First: my Rufus has passed. He made it 18 months with prostate cancer, which was a feat in itself. Yet, in the last 6 months, his health took a plunge. He had to wear diapers, which he hated, and lost the use of a hind leg. He would still go to greet people, but would drag himself to do so. He was in pain, and I promised him I would never let him linger like that.
On March 26th, with his buddies Claude, Bob, Gary, and John gathered round, he went to sleep and crossed the rainbow bridge. It was the hardest decision I've ever made. Sometimes, it had been just Rufus and me, nagivating the rough spots in life. Now, my bed was empty and my bunny boy was gone...
but not quite. The next morning, I looked down into my shoe, and saw something dark. Praying it wasn't something breathing, I reached down...and pulled out a Greenie! My pup had left me a treat to let me know he was OK.
As I am an avid collector of mourning hair icons, I decided to try my hand at a memorial for my baby. While he was still with me, I collected some of his hair and mine. I combined and finely chopped it, then used it as the grass upon which stood Rufus and a picture of his rainbow bridge urn. I found a period frame for very little money, used a photo of an existing hair icon for the background, and collaged everything together. It now is the crowning part of my collection.
We had a lovely Irish wake for him on May 2nd, with good friends, good foods, and lots of laughter. I wanted a rainbow bridge balloon, but the party store didn't have any. I ended up with a huge multi-colored butterfly, and a square rainbow balloon. One couldn't tell if we were celebrating his crossing the bridge, or outing him as gay.
The loss of Rufus wasn't my only sorrow. On the morning of May 1st, my beloved brother-in-law Guy lost his battle with pancreatic cancer. He fought the good fight for nearly 2 years, and packed his time with a lot of living: movies, theatre, trips to Vegas and Ireland..he did all that he could in the months allotted him. Now, my sister is living alone for the first time in 63 years. It's a struggle, and we all support her as best we can, but it is something that one must ultimately do alone – redefine one's life.
|AT MY NIECE'S WEDDING IN HAPPIER TIMES:|
GUY AND DIANE IN BACKGROUND, NIECE ALANA,
GARY AND I AT TABLE
In the midst of all this, I decided I did not want to live alone. I can't really take care of another dog, so I decided I would rescue a cat. I looked carefully around, but every time I settled on meeting one kitty or another, they would be adopted the next morning! I felt as though the Universe was trying to corral me down one particular shoot towards one specific cat. I had decided to check out/ visit a beautiful orange and white female, but made one more search at the Edison Animal Shelter.. and there he was. I looked into the green eyes of a beautiful Russian Blue, found as a stray and caught between the rails at the Metuchen train station.
I had to go see him. Claude drove. She fell in love with him the minute she saw him. I still wasn't sure, but decided on him anyway. They said he was 2 years old...but he's actually an older kitten, one who likes to play using nails and teeth. My arms look like connect-the-dots pages but, with that one flaw, he really is an astounding personality.
He greets everyone at the door, insists on going behind the computer screen to hide his catnip mice, takes poor little John Watson captive (much like in the series. Poor John...) and insists on pushing every piece of wall art that he can reach sideways. It's like a personal mission with him.
So, that's where I've been. Going forward, I will be back to more regular posting. I have lots of neat Sherlock stuff to share, from video clips to products.
Speak to you all soon. Oh! I forgot to mention my kitty's name is Watson.