nature, but is true. His reply. "Mom, I know the doctor lady said to do it. But I can't support this. I am not going to help you." And he didn't.

I settled for making a nest 12 feet away on the other side of the gate. I dug down 4 inches and lined the nest with the bunny fir and some garden materials that were in the old nest. Then I laid some softer items on top of them and went to put X-man to bed way too late. He had so politely stuck his head outside in the dark and ask if I was okay out there by myself before I went in.

And even though all the information that was actually useful that I found from a Wildlife Rescue Group in Toronto (go figure, gotta love those helpful Canadians) later, told me not to check on them... I had MacTroll do it when he got home.

The babies were dead, so he took them out to the field. But I couldn't tell X-man that when he got off the bus. "The Mama got them. They're okay."

Yeah, that makes me a big, dirty liar.

What's up?

No, I didn't participate in Walk to School Day. Why? Because when we went to the garage my right front tire was flat because of some random nail. Thankfully, MacTroll swapped cars with me and ran it up to Tire Barn to be swapped.

Yes, I'll get to see my college bestie Womanthatrolls this weekend. But it won't be at Carrie Fisher after all. It'll be at her mother's funeral on Saturday afternoon in Mendota. :-( She passed away at the VA hospital after a very, very long battle with emphysema. She was quite possibly the hardest working woman in all of history, but I know she was one of the best moms.

I took Maya to the vet for her annual check up. Besides having a yeast infection in her ear, she's fine. But I also picked up Nyssa's remains. So, we'll need to add her to the front garden with Riley and Looseyfur this week.

And, I'm sure by now you'll have learned that the chief at The Fruit passed away.

So I'm tired of the death and the crappy weirdness. I'd like it to stop now.

And in protest, I completely gave up meat and am now officially a vegetarian.

It's Been A Long Time

But we're a three cat family for the first time since August 2001.

Today, MacTroll and I euthanized Nyssa. She had been steadily going downhill despite multiple different medical interventions and force feeding. She ended up dying, not so differently than Riley, our dog, who died in June. She had cancer. It messed up her neurological functions. And finally, she developed a mass in a very short time outside of her skin.

She was a sweet cat who slept with our niece when she was three years old, who slept in X-man's baby crib every chance she could (when he was not in it). She liked old people, people who didn't like cats and more importantly, she's the cat who taught my husband how to love animals.

Before Nyssa, MacTroll liked dogs just fine. He was so so on cats (because although Looseyfur was awesome, she did not begin her life with us as a cuddler -- that really only happened when the dementia set in). And Clawdio, well, he only likes me. So, Nyssa was MacTroll's first, and it was also the first time he was home to go through the process with me.

It made it better to not be alone.

This is the worst

Yesterday, during our playdate with some friends, I noticed Riley starting to chew on his paws. After our friends left, I went into the kitchen and made X-man dinner. Then I fed the cats and finally I mixed up Riley's food. Since he was diagnosed with cancer almost a month ago, we found that he was particularly fond of Tur-Duk-En (no lie) from Prairieland Feeds. And well, when your dog is terminal, you let him eat anything he wants. And he turned his nose up at it. After X-man and I got back from the movie, I couldn't find him in any of his normal spots. Instead, he was curled up in a ball at the far end of the laundry room. He's never in the laundry room. He walked outside to pee at 8:30 p.m. last night in a sort of lumber. Then he laid down by the front door. At 10:30 p.m., I had to come down and search for him again, this time he was curled up with is back to the sink in the half bathroom. Again, this isn't a usual spot. I tried with the food. He refused, but he did drink some water. He couldn't get up to go to the bathroom. I gave him his pain medication, since it had been 8 hours since the lower dose was given and went to sleep.

After three really good days, Riley entered a bad period. The cycles are coming faster now, where as when we started to notice things in April they were every two or three weeks. And they're getting more painful.

At 5 a.m. this morning, I got up and tiptoed downstairs. He was under X-man's computer in MacTroll's office. His breathing was labored. He couldn't stand. I went upstairs and got a towel and wrapped it under his hips to support him. He got outside the front door and took a very long pee. I gave him his meds. He refused food and water.

So I called Dr. Mary's office. Then I messaged Quigs and SuperShanna to let them know I was going to need some help with X-man today.

When X-man got up at 8 a.m.  and the workmen showed up to work on our patio, Riley moved from the front door to the living room, and laid down so he could bark a bit at the workman noises. Then when he realized the workmen weren't going away, he managed to lumber himself back to the front hallway to lie down.

He's been there, in that corner, all day, except when I made him pee again around 11 a.m. I was impressed though, that he made it out into the yard without help.

The plan was to take X-man to the Little Gym from 1-4 p.m. and then he could go play at SuperShanna's with Quigs as a back up. I needed him out of the house because at 4 p.m., Dr. Mary is coming to euthanize Riley. I'm trying not to use the words "put him to sleep."

X-man was fine with this, until we got to the Little Gym. Then he didn't want to come inside. Once he figured out it wasn't pirate camp or sports camp -- which were the two he picked to attend. He got grumpy. Then he noticed it was all girls. And he flipped out. I told him he could go in and play with his friend SuperC (his favorite girl) or I could call Quigs and we would work something out, but he couldn't go home with me.

It was too much of a decision. He flew into a blind rage about how he couldn't be there. So I gathered his things to go to Quigs' house. Then he was screaming for Little Gym. I ended up picking up a carseat, water dish, a pair of Keen's and a 45lb struggling 5 year old and taking them out to the car. He kept unbuckling his seat, so I put the childlock on the door, so he couldn't get out and hurt himself, walked around to the other side and climbed into the backseat of the car.

I sat and looked at him and tried to explain that Riley was sick and dying and that he couldn't be there when it happened. He promised to stay up in his room. I said no. He said he needed me more than Riley did. I explained that he didn't. Not today. We got through it somehow in conversation, and he permitted me to buckle him in and take him back to our house. Where I started sobbing as we were pulling into the subdivision. I don't normally cry in front of my kid. The sobbing continued as I searched the house for a cellphone I couldn't locate. When I found it, I texted Quigs, who, being the woman she is, dropped her lunch and came running to get my child.

Then I called my husband. I told him what happened. He was silent at the other end of the phone. And he was asking, what I decided at the time were dumb questions and words that didn't comfort. Because in that situation, what can one do in Illinois from California. I wanted to say a slew of hateful things, but I didn't. He could tell I wanted to say them, because when I'm really angry, I get completely silent. He stopped talking, too. So I hung up. I didn't know what else to do.

I grabbed a box of Kleenex and came downstairs.

"Loosey?" X-man said. "Can you sit and calm down?"

So I sat and calmed down.

Quigs came and collected my child from me. He finally seemed to comprehend that a) he really isn't old enough to see his dog die and b) he really doesn't want to see his mother cry.

I walked over to spend some time with Riley on the floor in the front hallway, but it's impossible to do so without crying, which his eyes tell me isn't very comforting. So I decided to blog about it, how lame is that? I didn't know where else to put it.

Now the big question is, what to do for the next hour and 10 minutes before my beloved Riley dog is dead.

If There are Taxes There Must be Death

On Tuesday, my great Uncle Bud passed away. He was 85 years old and his health had been declining steadily. When my favorite aunt called to tell me her father-in-law passed away, I eyed my calendar. X-man had a birthday party on the schedule at 3 p.m. I was going in for eye surgery on Thursday and didn't know if I'd be okay to drive. So MacTroll was going to have to go with me if I couldn't drive. I knew one of my friends would be fabulous and offer to take X-man. But on the other hand, X-man had been asking a LOT about death over the last year.

So, I took a chance and asked him that night if he'd want to go to the funeral. I explained to him who Uncle Bud was, how he died and that a funeral was a chance to say goodbye to the people that you love and get together to remember the person who died with family.

"Do I get to go by the stones?" X-man asked.

"Stones?"

"The ones with the names on them?"

"Oh, the grave stones!"

"I want to play hide and seek in the graveyard like on Scooby Doo."

"Mmmmmmmm. Let me explain further."

As it turned out, he really wanted to go. He was even willing to wear his "fancy clothes" without complaint. So, we left our house at 7 a.m. this morning. We drove up to Western Springs and made it to the 9:30 a.m. visitation. X-man saw Uncle Bud's remains in the casket at the end of the aisle. He asked questions about his skin color, about how the casket worked, about why everyone was going up to see a dead body, if he wasn't going to talk or move or answer back. These were all good questions. It helped that the church was very kid friendly. They even had activity bags in the back of the church for kids to use that were labeled with age appropriateness. There were also booster seats in case the kids wanted to see more of the service.

We'd done a fair job of covering the technical parts. Things like explaining that the choir and piano were upstairs in the balcony. That the candle that was lit was really a light bulb that looked like fire, but wasn't so the church wouldn't catch fire. We could explain who each of my relatives were and why they were so sad that Bud had passed away. That, yes, just like there was an Anthony in his school, he had a baby cousin named Anthony. The part we hadn't figured he'd have the most questions about was the frequent use of "Our Father" and "Jesus." And little informational sentences whispered into a five year old's ear at the back of the church service only leads to more and more questions about some giant topics.

I thought I was doing fairly well regarding God and Mary and Joseph and Jesus. But he couldn't quite figure out the whole aspect of spirit impregnating a virgin (who was married to someone else) and her giving birth when he knew only people could reproduce with people. Just like before the service started when he asked me about the toy ark and why it had two animals. I told the story, and his reply was, "Mommy, that's made up. That can't be real."

"Why?"

"Because there's not enough room for EVERY animal. There are a lot of birds. And how would one guy feed them all?"

I thought this was a fairly logical question.

But in the sanctuary, he asked a big question. "Is God Dead?"

I took a breath and looked at MacTroll. He nodded his head at me indicating that it was time we started talking about world religions with X-man. We'd been wondering when this was going to happen, because we've been on the whirlwind of what is real and what isn't. Most of the time it's really easy to explain that so far aliens, werewolves, vampires, Handy Manny and The Joker, aren't real.

But with religion, there are so many parts that many, many, many, many people do believe are real. So many variances of how literally they take the Bible or don't, whether or not Heaven takes everyone... or not. Reincarnation. Confession. Vegetarianism. All kinds of different aspects. MacTroll and I always thought we'd share what he and I believe but explain that X-man can believe whatever he wants to believe. That when it comes to spirituality, there's not really a wrong answer. Be an Atheist. Be Jewish. Be Buddhist. It's all fine to us. Just be peaceful and kind and treat everyone like your equal.

I whispered in his ear that some people think he is just a story, but some people do believe he is alive and looking over everyone.

In the end, we were able to grab a quick lunch at McDonald's and hustle back to Champaign for a 3 p.m. birthday party. It was definitely the first birthday party that all three of us had attended in fancy clothes. MacTroll in his suit, me in pantyhose and a skirt and X-man in a collared/button-down shirt. We looked totally out of place, but X-man had a totally good time, and was sad when it was over.

It's Starting

When I was a little girl my neighbor, Dave, died. He was married and was the father of two of my friends. It was my first real memory of human death. We were just kids when it happened, but I very clearly remember my mother talking to my father in the kitchen. She said, "It's going to start happening. We're almost 40." My father's reply was something about how he thought their parents would go first.

Either way, I dismissed it as adult concerns and went on my way to watch Mama's Family reruns in the basement.

I lost all of my grandparents before I turned 25. So my mother's been the oldest of the oldest generation on her side since my last grandfather passed. My father has an uncle and an aunt still living. But in terms of his brothers and sisters, he's the patriarch.

Three months after X-man was born, MacTroll lost a colleague and a friend. He got so drunk that he fell off a balcony in Japan. MacTroll wasn't with him at the time, but he was in Tokyo, so he brought back his friend's cremated body to his family. That was weird and it was a fluke. It was the first time, at 30, MacTroll had ever lost anyone close to him.

Now as I get closer to 35, my friends' parents are starting to pass away in their late 50s, early 60s. I know it happens. No one can help illness. But with each Facebook post of folks passing away, I think more and more about my son, rather than my parents. I know that's strange. But it's what I think about. My family has always operated best with some distance. It used to kill me when I knew other families like Womanthatrolls and CaptainPatrick would be able to coexist as adults within close proximity of their families often peacefully, but mine has issues after 48 hours in the same space. I guess it's just different from family to family.

When I first met MacTroll, I was overjoyed to have a boyfriend who was so smart, fun and loving. I fell for him immediately. I didn't know why, at the time, he was so attracted to me. But almost 20 years later, I get that it was more than just teenage hormones. We understood each other. We shared the same big picture ideas and values. We were able to give each other time and space to be who we are and explore who we want to be. As it was, we both felt that we were left very much alone in our adolescences and yet we had nothing in common with most of the other kids we interacted with. And almost immediately after I found him, I lost the only other person I felt really cared about me, my paternal grandfather. I thought, in my 16-year-old mind, that I just wasn't meant to be loved by more than one person at a time. Obviously, now with X-man in the picture, I know that isn't true. :-)

We consider ourselves very lucky to have found each other. We get up every day and choose each other. It might be the secret of why we've endured. (Who really knows the answer to that? I sure don't.)

On the other hand, I think more, now that we're older, about when the other shoe is going to drop. When is it going to be my turn to update the Facebook status about someone I love? Hell, it'll probably be me that goes first.

Every time X-man brings up death, I repeat the same sentence. "We're born. We live and breathe and then one day, we die. It's just the way life works, or there'd be no room for anyone."

I understand that this is the truth, and I can explain the mechanics. But to really understand death, you have to experience it and sit with it and mourn and scream and cry and laugh. Death is the ultimate letting go as much as it is about forgiveness and love.

To all the people in my life who have loved ones that have passed on or have loved ones who are fighting for their lives. I think of you with great thoughts of love and affection -- every day. More than you know.

What MacTroll Misses When He's Gone

Tonight my son decided to roll up the living room carpet. I didn't notice because I had my head in my file drawer slowly working on getting my inbox under control. Then suddenly I hear, "Mom! What's this?"

And he throws onto my desk a very flat (think roadkill) dead mouse. No lie. I cannot make this shit up.

I scream like a little girl in disgust.

His face freaks out. "Mom, I'm scared. I'm scared. What is that?"

"Dead mouse."

"Why is there a dead mouse in our house?"

Because apparently it managed to use its last bit of mouse strength escaping from our two mouser cats (Maya and Luke) to get under the carpet.

And then it was walked on, played on, vacuumed, etc., for god knows how long.

I sent X-man to the bathroom, where he double washed his hands and then used antibacterial gel. I got a paper towel and tossed mouse pancake into the garbage and hauled it out to the can. Then I came back and sprayed down my desk with Lysol.

I called MacTroll to inform him of the kind of shit he misses never being at home. The joy of effing motherhood.

"You'll just know."

I've never watched someone I love die. 

It's almost happened, but not quite.

I was supposed to visit my grandmother during fall break when she was in the hospital after complications due to her Alzheimer's. Instead, I ended up studying over  break after my mother told me not to go because Nana wouldn't know who I was. It turns out, she died the day I would have been up there.

I was supposed to go home for Thanksgiving four weeks later, but between my grandmother dying and Thanksgiving I got pneumonia and missed a week of school. So I stayed away and studied. My Mom woke up the morning of Thanksgiving and found our family dog, Sandy, dead on the floor. She had congestive heart failure.

I felt somehow disconnected from the deaths because I wasn't there. Similarly, when I was 16, both of my father's parents and a great aunt died in a car accident in North Carolina. See? Disconnected. 

I've been a support system for other people who have lost their loved ones. My favorite sister-in-law lost her father to lung cancer. She picked up the phone and asked for some help to give her Mom a break, MacTroll and I responded and headed out to Baltimore. 

My good friend womanthatrolls lost her father when we were in college. It was terrifying to know there was absolutely no comfort that I could offer her besides sitting on my bed and playing with her hair.

The first semester of college, KTDID lost her uncle. I drove her back to Peoria and went to the funeral. She sat silently in the passenger seat staring out the window of the car between bouts of sobbing. 

I don't believe in God. I don't believe in Heaven. I don't believe there's any kind of plan or order to life. I believe in chaos, which provides no comfort. I believe that if you send out good into the world, someone will eventually benefit from it -- but it probably won't be you. I've known too many shitty things that have happened to really, really good people to believe karma is about the individual.

This week has been a messy week. I've taken a lot of hits and made some important decisions. I started my Monday by vomiting, followed by a flat tire and a bloody nose. It snowed five inches the day of an early class, which was a pain in the ass. I have had a nasty headcold all week, which has made life very unpleasant and robbed me of a lot of energy. My husband has been home 36-48 hours at a time for the last three weeks. And this morning, my 19-year-old cat went to the vet. She's lethargic and sad. 

Tests yesterday show she has a severe urinary tract infection, two kidney stones (one which has passed from the kidney to the bladder) which threw her already crappy  kidneys into failure, which has screwed with her liver and her hyperthyroidism. Plus, she threw up twice the night before last and is dehydrated and constipated. 

We're treating what we can right now with IV fluids, anti-nausea medication and kick ass antibiotics. But the only movement Looseyfur has made is walking the 10 feet from her carrier last night (she stayed in it all day with the door open) to our bed. We carried her to her litterbox both times to pee. They're going to monitor her today until the thyroid numbers come back from the lab. 

What we're looking at is either a cat that's going to use another one of her 9 lives and come back from near death--again-- or a cat who is going into complete organ failure and won't come home with us tonight. X-man, Riley and I said goodbye this morning, just in case. If she goes, she'll be cremated and sprinkled in our yard this spring.

We've been through a lot over the past 10 1/2 years with Looseyfur. She was our first baby. The first decision, after signing a lease on our first apartment in Virginia, that MacTroll and I made together. We had Loosey before we had furniture, before we had actual store bought dishes. She's welcomed 4 other cats, a dog and a baby into our house. 

She's usually full of vigor, but today she can hardly meow. 

Old Friends

My friends Beth and Bob, who live in Philly, had a baby girl, Annika, on May 17. It's their first child and they had been waiting very patiently for her arrival. 

On May 30, Bob's father, Robert, died at age 53. Today is the funeral. And the fact that Annika won't know her paternal grandfather is very much on my mind. 

Since I don't believe in an after-life, death probably seems more desolate than it does for people who do. But what I do like to think, is that the spirit of those we loved lives on inside of each of us. 

That said, I know Bob and Beth are going to be awesome about telling Annika stories about Robert. He's got a colorful history in that 53 years. Some of the stories will have to wait until she is much, much, much older (Polyesters Dance Club!). :-) But they'll be recalled fondly all the same.