It’s 1:30 AM Monday morning and I can’t sleep.
I’m a mess tonight emotionally.
The last few days have been bad, leading to now. After tossing and turning, bawling in my bed, screaming in tears, I had to do something, so I got up to write.
Saturday I had to bury another friend. I’m sick of it. I still haven’t gotten over the death of Shelby, the most wonderful cat that could ever be part of a person’s life.
About 17 years ago, my ex and I opened our door one morning to find a thick-furred female cat outside, wanting to come in. A few weeks later she gave birth to three beautiful kittens in our bathroom. We found a home for her and for one of the kittens, a male. The two females, both a tortoiseshell and a calico, we kept.
The calico we named, appropriately, “Callie.”
She was a real cuddle muffin. She always wanted to play, and when she chased string, she was fast and furious. She would always sit on a book you were reading, wanting to be petted. She climb onto your shoulder while you were sitting at the computer and would fall asleep. She’d butt her head against yours to rub you and make contact with you.
Her purr was so incredibly loud and wonderful.
She had a stroke recently. She was old, and her body was failing. We took her to the vet the week before last, and the vet said she would recover if we gave her potassium and thyroid pills. The vet was a good vet, but she made a mistake. Instead of recovering, Callie got worse. Her back legs started giving out, and three days ago she couldn’t walk at all anymore.
It was clear she was dying. Friday the vet confirmed that a blood clot had caused her legs to fail.
Callie clearly was ready to go to her next life. I spent Saturday morning holding her close, playing with her a last time, letting her sleep in my arms. She purred and purred, loving every touch of my fingers along her cheeks and ears.
We took her to the vet that morning. Callie normally hated car trips and the vet’s office. That morning, she was peaceful and curious. She curled up in my ex’s lap, and was purring as the vet gave her the fatal injection. Callie then gently fell into an everlasting sleep.
None of us could imagine a better way to go to our next life.
I buried her in my ex’s back yard that afternoon. I had to pour boiling water to soften the frozen ground so I could dig the grave. Afterward, the mud was sticking to every bit of my clothing.
Things were stressed at my ex’s all day, as you can imagine. At one point I cracked. My daughter put her sweater down on my keys. When I went to get something out of my car, I couldn’t find them. I frantically searched the house for more than an hour. My ex has a spare of my car key, so I got in my car and went through it top to bottom. I scoured the back yard with a flashlight to see if my keys fell out of my pocket into a snow bank. I couldn’t take it. I was afraid I’d never find my keys again. I became afraid my Master would punish me horribly and lose trust in me for losing his keys. I couldn’t think straight. I collapsed into a corner of the room near the front door and started biting my arm very hard. I used to do that a lot during my year of hell, the period of depression I went through last year, but I haven’t bitten myself in a long time. But I bit myself on Sunday, again and again, hard enough to draw blood. When by chance I moved my daughter’s sweater and found my keys, I still felt awful. It took me a long time to get over it all.
Basically, Saturday sucked.
I found out from my ex about Callie’s condition Friday night while I was at the other slave’s house. Needless to say, it put a serious damper on the evening. Another slave and her Master had come over that night, and we were all planning to stay up late and have fun, with the slaves pampering the Masters and goofing around among ourselves. I had brought everything with plans to spend the night. The slave there made a wonderful dinner of beef stew. I could hardly taste it. I couldn’t enjoy the evening anymore. I wound up going home.
I have to admit, I don’t think I really trust the Master of that house. It’s hard to say exactly why. But he seems to have a mean streak. He smiles in a mean way. His slave told me that he hasn’t had sex with her in months, but he explicitly forbids her from masturbating, saying that her only satisfaction will come from him. He’s being considered for a three-year contract that would cause them to be uprooted and move to New York, and she hates the idea, but he’s explicitly forbidden her from asking him anything about the details of the contract. She said during dinner, desperate to talk to anybody, that her Master pushes her away at night when she tries to touch him in bed. As expected, he wasn’t happy that she aired his dirty laundry like that, but I could see the need in her eyes to express her thoughts. Later, she said she had to say it then because he wouldn’t let her talk about such things when they were alone.
But that’s all one sided. I only have her view on things. And yet, I can see the way he looks at her. I can see his expressions. The way his eyes move. His non-verbal body language. I don’t really trust him.
So even before I got the news about Callie, the day hadn’t been that fun at the slave’s house because of her problems with her Master.
The day before, Thursday, was one of the worst days I’ve had with my kids in a very long time. As I’ve indicated in previous post, we’ve been having wonderful times together and building up a tight bond. Thursday they seemed determined to break me emotionally. They taunted me and flat-out refused to do as I said. The simplest homework assignment was a nightmare to get them to do. I was tense and nervous the whole time I was with them. Something was out of kilter, left of center in a bad way.
And the day before, when I went to see my former Mistress, wasn’t great. After I dropped Master and M’Lady off at the airport, I drove to Mistress’s house, but a snowstorm hit just as I arrived. Not only that, but Mistress and I didn’t really hit it off that night. I didn’t feel any spark with her anymore. I enjoyed being with her, but I couldn’t sense the attraction we used to share so strongly. So when I announced I had to leave early because of the weather, we both simply agreed it was the thing to do, and without even a kiss goodbye she bid me on my way.
And then today. Sucky day. Master and M’Lady gave me a list of things to do, and I didn’t do them all, and I tried to catch up as much as possible today – without success. They expected me to do a lot of household chores with them out of the way, but I’m more behind than ever. Master wanted me to write an outline for my historical slavery presentation, but I didn’t yet. I was supposed to clean off the ton of unneeded files on my computer that’s clogging up the nightly backups. I didn’t yet.
And they got me a copy of the movie, “Up,” which I’ve heard is fantastic, and Master recommended I watch it while they were gone.
I spent almost four hours trying to watch the movie. Four horribly frustrating hours shot to hell.
Master has a cabinet bank of two DVD players, two TiVo’s, a stereo, a TV cable box and a Wii. They’re all controlled by one very complicatedly programmed controller. He left me instructions on how to play DVDs. I did something wrong, and the more I tried to fix things, the worse I got, and the more desperate I became. At one point, I tried to reset the TV and wound up turning off the powerstrip where everything was attached.
I told Master on the phone, and he was rather annoyed. I bothered him in Las Vegas to get him concerned about something I messed up that he can’t do anything about until he returns. I felt horrible, and I’m afraid of his wrath when he comes back. I feel like total shit.
Afterward, I took the movie upstairs, thinking to watch it on my computer. The damn movie disk doesn’t have a menu or English subtitles. I’m hard of hearing, and I have to have subtitles. The TV downstairs would have had subtitles, but my computer doesn’t. I tried everything, downloading more advanced DVD players and downloading subtitle files for “Up.” Nothing worked.
So, after spending almost four hours trying in vain to watch a movie, time that I desperately needed to catch up on my chores, I lost it a bit. I screamed into my pillow and cried for a very long time. Finally I decided to get up and write.
I hate technology sometimes. Really, truly hate it.
I had high hopes for this week. I thought I’d have some time for a bit of freedom in Master’s absence.
The week was fucking awful.
I wanted a break from the same old routine. I got a break, and I was broken in the process.
Master and M’Lady will be back this evening. I both long for them and dread their reaction to my failures.
Such is the life of a slave.
La kajira.
Showing posts with label death. Show all posts
Showing posts with label death. Show all posts
Monday, January 11, 2010
Sunday, December 20, 2009
Day 135 - On the Death of One of My Dearest Friends, at the Hands of Me and My Ex, to End Her Suffering
One of the best friends I’ve ever had died two days ago.
And my ex and I killed her.
Her name was Shelby. To say she was a cat seems like it’s not enough. She was truly the best cat in the world. She represented what all other cats should strive to be.
She was as much a person as you or I or anybody else could be.
She was incredibly intelligent, and mindful, and always wanted to know what my ex and I were doing during the almost 18 years that she lived with us. And if she didn’t approve what she saw, she would very vocally let us know.
She owned us. We were her pets and her children.
And she was our daughter.
We were all family, deeply and closely and with intense love.
And she’s dead now. And reality doesn’t seem like it’s right anymore. It seems like everything is skewed. Like nothing makes sense, like nothing means anything anymore.
Her health began deteriorating a couple of months ago, and during the last week we noticed she wasn’t eating or drinking hardly anything. We took her to a vet at an animal hospital we trusted, and the vet struggled to keep her alive, managing to clean out her system and pump her up with enough fluids to allow her one more good day at home.
Last Thursday I spent most of the day at my ex’s house with Shelby. I took her outside, where she used to love to roam, for one last time. I played with her with string one last time. I took her for a “magic carpet” ride in a box above my head, soaring from room to room, for a last time. Mostly, I just lay next to her while she rested, and gently scratched her head or comforted her as she slept, her brown and copper fur under my fingers.
The next day, my ex and I took her to the vet. My ex researched everything possible about Shelby’s condition on the Internet, and I probed the vet with tons of questions. In the end, however, we realized that Shelby was suffering, and we did what we had to do. We held her gently, my ex rubbing her face softly, as the vet gave her a lethal injection. And, suddenly, Shelby collapsed and … just wasn’t there anymore. Her body remained, but without the immense presence that made up Shelby’s personality.
We caused her soul to separate from her body.
I think I went a little insane then. My ex later said he felt the same way, that he too felt like his mind became unglued.
It was especially hard for him. Shelby was mostly my cat during almost all of her life. She and I had a bond that was as close as anything I’ve had with any person ever. But Shelby also loved my ex, and after I moved out, Shelby and my ex became deeply attached. Every night Shelby would scratch on the bedroom door to get in when she wanted, and would order my ex around to be let out as well. Shelby would vocally demand my ex to go to bed when Shelby wanted him to, and then she would curl up next to my ex after he had settled down. When Shelby was ready to get up in the morning, she would walk on my ex’s face, making sure he didn’t oversleep. And through all that, my ex responded one way – with love. Now that Shelby is gone, my ex said he is having the most horrible time sleeping because a critical part of my ex’s nights is gone forever.
Neither of us will see Shelby again in this lifetime. And that doesn’t just sadden us. It infuriates us.
She is our daughter. Our friend. Our family. How dare the universe take her away!
I know deeply in my heart, without a doubt, she’s gone on to another life. But where is she? What’s happening to her? I want to demand answers, but I don’t know how. I feel like a mother who took her daughter to an airport then kissed her farewell with the knowledge that not only would I never see her again, but I would never even know where she went.
I want so much to communicate with her. To know that she’s safe. And I never will, at least not in this lifetime.
Somehow I’ve always felt Shelby and I knew each other before we met in this life. We adopted her from the Denver Dumb Friends’ League animal shelter. I was walking past row after row of cats when I saw Shelby and for some reason just realized she was the cat for me. And she was. My ex has always marveled at how I just knew, and how Shelby truly turned out to be a cat beyond even the most fantastic expectations.
Right before Shelby died, I did a quiet ceremony while holding her, and I talked to my Jaguar spirit guide about her next incarnation. Jaguar said she would make a good mountain lion, but I said I was afraid she would be lonely because I know Shelby loved us so much. To me, Shelby is beyond any restrictions. She may have been a cat in this life, but she was greater than me and greater than anybody I knew.
After talking with Jaguar about that, I tapped into the love of my ex and myself and used it, giving it to Jaguar, while asking Jaguar to direct and focus our love in a way to make Shelby’s transition into the next life a smooth one, and that she would always remember that we loved her. And Jaguar said he would do that, and I felt it happening, and the vet gave her the injection soon afterward.
My memories of Shelby are too many to write down, but a few stand out.
Shelby would always follow us around, determined to stick her nose into our affairs. If we got a box in the mail, she would jump on the counter and sniff it and try and figure it out first. If we got in groceries, she would investigate them and give her approval (or lack of approval) to our purchase. And she was so very vocal about whatever was on her mind, and she thought about a lot, that was clear!
One day her nosiness was her downfall. My ex’s mom is from Puerto Rico, and it’s a tradition there to throw potfuls of water out the door at exactly the stroke of midnight on New Year’s Day. Well, one year we opened the front door, and just as we threw out the water, Shelby decided to run outside in curiosity regarding what we were looking at – and all the water landed right on her in the middle of the cold winter night. She ran back in very unhappily, and we bundled her up and dried her off while laughing uproariously.
About a decade ago, we were living in a townhome in Denver near a large field that ran downhill to a wooded stream. Shelby loved interacting with wildlife – in particular, the squirrels. We had a squirrel feeder on the back porch, and Shelby would wait patiently until a squirrel would approach, and then she would take off running to chase the squirrel away. The thing is, the squirrels weren’t really overly scared of her, and you could tell because every so often Shelby would actually get close enough to catch a squirrel, and the squirrel would stop and angrily turn and start chattering at Shelby, who would quickly back away and either stare in indignation or retreat back to the porch. I think Shelby knew it was as much a game as anybody, but she loved it very much.
One day I decided it would be fun to take Shelby down the hill to explore the stream (we had taken her to similar areas a couple of times before), and so with her perched on my shoulder, we headed on our journey. Along the way we crossed over old, abandoned railroad tracks which … turned out to be not so abandoned after all. Just as we were crossing, a restored trolley car came very slowly down the tracks in our direction and blew its horn to alert us. Shelby very accordingly freaked and ran back up the hill as fast as her legs were carry her, clawing me mightily in the process, and she never wanted to go to there again. It sounds weird, but it was a very funny experience, and I think Shelby actually enjoyed the excitement.
She fully trusted me, from almost the moment I first brought her home, to the day she died. She trusted me to take her, turn her upside down and cuddle her in my arms, like a mother holding a baby. And as I would rock her, she would purr the loudest, most wonderful purrs. She would only trust me to do that with her, and it was a trust I valued more than almost anything on Earth.
The last few days have been very tough, needless to say. My ex and I have been together for each other, supporting each other in very important ways. When I had broken down in tears, hating myself for what we had done, my ex would convince me we had done the right thing. And I would be there for my ex when he would feel horrible about our actions in having Shelby put to sleep.
“Death is the price a pet owner pays to relieve their pet’s suffering,” he told me he read online, meaning that we will always feel guilty at making the choice to kill Shelby, but we did it for the right reasons.
Friday, after Shelby’s body was put into a box, I kept wanted to scream. I kept wanting to try and wake her up. I kept feeling like it was impossible she could be dead. The entire world suffered at the loss of Shelby, and what’s amazing is that so little of the world will ever realize that.
Friday after our children got home from school, we buried Shelby in our back yard. My ex and my son said their farewells, and then I read a poem by Suzanne Vega that I felt was appropriate (it’s attached at the bottom of today’s post). I then covered the grave, and we all put rocks on top and walked away.
Well, except for my daughter. She didn’t want to take part in the funeral. She actually seemed almost casual about what had happened. I can’t help but wonder if her cat nature just sees Shelby’s death as a part of life, and she’s handling it in a very sane way.
My ex said Shelby was the sanest of all of us. And I tend to agree.
Master has been wonderful during this time. He gave me almost all of Thursday off to be with Shelby, then all of Friday to deal with the euthanasia and the aftermath, and then all of Saturday to be with my family and try to move on.
Part of me feels like I’ll never truly move on from Shelby’s death. I have two human children. And I had a feline one. And my feline daughter died two days ago. And there’s now a hole in my heart that I don’t see how it could ever be filled again.
Goodbye for now, Shelby. You blessed our lives in more ways than I could imagine. I’ll see you again, someday.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"World Before Columbus"
by Suzanne Vega
If your love were taken from me
Every color would be black and white
It would be as flat as the world before Columbus
That's the day that I lose half my sight
If your life were taken from me
All the trees would freeze in this cold ground
It would be as cruel as the world before Columbus
Sail to the edge and I'd be there looking down
Those men who lust for land
And for riches strange and new
Who love those trinkets of desire
Oh they never will have you
And they'll never know the gold
Or the copper in your hair
How could they weigh the worth
Of you so rare
If your love were taken from me
Every light that's bright would soon go dim
It would be as dark as the world before Columbus
Down the waterfall and I'd swim over the brim
Those men who lust for land
And for riches strange and new
Who love those trinkets of desire
Oh they will never have you
And they'll never know the gold
Or the copper in your hair
How could they weigh the worth
Of you so rare
And my ex and I killed her.
Her name was Shelby. To say she was a cat seems like it’s not enough. She was truly the best cat in the world. She represented what all other cats should strive to be.
She was as much a person as you or I or anybody else could be.
She was incredibly intelligent, and mindful, and always wanted to know what my ex and I were doing during the almost 18 years that she lived with us. And if she didn’t approve what she saw, she would very vocally let us know.
She owned us. We were her pets and her children.
And she was our daughter.
We were all family, deeply and closely and with intense love.
And she’s dead now. And reality doesn’t seem like it’s right anymore. It seems like everything is skewed. Like nothing makes sense, like nothing means anything anymore.
Her health began deteriorating a couple of months ago, and during the last week we noticed she wasn’t eating or drinking hardly anything. We took her to a vet at an animal hospital we trusted, and the vet struggled to keep her alive, managing to clean out her system and pump her up with enough fluids to allow her one more good day at home.
Last Thursday I spent most of the day at my ex’s house with Shelby. I took her outside, where she used to love to roam, for one last time. I played with her with string one last time. I took her for a “magic carpet” ride in a box above my head, soaring from room to room, for a last time. Mostly, I just lay next to her while she rested, and gently scratched her head or comforted her as she slept, her brown and copper fur under my fingers.
The next day, my ex and I took her to the vet. My ex researched everything possible about Shelby’s condition on the Internet, and I probed the vet with tons of questions. In the end, however, we realized that Shelby was suffering, and we did what we had to do. We held her gently, my ex rubbing her face softly, as the vet gave her a lethal injection. And, suddenly, Shelby collapsed and … just wasn’t there anymore. Her body remained, but without the immense presence that made up Shelby’s personality.
We caused her soul to separate from her body.
I think I went a little insane then. My ex later said he felt the same way, that he too felt like his mind became unglued.
It was especially hard for him. Shelby was mostly my cat during almost all of her life. She and I had a bond that was as close as anything I’ve had with any person ever. But Shelby also loved my ex, and after I moved out, Shelby and my ex became deeply attached. Every night Shelby would scratch on the bedroom door to get in when she wanted, and would order my ex around to be let out as well. Shelby would vocally demand my ex to go to bed when Shelby wanted him to, and then she would curl up next to my ex after he had settled down. When Shelby was ready to get up in the morning, she would walk on my ex’s face, making sure he didn’t oversleep. And through all that, my ex responded one way – with love. Now that Shelby is gone, my ex said he is having the most horrible time sleeping because a critical part of my ex’s nights is gone forever.
Neither of us will see Shelby again in this lifetime. And that doesn’t just sadden us. It infuriates us.
She is our daughter. Our friend. Our family. How dare the universe take her away!
I know deeply in my heart, without a doubt, she’s gone on to another life. But where is she? What’s happening to her? I want to demand answers, but I don’t know how. I feel like a mother who took her daughter to an airport then kissed her farewell with the knowledge that not only would I never see her again, but I would never even know where she went.
I want so much to communicate with her. To know that she’s safe. And I never will, at least not in this lifetime.
Somehow I’ve always felt Shelby and I knew each other before we met in this life. We adopted her from the Denver Dumb Friends’ League animal shelter. I was walking past row after row of cats when I saw Shelby and for some reason just realized she was the cat for me. And she was. My ex has always marveled at how I just knew, and how Shelby truly turned out to be a cat beyond even the most fantastic expectations.
Right before Shelby died, I did a quiet ceremony while holding her, and I talked to my Jaguar spirit guide about her next incarnation. Jaguar said she would make a good mountain lion, but I said I was afraid she would be lonely because I know Shelby loved us so much. To me, Shelby is beyond any restrictions. She may have been a cat in this life, but she was greater than me and greater than anybody I knew.
After talking with Jaguar about that, I tapped into the love of my ex and myself and used it, giving it to Jaguar, while asking Jaguar to direct and focus our love in a way to make Shelby’s transition into the next life a smooth one, and that she would always remember that we loved her. And Jaguar said he would do that, and I felt it happening, and the vet gave her the injection soon afterward.
My memories of Shelby are too many to write down, but a few stand out.
Shelby would always follow us around, determined to stick her nose into our affairs. If we got a box in the mail, she would jump on the counter and sniff it and try and figure it out first. If we got in groceries, she would investigate them and give her approval (or lack of approval) to our purchase. And she was so very vocal about whatever was on her mind, and she thought about a lot, that was clear!
One day her nosiness was her downfall. My ex’s mom is from Puerto Rico, and it’s a tradition there to throw potfuls of water out the door at exactly the stroke of midnight on New Year’s Day. Well, one year we opened the front door, and just as we threw out the water, Shelby decided to run outside in curiosity regarding what we were looking at – and all the water landed right on her in the middle of the cold winter night. She ran back in very unhappily, and we bundled her up and dried her off while laughing uproariously.
About a decade ago, we were living in a townhome in Denver near a large field that ran downhill to a wooded stream. Shelby loved interacting with wildlife – in particular, the squirrels. We had a squirrel feeder on the back porch, and Shelby would wait patiently until a squirrel would approach, and then she would take off running to chase the squirrel away. The thing is, the squirrels weren’t really overly scared of her, and you could tell because every so often Shelby would actually get close enough to catch a squirrel, and the squirrel would stop and angrily turn and start chattering at Shelby, who would quickly back away and either stare in indignation or retreat back to the porch. I think Shelby knew it was as much a game as anybody, but she loved it very much.
One day I decided it would be fun to take Shelby down the hill to explore the stream (we had taken her to similar areas a couple of times before), and so with her perched on my shoulder, we headed on our journey. Along the way we crossed over old, abandoned railroad tracks which … turned out to be not so abandoned after all. Just as we were crossing, a restored trolley car came very slowly down the tracks in our direction and blew its horn to alert us. Shelby very accordingly freaked and ran back up the hill as fast as her legs were carry her, clawing me mightily in the process, and she never wanted to go to there again. It sounds weird, but it was a very funny experience, and I think Shelby actually enjoyed the excitement.
She fully trusted me, from almost the moment I first brought her home, to the day she died. She trusted me to take her, turn her upside down and cuddle her in my arms, like a mother holding a baby. And as I would rock her, she would purr the loudest, most wonderful purrs. She would only trust me to do that with her, and it was a trust I valued more than almost anything on Earth.
The last few days have been very tough, needless to say. My ex and I have been together for each other, supporting each other in very important ways. When I had broken down in tears, hating myself for what we had done, my ex would convince me we had done the right thing. And I would be there for my ex when he would feel horrible about our actions in having Shelby put to sleep.
“Death is the price a pet owner pays to relieve their pet’s suffering,” he told me he read online, meaning that we will always feel guilty at making the choice to kill Shelby, but we did it for the right reasons.
Friday, after Shelby’s body was put into a box, I kept wanted to scream. I kept wanting to try and wake her up. I kept feeling like it was impossible she could be dead. The entire world suffered at the loss of Shelby, and what’s amazing is that so little of the world will ever realize that.
Friday after our children got home from school, we buried Shelby in our back yard. My ex and my son said their farewells, and then I read a poem by Suzanne Vega that I felt was appropriate (it’s attached at the bottom of today’s post). I then covered the grave, and we all put rocks on top and walked away.
Well, except for my daughter. She didn’t want to take part in the funeral. She actually seemed almost casual about what had happened. I can’t help but wonder if her cat nature just sees Shelby’s death as a part of life, and she’s handling it in a very sane way.
My ex said Shelby was the sanest of all of us. And I tend to agree.
Master has been wonderful during this time. He gave me almost all of Thursday off to be with Shelby, then all of Friday to deal with the euthanasia and the aftermath, and then all of Saturday to be with my family and try to move on.
Part of me feels like I’ll never truly move on from Shelby’s death. I have two human children. And I had a feline one. And my feline daughter died two days ago. And there’s now a hole in my heart that I don’t see how it could ever be filled again.
Goodbye for now, Shelby. You blessed our lives in more ways than I could imagine. I’ll see you again, someday.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"World Before Columbus"
by Suzanne Vega
If your love were taken from me
Every color would be black and white
It would be as flat as the world before Columbus
That's the day that I lose half my sight
If your life were taken from me
All the trees would freeze in this cold ground
It would be as cruel as the world before Columbus
Sail to the edge and I'd be there looking down
Those men who lust for land
And for riches strange and new
Who love those trinkets of desire
Oh they never will have you
And they'll never know the gold
Or the copper in your hair
How could they weigh the worth
Of you so rare
If your love were taken from me
Every light that's bright would soon go dim
It would be as dark as the world before Columbus
Down the waterfall and I'd swim over the brim
Those men who lust for land
And for riches strange and new
Who love those trinkets of desire
Oh they will never have you
And they'll never know the gold
Or the copper in your hair
How could they weigh the worth
Of you so rare
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