Nothing says I’m really feeling my feelings more than when I get in touch with my inner fury over Life’s special gifts of Incomprehensible Demoralization. This is the point where I am wanting to shout at the top of my lungs EAT SHIT AND DIE to the guy when he gets his knickers in a twist for the gazillionth time over the fact he can’t find his gold cross pen or ______WTF fill in the blank ever! It’s always something and mostly it’s EVERYTHING, because someone is categorically unable to feel safe in their body, be on the planet and is the mayor of Borderline Personality Disorder Town. Let’s not even bother trying to live life on life’s terms, let’s have a cow daily over the STUPIDEST, most random things and have a tantrum! Let’s all make major, taking-it-all personally complaints about everything as though nothing can be changed and life is ghastly. Let’s all be Marvin, the paranoid android today!
Then there’s Crazy Cat, who’s deaf, has hyperthyroid, adrenal and kidney overload/failure. She’s stubbornly hanging onto this life, why I don’t know, and lives to torment the shit out of me and the guy. I’m not really sure she’s still on this plane of existence. She’s now in an advanced stage of whacky, ….I don’t know if I wanna pee or eat…wandering. Such a perfect match for Mr. feast AND famine, who constantly wastes canned catfood and raw meat by putting out copious amounts of it. Then it drys out and spoils and Crazy Cat ignores it and is fussy because she knows Crazy Guy will get more and waste more. Sure, I’m very grateful Crazy guy no longer floods our world with Little Friskies, one of the cheapest and most toxic, GMO laden crap catfood that exists. I’ve come to understand famine is a lot more than a physical condition. Emotional famine and the unconsciousness that is invariably mixed up with it is a powerful and cunning adversary.
This morning Crazy Cat and Crazy guy came together for a specially ironic encounter of the urine kind. We have a new catbox, a deeper one with a cover and entry portal. I got it because I’m tired of cleaning up stinking cat piss soaked news papers up to 2x a day. While she’s been using it some, it’s confusing to her and she’s been reluctant to use it. She hovers in the hallway, and sometimes she goes outside instead. Sometimes she steps into it and pees out the entrance onto the newspapers. Crazy guy has no fucking idea what she’s doing during the day when he’s away at work, and when he’s home he rarely pays any attention or cleans the catbox. Then there’s the silent war of the water bowls. He can’t get it through his head that giving cats tons of water is not a good idea, especially in regards to our elderly cat.
This morning Crazy Cat did her back and forth hall hover while Crazy guy was busy not being able to find his pen and bitching about it. Finally he picked her up to bring her out to our kitchen table, and she peed on him, the table and the kitchen floor. Anal retentive germ freakout on top of pen tantrum! Omg, he had to wipe things up for a change.
I’d love to rest in a spiteful “serves you right /wake the fuck up” kind of place, but now I’m seeing a little further into my own part of this mess. What he’s doing with the cat I’ve been doing with him. We have a black cat, Mr. Green. Mr. Green is black and has yellow eyes, came to our door over two years ago looking absolutely horrible. He was greasy, gasping, sick and frantic to eat. We could hear his loud choking breath whenever he came.
I took him on and made a point of feeding him good food as often as I could for over a year. He could hardly believe it. He got way better, looks like a completely different cat. I know he still has something going on with his respiratory tract though it’s been lessened. He has a way of coming up and mieyowing when he wants food, a kind of demanding wail. He hangs with Junior and Orange Pekoe, two semi ferals who will let you pet them a little. But Mr. Green is still emotionally fucked up. He comes around with his yellow eyes and the slightest move sends him off. For awhile I called him Mr. Schitz. We know he’s been spayed, but there is something still wrong with him.
I have found myself projecting that he’s an ungrateful cat and deliberately stomping on the porch to drive him off. I remember setting my sights on simply helping him to get more healthy without trying to change him. Now I see that persecuting an emotionally disturbed being is wrong. Letting an emotionally disturbed being run your life is also wrong. My guess, as though it isn’t obvious, is that I’m emotionally famished being who took up with others run by a famine mindset. I was ignorant, and now I’m being educated the hard way. Don’t know what I’m going to do about that, but I know I have the opportunity to change my relation to it all.
The other day Crazy Cat was lying on top of a desk on a folded up throw. She rose up a little and started looking spazzy, tipping her head in a disoriented posture, like her gyros had gone out. I immediately panicked, thinking she might die, burst into tears and picked her up. I felt terribly guilty and afraid, going deep into grief. After awhile, she came out of it and when I put her on the floor nonchalantly trotted off somewhere, firing on all four legs like nothing had happened. I did the smear on her ear of thyroid medication and thanked all the powers that be her demise wasn’t that moment.
I’m trying to remember that, and spend some time with her daily. I am in no way prepared for her to die. I don’t want her to die, but I don’t want her to suffer. I hate not knowing if she’s ok, not being able to make sure everything that can be done is done for her. I feel guilty for not giving her a bunch of nutritional supplements I’ve bought and a herbal tincture called life gold and living with the guy, allowing his obsessive ways to do harm to her. But I also know I don’t have that much control over anything; not her, not him, not me, not life. I know if I spend time trying to think about and plan, it will do very little good at all. I’m just trying to remember not to forget how precious she is, pissy and dizzy and dying as she is. I love her and I forget I love her, so wrong, so careless of me.