Sketching, and the mysterious Long Tails

It's difficult for me to fill a sketchbook or notebook, and yet I LOVE good quality, unusual stationery. This means I have a few notebooks (mostly little ones) knocking around, barely touched. I know of at least two fellow bloggy friends who have the same weakness :)

Sometimes it is an inexpensive little thing to get in the name of retail therapy. I had a go at making a few notebooks myself a few years ago. Bob T Bear has filled one of these with the addresses of his blog friends. He uses it for his Xmas card list. An 8inch Bear is therefore better than me at filling notebooks.

I mention it today because this week I have picked up a lovely Moleskin sketchbook that I bought last February when I began (but failed to finish- again! There, see?!) an online portrait course. Unsurprisingly it had only about 8 pages used in it. One thing I had recorded was Scooter's passing. I stuck in a small embroidered piece of aida next to that page. It has "love" written on it, with the "L" as a decorated, illuminated letter. I left the book in the shelf after that.

I'm using it again now. A few sketches, thoughts. And when I've been tearful and upset I've written how I feel, and written TO Scooter too.

It is already quite nice to look back over pages, even the sad ones. So I hope I can keep it up. Well, I suppose I shall keep it up for as long as I need it, and that maybe that's why these books end up unfilled.

Am I the only one that has books with 90% unused pages in them??!!!

I've dug out a couple of books for inspiration too. One is filled with 1000 photo's of journal pages. The other is about wet-on-wet watercolour. I'd like to paint some Long-Tailed-Tits, a beautiful, cute faced little bird that I associate with Scooter. At big milestones in his illness, that last summer, they came to our garden and settled in the tree above him.

Just 5 days before he passed, I was walking back from the shop with some treats for him. It had not entered my mind that I was so close to losing him. As I walked I cut through a little tree-lined alleyway, and suddenly heard the song of the Long Tails. It was a treat, at first, to see them again. I stopped to watch them, smiling. It was lovely. As I walked on a feeling of panic and dread came over me, so slowly. By the time I was home I had already formed the thought that they had returned to warn me, ME- as it was not in the garden with Scooter this time - that his time was coming.

Some weeks later, Luvbug and I were talking about a strange incident with the Long Tails, when they had gathered with their young in the tree over where Scooter lay sleeping, recovering from a seizure. I was kneeling next to him, with a shawl over him to keep him warm. I thought I was losing him then and there. I looked up at the birds in a low branch over us. "Look, Scooter!" I whispered, "Look; little angels have come, to see if you're ok..."

This was the first strange occurrence with them, and the eve of a very bad day of seizures for Scooter. It was during the following week that I figured out it was low blood sugar that caused the seizures, and got the vet to confirm it with a blood test. From then on, we fed him little and often, -every few hours, even through the night- and I added honey to his water. He enjoyed the summer, staying quite strong for another 6 or 7 weeks....

Anyway, when we were remembering this, we said, "But why Long Tailed Tits?" and it suddenly hit me- Why, because he has such a long tail too! Even vets had commented on it. "Is this tail ever coming to an end?" one said, as he came out of his box.

So anyway..... journalling to get things out, and maybe a colour wash with the Long Tails.... hope so.

**** *** **** *** **** ***

Love, tea & cake, Helena

Don't want the spring, or the summer any more...

Spring usually makes me feel better: sunshine, brighter evenings. Today I saw my first bee and butterfly of the year. The garden was inviting, but I couldn't go out, couldn't bear to see the bench without my little friend sunbathing there. Don't know how to get through the sunny days now. I mowed the front lawn but feel like the back garden can go to hell now.

Some days are ok, others I can't stop crying.

**** *** **** *** **** ***

Love, tea & cake,  
Helena

"Eulogy"

Found this this evening...

THE EULOGY 

Look not where I was 

For I am not there 

 My spirit is free 

I am everywhere

In the air that you breathe 

In the sounds that you hear 

Don't cry for me Mom 

My spirit is near 

I'll watch for you 

From the other side

I'll be the one running 

New friends by my side 

Smile at my memory 

Remember in your heart 

This isn't the end 

It's a brand new start 

By: Carol Kufner 

 © Copyright Carol Kufner.

**** *** **** *** **** ***
Love and miss him so much...... crying lots tonight.

Love, tea & cake,  
Helena

Another milestone

3 months, exactly, today. Monday, 17th September....... Monday, 17th December. 

Scooter, I miss you like the birds miss the leaves. 

I read that you can literally die from a broken heart. Look it up; something to do with weakening of the walls of the heart. It can be caused by grief, stress. It's why one spouse's death sometimes follows very quickly after the other. 

I cannot kill myself. The mess it would leave behind, I can't do it. So. I am willing myself to die. I am willing my heart to fail.

Yesterday I did a little gardening. Trimmed a few things, cut back some deadwood. A robin was singing very loudly. He's often around. He would sing when I sat with Scooter on his bench. He was singing nearby on the morning we buried him. 

I stopped what I was doing and sat down, and listened. In my mind, I told him that he sang beautifully. He came nearer and ate some suet I'd thrown about for him. After he'd gone I just sat in the quiet. In one hand I had the bag of cuttings. In the other were the secateurs. I wondered if they would be sharp enough to take the vein in my neck. I couldn't even remember the name of it. My head is on such a low gear lately. It was a while before I remembered; the jugular. Yes, that's it. Would it be enough? A quick stab. 

I thought of Luvbug. He had gone to the shops to get me some chocolate and some painkillers, and more cold remedies for himself. I pictured coming back to find my body on the ground, and all the blood. No. Can't do it, see. Can't scar him like that. He doesn't deserve that.

So I sit up late nights, hoping to hear Scooter. I hear him less and less now. It's like losing him again.  

Farewell, my friend. Go on your way if you must. Come see me when you can, promise me, come by sometime.

Meanwhile, nothing holds any light any more. 
It's as though the world is no longer 3D.
All is flat. All meaningless.
  
Life goes on, someone said to me. Ah yes, it does. It plods on. And I am doing my **best** to go along with things day to day. Be OK on the outside. Automatic pilot. But on the inside, I have gone.

Is it really two years?

Our last photo together, before we left for the vet......

I came across this series of photo's, taken a couple of weeks before. Scooter knew, I think, that his sister was leaving.....

 FLUFFY

gorgeous PRINCESS of cats

Wednesday March 23rd 1993 around 10am

to

Monday December 13th 2010 around 9.30am

You of the fluffy toes, the toe fur never trimmed, all cheesy,

you batted at your siblings as they walked under your chair and then looked like butter wouldn't melt in your mouth,

you stalked invisible assassins in paper bags,

and hugged behind my knees, under the sheets- sshhh! 

you played with the tinsel,

you lay belly up under the Christmas tree, cooing up at the twinkling lights.

Soft as the snowflakes you bit out of the air,

 if snow could ever be warm and lovely.

Rest in peace, in love, fun and sunshine, 

my beautiful sweetpea.

And so. 2 years for sweet Fluffy.
12 weeks, 3 days for Scooter.
Still crying every day.
Hard to believe there was ever a time I wasn't grieving.

Withdrawal, recovery, & fading in and out.

Sorry for absence. 

Strange times. Been coming off lorazepam, which had made me 'manic', or the up side zig zag of bipolar. 'Up' doesn't mean happy.

Don't remember much of last weekend or beginning of last week. Had to check camera, phone, etc. to recap what I'd said/done.

I was put on lorazepam August 2011. It's part anti-anxiety, part anti-psychotic, added to my usual antidepressant because that wasn't helping too much any more. Well this September the psych-doc I saw took me off it as I was so low she said, it couldn't be working any more. Instead she put me on one called busiperone. I felt this was helping, but it sent my heartbeat v high. A week 1/2 ago I rang my GP worried about it as my resting heartbeat was 125 (this was while lying on the sofa watching TV!). She said stop taking it, go back on Lorazepam, and as you're in such a state, go on 3 a day. 

Well I didn't go to 3 a day. 2 was enough to send me manic.
K says when we went for a woodland walk last Sunday I gathered coloured leaves and twigs for Scooter's grave- yes, I can see I've put them on his spot- so? Ah, he said, but do you remember why you were originally collecting twigs? ----- apparently I was looking for sharp twigs to cut my wrist secretly while walking through the woods, so that the 'blood would trickle down but no one would notice'. OMG I have no memory or this at all. 

Tons of other stuff I don't remember. He guarded it from mum. I am so lucky to have a partner so patient with my weirdness.

And so...... today will be 9 weeks since Scooter died. Yes, I still cry every day. 

I am hearing him less :( 

Calmer though. 

I think the storm has passed. Now I'm in 'after the storm'. Which is still ... well you know. 
 
Friend from school, Jo, and her daughter came up today and it was a good day. But still sometimes there are these moments when I feel myself almost fading away, or maybe it is everything else that fades. It's like I'm watching a movie, I'm not in it. Or when they do one of those camera shots where you are pulled right back from the action. 
Suddenly everything goes away, and I'm left sitting there, looking like I'm listening, smiling, but inside, I'm sitting on a stone in an empty clearing, miles from everyone, just their faint voices, faint noises of things around them. Then I'm pulled back into the room and try to carry on as though nothing happened. 

If I start to sink, I know that it'll be harder and harder to return from that rock. Know what I mean?

**** *** **** *** **** ***

Love, tea & cake,  
Helena

Time....

I first heard this song when I was little, and dad was home, playing a Louis Armstrong album full whack. Only Dad had access to the record player, and as he was away in the Navy most of the time, this meant it didn't get used much. I don't know if the prohibition came from him, or if mum was just terrified of the repercussions should we scratch one of the records. But it was out of bounds. Hence, musical memories are wrapped up with my dad. 

Anyway. THIS one is a favourite. 
But.... this version isn't Louis Armstrong. 
Listen to it first, and see if you can guess who it is. 
If you've seen the movie The Jacket, you'll have come across it before. 
Answer at the foot of this post. 
Enjoy.......... 


Meanwhile..........


It has been five weeks since Scooter passed...

I have never been this long without holding him.
I still cry EVERY DAY.
Like I said before, the crying doesn't lessen, it goes deeper, into big sobs.

I am up most nights because I don't want to let it out too much during the day...

...I wrote a lot more here but deleted it. You don't need ot be reading about all that....

Up till now it's been like Scooter is away. At the vet's, maybe. Or perhaps he is living elsewhere. The missing part has been painful, but accompanied by a sense that it will end. Suddenly it has hit me that it won't end. That this is it, and I can't hold him any more, or give him chinny rubs, or cuddle and scrunch him out of a grump into a reluctant, but growing, purr.
My baby's gone.
His absence is like a shadow with no object to cast it. It's physical, but untouchable. 

I'm consulting a pet bereavement counseller. Should hear in the next week or so. I'll post again after that. 

**** *** **** *** **** ***

**PS... did you get it? It was Iggy Pop singing the song ;)**

OK so which of these three groups do you fall into now then?

(1)- yeah I knew that

(2)- OMG Iggy Pop???? Really???? Good grief! Well, well, well....

(3)- Who?

**** *** **** *** **** ***

Love, tea & cake,  
Helena 

Still here, but....

Hard to believe, but this my 500th post.

The last few weeks have been very hard. Things still are. I cry every day. EVERY day. This seems to be getting worse, not better, as I continue through firsts-

first time home to catless house,
first time to the supermarket without going into the pet aisle,
first storm without him there, looking out, watching,
first time hanging out the washing without him coming to 'help' by sitting on my feet,
first time cutting the grass, without worrying about where he was, hiding from the noise machine,
first time vacuuming the living room, knowing that I was removing his hair, never to be replaced,
first time we took a day trip out, out for more than a couple of hours, as we didn't have to have someone stay in with him always any more.....

-firsts are a killer.

Another automatic stabbing machine is the instinct:

the instinct to look at the window as I turn into the street, to see if he is there waiting,
the instinct to want to call out 'hello? I'm back!' as I come in the door,
the instinct to think 'I'll just check on him before I go' before going out,
the instinct to look up when a tv ad mentions 'new' about cat food.....

automatic thoughts, that override the knowledge that he's gone- instincts that show how much our world was built around him.... now built around an empty space.


The crying gets worse, as it sinks and sinks and comes up from a deeper and deeper place.
I have never mourned as deeply for anyone, certainly no human.

He was my last connection to the rest of his family; he had his mama-cat's big yellow eyes. He grew big, like his sisters and brothers grew big. His black fur was soft, warm, and glistened in the sun, like theirs all did. It's like I have lost them all, all over again, and all the grief for all that loss has come to the surface in a great wave.

Sometimes I have honestly thought, I would rather be dead, at least then I would know for sure if he were still there. Then I tell myself that Luvbug would cry, and mum would get worse, and I haul myself back to the land of the living.

*But really, if I could be excused, I would rather not be here at all. I just know that I can't be excused.*

My arms ache sometimes, they actually physically ache, as though they independently long for him.

I have ordered this print from Etsy seller watercolourqueen-

This is how I would hold him when he was coming out of a seizure, or when the hypo-attack threw him into twitches and jerks that scared him so, sometimes with temporary blindness~ I would hold him gently, no hard restraint. He'd hold on and tuck his head under my chin. I knew he was calming down when the breathing slowed and the purrs came, I knew he'd come out of it completely when he wanted to get down.

I've tried to understand with logic why this is so hard and I wonder if it is this-

~that I can't let go of the pain because it is my link with his last day here. If I go a day without the pain and tears, then the link is broken. No amount of saying 'he would not want this' alters that. It's like I would rather have the pain than more distance from him. 

I am now tucked up in bed. I had an early night yesterday too. I think a recent bad throat is becoming a cold :( and I haven't been sleeping properly for months, so there are hours to catch up.


I don't know whether to continue this blog, or to open a new one for some arty stuff later on, and leave this one here..... I don't know.

Take care, all, and please take care of your animal friends.
H

For Scooter.

Writing is meant to help.

So I just wrote this.

For Scooter

That last night
you slept on my windowsill,
snug on a cushion of foam and fur.
Hot water bottle at your back,
to guard you from the cold
of the glass.

That last day
you stayed there,
stretched long and soft in the late summer sun,
till, too warm, you
climbed down half way,
then cried.
(Just a little cry,
as you paused and looked at me,
there to help you balance if you fell.)

I held you,
guided you down,
took your weight.
You staggered a little,
and looked around for somewhere to lay;
on a pillow - too soft;
on a blanket - too warm;
no, no need for luxury or choice now.
Settled, then -mostly fallen-
on a shaded patch of floor.
Aware of our attentions,
but no longer greeting them,
you rested, dazed and dozing...

You did not hear the vet arrive,
nor the young assistant -so full of life-
when I let them in and led them to you.

"This doesn't look good," he said.

I'm sorry I let him wake you,
that should have been me.
It should have been me that lifted you, held you,
at least at first.
Instead, what did I do?
What did you see me rush to?
-I blocked the routes of your escape,
with boxes, books and bags.
I'd seen you eye the corner behind the curtain, you see.
Forgive me.
I know you were not ready.

Now, deep in autumn soil you lay,
with your sisters near you.
A blanket, 
a pillowslip,
a few favourite toys.
I spent so many years keeping you warm,
I cannot bear the coldness of the soil surrounding you.

Wept, I have wept a hundred thousand tears.
I'd made a bargain, you see,
with whatever it is that holds the Good, the Love, the Life together in the universe;
Take a year off what's due to be my lot,
I said,
and give it to him;
Take his pain, his weariness, his cancer,
and give it to me.
It seems that nothing was there to listen,
or, if hearing,
was powerless or cruel.

You left so many things behind, you know.
In every room I see you.
Combs, boxes, blankets and beds bought on special days,
Food bowls, water bowls,
the rug known to be 'yours'.
Toys and packets of catnip,
cushions for in and out of doors.

It's as though 
you've just nipped out
- be back in a minute, mum!

Little by little 
I part with part of your life.
I cover the catflap
to stop the wind from teasing me.

I light candles on your grave each night
and buy flowers to plant there.
I don't know what else to do,
except to reach down through the mud and stones and touch you again
- that way lies madness.

They tell me that you wouldn't have felt betrayed.
They say that you let go with ease
and that this was a gift I gave you.
If so, it is a costly one.
I long to hold you, hear you purr,
and brush your chin the way you loved.
But all is gone now.
My own hands have put these things away now, out of reach.

My shattered heart will heal,
they say,
I'll remember you with smiles
one day.
I hope you do the same for me,
If only, somewhere, 
you still "Be"...........

Mewsings...

I came across this in a book of kitty quotes today:

Cats As Teachers

We have learned many things from living with our cats. Some lessons are directives that we would be wise to follow:
- Live a rhythmic life
- Sit and savour the present moment
- Gaze intently
- Stretch often
- Keep out of harm's way
- Take care of your family
- Be independent, but don't be afraid of being dependent on others
- Cherish your wildness, even if no-one else does
-When you want something, be persistent
- When someone pays attention to you, respond with affection
- If you are embarrassed, turn your back on the situation and get on with your life
- Enjoy small treats
- Keep yourself clean
- Take a nap when you need one, and try to relax more.

Frederic & Mary Ann Brussat

Good, isn't it? 
If you live with a cat, are there any more you can add to the list?  
I might add "there's nothing wrong with hiding away from the world for a little while, if you're afraid or upset"....

 **** *** **** *** **** ***

THANK YOU, everyone, for the dozens of messages over the last few posts......... Luvbug, Mum and I have been very touched and helped by so much concern, and that thought that people far away would take the time to try to offer comfort. You have been an enormous help.

 **** *** **** *** **** ***

We took Scooter's food to the cat rescue centre a mile or two from us. Whilst there, they invited us to view the cats up for adoption. I explained we weren't going to adopt, but decided to visit.

There were a few that looked just like Scoot, at different stages of his life. A 6 month old kitty Scoot, with glowing eyes, curious and friendly; a shy, adult Scoot, nervously peeping out of a box; an older black cat, fast asleep, curled up with his tail wrapped round...... it was strangely comforting. Like looking into his eyes again. Like saying hello again. I'd have thought it would have upset me. Luvbug was concerned. But it didn't. It made me feel warm inside again.

**** *** **** *** **** ***

Today it became a week since he passed. About half an hour before the 'weekaversary', I noticed the clock and my stomach turned, remembering last week at that time, the vet arriving, the things that followed.

We've bought flowers for Scooter's spot, and also some top soil and flowers for his poo patch(!)
I've found a large stone that I plan to paint with something for him and Fluffy, to mark where they lie now (Figs already has a cast iron little curled up cat statue). 

I did order a lovely bronzed cat figurine for the purpose, but when it arrived today, I decided it was far to nice to leave outside, and so it now sits by the fire where one of his water bowls used to be.
Here's a picture of it. It measures about 6 inches high:

I was particular about getting one with a LONG tail. Vets commented about the length of his tail. And I like the way one of the paws is slightly curled. And as for the expression, well that is how he looked as he squinted into the setting sun..........

We also bought a cuddly Scootercat for Mum. I told her, when you miss him, cuddle this one:

She loves it. She carried it home in her bag, with the head sticking out over the top and said it would live on her bed between two bears. She spent the evening posing it into different ways that Scooter had sat and lay :)

**** *** **** *** **** ***

If you have lost a furrend, was there anything you did that helped you afterwards? Is it just time that helps? I've just this evening read some advice that I should write down his story. Even just one sheet of paper. Apparently it's quite cathartic. But I'm not up to that yet.

The doc has prescribed me something to take for the next few weeks. I think it's helping a wee bit.......but I have run out of tissues... 

Helena

Thank you, Karla, (Miss Peach's momma) for this lovely tribute. I love to think of him free and happy like this.

 ********************************

Everyone says I did a kind thing, but I am raw inside from the thought that he was a little scared at the last, and that maybe he thought, why are you doing this, mum? what did I do wrong?
Again now I am in tears,.
Only time will stop the raging thoughts that I let him down.
It might never take away the loss, the space left or the missing him, but I hope at least in time I can feel assured that he didn't think I was hurting him or wanting him to go.

I miss him so, so much. I have slept downstairs to be near him in case he needed me these last 5 months and still can't sleep upstairs till at least 5am..... I hear things and wonder if it is him, or am I just hallucinating, as I do when I am stressed....

Figs, Fluffy and Scooter lie side by side in the garden now, and I have bought windproof candle holders for them, and so each night there are 3 lights in my garden, one for each cat.... the brother and 2 sisters..... I cannot bear to think of him in such cold, cold soil. Kevin says, he isn't there, it isn't him.... but it won't go in. It's in my head, but not my heart. Only fear of descending into complete and utter madness stops me from tearing away at the soil to reach him...........I used to talk to him about everything...........now all I can say to my beloved Scooby is to ask him to forgive me...... I feel he is lost and confused somewhere..