Forgive me for asking but what do you know of hopelessness compounded by grief? Can anyone explain to me why this hurts so bad? This raging, blinding, can’t think straight kind of grief? My heart is so broken my body reverberates pain. Under the staggering weight of despair I cannot lift my spirits and my soul has drowned in lunacy. I am crazy with the loss. I can drink to it. I can write about it. I can text about it. But the moment I open my mouth to speak of it tears spill out.
You would think I have lost my sister. My mother. My husband. Anyone other than a cat. Yes, a simple cat. I don’t have children so Cassidy is my Calico baby. She is my princess, my sweet pea, my everything and I love her with every fiber of my being. When she fell out of a window & escaped last Sunday night my world stopped spinning. Everything ground to a halt and I haven’t been the same since. Yes, I know Cassidy is just a cat.
At the risk of sending myself into hysterics I have to explain why this loss hurts so much. I found Cassidy when I went to the shelter for a completely different cat. As soon as I saw her I knew I had to take her home. It was love at first sight. She had staples in her head from a bb gun wound, a lesion on her tail (turns out her tail is broken), a gray patch under one eye making her look even more beaten. 6 pounds of skin and bones. I knew no one else would want her.
Since she was once an abused stray we kept Cassidy as an indoor kitty. I’ve only had her 19 months. We were just starting to really bond. We had a routine. She, me, a good book and a cup of Kisa coffee in bed. Just the morning she went missing she had curled around my legs, let me rub her belly and held my hand between her paws, purring madly. I tell everyone I know I don’t know if I’ve had her long enough or loved her hard enough for her to consider me home. But that peaceful Sunday morning felt like home. If you had asked me then I would have said yes. However, the fact she was once a stray contributes to her nervous nature and like me she is jumpy and frightens very easily. High strung, one would say. I can’t say it enough – she’s been abused so she has her reasons. Like I said, someone shot her in the head with a bb gun. Shot her. I took her in with staples in her skull.
She’s in the woods somewhere. Looking for her is nearly impossible. She’ll bolt from the sound of the smallest twig snapping. To make matters worse, my neighborhood. We are surrounded by predators on all sides. Fast moving cars. Coyote. Fox. Hawk. Not to mention mean neighbors with big dogs. She would be no match for any of these things.
We have handed out fliers, talked to the neighborhood (those who will listen), posted alerts on Craigslist & FaceBook, moved her litter box to the yard (now pointless since we’ve had two torrential rainstorms in the last 24 hours). We walk the woods everyday. We call for her and cry for her. My mind plays tricks on me. I imagine her everywhere but see her nowhere.