There are long moments where it's hard to accept the cruelty of time. In less than two years, my world seemed to slip right through my fingers and I am stunned, damaged, broken in a way that I did not know possible.
In the midst of all my loss and all that is gone forever: my dear, sweet brother, dead at 58, my mother, who suffered with Alzheimer's for four years until she disappeared into oblivion this past April, my marriage of 13 years, and most recently, my home, which I am to be gone from within 45 days, I am distracted in a bitter sweet way I feel I will never recover from. I am losing my best friend.
My beloved cat of 20 years, Sadie, is fading right before my very eyes. In watching her during her last days, I am brought back to the simplicity of life, of gratitude, of what's really important when all is said and done. I am brought back to the moment, the sacredness of it all, a small lifetime that flashes before my eyes with a joy that somehow makes it all worthwhile, yet at the same time, unbearable and excruciating, knowing my days with my little striped friend are numbered.
I am holding vigil at my best friend's side and have been since I noticed that time and age were finally, seriously catching up with Sadie. It's been a little over a week now, and each passing day takes a little bit more from her. I am praying she just fades away, that euthanasia will not be necessary, that there will be dignity and love in her passing, surrounded by our other kitties and myself with all things safe and familiar that she will see and know.
There is no doubt she knows how loved and cherished she's been, how important, how unique and remarkable. Twenty years is a long, long time and the relationship I've shared with Sadie has been more intimate, long lived and precious than any I have ever had before, human and feline included.
We know each other with a depth I would never have thought possible in any realm. She has been a source of laughter and amusement, of comfort and security. From the very first time I laid eyes on her, when someone presented me with a 7 week striped kitten, I knew she was mine, that somehow, this was something I felt with my heart and my spirit. When I first held her in my arms, she looked up at me and into my eyes. It was like finding a long, lost friend, a missing part of yourself, home. She kept her gaze, staring into my eyes and did what I've called "the silent scream", a way that Sadie had where she'd open her mouth as if to meow, but it was silent. To this day, she does that, only to me, an acknowledgement across the room, an inquiry if I was upset about something, asking me for something, letting me know she was here..
I am brought back with Sadie to a time two decades ago when things were so different, so promising. I had gotten her two weeks after moving to a new area, a new house, a new job. I was in my thirties and the world was good, light, limitless. Sadie was perfect in her timing and essence.
I need to tell Sadie's story while she's still here, so my words aren't shaded by grief and loss, so I know this world, these days, are filled with more than a memory, that I can I can touch and feel this sweet little savior of mine, that I can see with my eyes that beauty and goodness still exist, that, for a change, my dearest friend can see her loyalty and honor returned, that I can show the best thing I've ever known she had her place in the sun, in my heart and in my spirit.
This will be the first loss, my first death of a loved one where I know I will have no regrets, no what ifs, no if only I had a little more time, done something different. I know with all certainty I never missed an opportunity to show her my love, never overlooked a glance or a need, never lost a chance to let her know she was the absolute best.
There is a lesson in this for me, for all of us, that there is sacredness in ordinary things, that how, when you think back to your most perfect day, the time of your life, most of us would chose something routine, ordinary, something taken for granted as pedestrian, part of the dredge of everyday life.
When we reflect with an open heart we will see our perfect day, the best that we ever had was just ordinary, something we did without thought or plan, something that defined us, make us who we are,what makes us so alike and sets us apart at the same time, makes us feel that greatness we've read about in scriptures, heard about when the divine was explained to us.
It's in those brief moments, those ordinary days, we can see the full glory of the lives we've been given, the simplicity and the purity of just being and embracing what you have and letting it just be enough.
It is without question that my perfect day had Sadie in it, a glance across my bed when I first opened my eyes every morning and seeing her in her usual place beside me, company in the bathroom when I got ready for work every day, the sound of her heavy, determined footsteps on the roof every night, the words of a nine year old boy who entered my life 13+ years ago and fell in love with this kitty, who, when I said to him after Sadie reacted to a bad haircut he had and attacked his head, "Sadie knows you,' said in return, ' No, Sadie knows everything...."
I knew I wasn't just partial, unduly influenced by the ways of another species, I knew I was in the presence and possession of something amazing, something that was a Godsend, something I loved like no other simply because she was mine, wholeheartedly. Sadie exemplified the meaning of the word HOME, made me feel and understand what it was like to truly belong somewhere, with someone, and to know there are things in this world that prove to us, without a doubt, there is such a thing as destiny and worthiness.
Sadie saved my life twice - had I not been there, survived, been told the story, I would have thought these would be the ramblings of a true crazy cat lady. Twice, at age 5 and at 12. The first time, I thought I was home alone, living in remote Cazadero, Ca., the most amazing place I've (we've) ever lived. Someone was getting ready to assault me while I laid on my couch when I woke up to the screams of a woman saying " Get this F-ing cat offa me...." Sadie was hanging on to the back of my assailant's head, scratching and gouging them with her back claws until she fled into the night. The second time, still in Cazadero, 7 years later, I had, after a bad bout of pneumonia, an episode of left sided heart failure. After I had passed out thinking someone had hit me in the chest with a sledge hammer, I woke up in ICU a day later,after hearing from my neighbor that Sadie had broken through my locked cat door to climb on his skylight to let him know I was in trouble. He told me she was persistent, running from his back porch to mine, back and forth, until he finally got that there was a problem.
But it is in her ordinary-ness that that set Sadie apart. My parents were cat people and I've always had multiple cats all my life. Of all the cats I've ever known, hundreds maybe, Sadie seems to have the most dominant trait of each and every one of them, meaning that every odd, intense, particular and instinctive thing that every cat you ever had did that they were most remembered for: tearing the toilet paper from the roll, climbing up the curtains, shredding your plants, knocking everything off shelves, boxing with lampshades, opening doors and cabinets, getting into drawers and pulling everything in them out, bringing home strange people's underwear, dropping snakes and live rodents inside the house through the cat door for later - all those very things and then some combined were Sadie.
From the time she was two months old until she turned sixteen, she was hell on wheels, a non-stop, uncontrollable striped implement of mass destruction. And when she wasn't ripping things to pieces, she was my shadow. What ever I did, she did. What comes to mind is a summer in Cazadero when the roof on my rental cabin had to be replaced and my part was to gather all the old shingles that had been thrown to the ground and put them all in one pile to be taken to the dump. It took me two full days, probably hundreds of wheel barrows full, and Sadie rode in every single load, balancing herself on top of the pile of shingles and jumping off each time right before I dumped the load. There wasn't a chore to be done for almost 17 years that Sadie wasn't a part of. There hasn't been a day for 20 years where Sadie wasn't a big part of.
I am brought back to summers, Sadie's favorite season for so many reasons. The first summer I had her, I noticed every single piece of fruit that I bought home and put on my counter- peaches, nectarines, mangoes, melons, plums - had not only kitty teeth marks on them, but most of them had been eaten on one side. It wasn't till I caught her in the act that I realized it was Sadie and she loved fruit. I have a series of time lapsed photos of her eating a whole entire peach, 7 in all, within a 10 minute period. If you cut her a wedge of watermelon and put it in front of her, she would annihilate it within an hour, leaving only the white and green of the rind.
January 31, 2013
Last night, I saw a pattern I've seen before. Sadly, it means the end is very near, hours maybe and at most, a day or two. I've been fortunate enough to have had a few old timers - 17, 18 & 19 three times, who have died of old age. They seem to get almost a second wind, although it is evident they are fading even faster. As with the others before her, Sadie seemed to be taking a tour of her favorite things to do and see. She made her rounds around the house, something she hasn't done in a while and even climbed up the little steps to the sofa that she hasn't used in a few weeks to crawl on top of me, coming face to face with me and then putting both of her paws on either side of my neck and hanging there, something she's done with me from the very beginning. I am comforted and grateful for this, especially since I noticed how perfectly her little cat body contoured with my own. It was always a perfect fit, never a time where I had to move or adjust her to make it more comfortable.
This morning, she scratched at the door, something I would never have thought possible the day before. I helped her out outside and kept a close watch. As best as she could, she made it to her favorite haunts; that certain sunbeam in the driveway, my neighbor's yard, where she loved to poop, the patch of shade under the Japanese Maple tree...
She was surrounded by the other cats and in the background are the sounds of the country, a place Sadie has lived her whole life - crows, owls, wings beating in the wind, the tree tops rustling with the wind and with each sound, she reacts. Outside is Sadie's favorite place, always was, and she is purring softly. But her eyes look different to me, almost like I can she she's disappearing.
There is something excruciatingly beautiful in being a part of this. My neighbor is blasting his music again, he's playing old Motown stuff and there is a grace in this soundtrack. When Ben E. King's Stand by Me comes on, I know there is perfection in these moments and that there is a merciful and kind God allowing this to happen.
You see, there was another one of Sadie's ways that was all her own. I'm not sure how I came to discover this thing in her - possibly too much pain medication after a back surgery or something of that sort, but I found that when I sang to Sadie, she sang back. There are many witnesses, our mobile vet included, who added that Sadie wasn't really singing but just humming along. I even have a video on one of my Picasa web albums of Sadie and me singing together. Syllable for syllable, tone for tone, she would match me, almost with an under water quality. There were two songs I sang with Sadie. One was the Cowboy Junkies' version of Blue Moon, with the words modified to fit the circumstance - 'Blue Moon, Sadie pooped in the leaves.....' and the other was Stand By Me. That I sang with her as it was written whenever we were outside together, with her helping me with my chores.
February 1, 2013
It is the next day and I know it is truly just a matter of time. She has seemed peaceful and resigned, but this morning, there is something very different. I can see and feel her slipping away. Up until yesterday, where her moments of lucidity and knowing far overshadowed all else, she is now showing only moments of being here.
But in those moments, she is still Sadie. She still sees me and shows me that she is comforted by it. She is surrounded by our other cats and her favorite toys and I've noticed when she opens her eyes and looks around, she'll reach out and touch the nearest thing with her paw and hold it there for the longest time. Sometimes that nearest thing is me and to feel her, to know she's reaching for me somehow fills my spirit with more joy than there is sorrow.
In the center of this transition, at the heart of this matter is the most important thing of all - Sadie. It's Sadie and everything she stands for. It's twenty years and a lifetime of change, of lost homes, jobs, loved ones, of beaten illnesses and regained families, of new directions and lost ways. It is, in an uncertain world, knowing, no matter what, there was that one thing you knew would always stay the same, always be there. It is the truest friend I would ever know, who, in her little striped body, would measure my worth,and anchor me to this world as nothing ever has.
I thought about my days for the last 20 years and how much a part of Sadie was in each and every one of them. The first thing I did every morning was greet my friend Sadie, I'd say good bye to her before I left to go anywhere and she was the first thing I looked for when I came home. Almost every moment I spent at home and outside, I spent with her and I am wondering if it will ever be possible to imagine a day without her, if I can even fathom what it might feel like without that one sure thing, that sense of home and belonging.
All I know for sure is how lucky I am, how, in this big, strange, scary world, I found something so sweet, so constant, so mine, to love me as I loved them with nothing between us but heart and spirit. In the first part of the movie City of Angels, when Nicholas Cage's character is walking hand in hand with a little girl who has just died to take her to the other side, he asks her what her favorite thing was. Sweetly, she answered 'Dogs'. I know when I am asked when I leave this world, I will say Sadie.
February 2, 2013
It is the next day, 4:31 p.m.and Sadie has died. Just as I had hoped and prayed, she died in my arms. There are no words to describe those last moments with my best friend. There is an emotion that transcends love, that lies far, far beyond the senses we are given and the words that we know to describe them that lies deep in our soul. Until I held Sadie in my arms that one last time, I didn't know such a feeling existed, didn't know I had that much passion for anything like I did for Sadie. As excruciating as is was to feel her slip away, it was the most beautiful moment I ever knew.
It played out like a dream, in slow motion, yet there was a grace and purity in it that I will never forget, something that validated and evened out whatever score there ever could have been between me and this world. It was as if everything disappeared and all that was left was me and Sadie.
I noticed her breathing had slowed and I just knew it was her time. I laid down facing her on the floor and put one arm around her. I put my hand, palm up, in front of her, something I've always done with her. And, as always,. she put her paw down on my hand and spread her claws out as if to grab back, I looked her in the eyes until I saw she was looking back.
I remember asking her if she knew I was there. And there it was, Sadie's 'silent scream'. I told her I loved her more than anything in this world, how important she is and how happy I was that she was here. My last words to her were " Thank you for the time of my life," and I don't ever think I meant anything more wholeheartedly or felt so fiercely.
I felt her paw go limp in my hand, there were two quick last shudders and she was gone. I held on to her for as long as I could, almost like if I could just stop time, none of this would be real, that when I opened my eyes, things would be how they were five, ten, twenty years ago.
But somehow, I knew it was how it was supposed to be. To have been so privileged, so honored to hold in our arms someone we loved so completely, who loved us back and while they are leaving this world, to be able to look into their eyes and have them see you with all the love you've ever known and to be able to tell them how much they mattered, how glad you were that they were here - those are the things of dreams, aspirations and completeness. If only we could embrace that possibility with every moment of every day, with every one who's made a difference. This will be my point of reference, Sadie's last day.
February 3, 2013
I buried Sadie this morning. A dear old friend and fellow crazy cat lady, Ginger, came by and officiated. She's known Sadie for the full twenty years and seven months I've had her. For the first time in my life, I changed my protocol for one of my departed cat's burial.
Usually, I do a variance on a Buddhist ceremony. Placed in what's called a "Lion's Pose", laying on left side, head facing east, there is a prayer that is to be read three times, a Prayer Calling For Rescue. In it, it asks for compassion and protection from the great darkness of karma.
Although appropriate in its context, somehow, this didn't apply to Sadie. It reminded me of a story I had heard years ago when I first studied Buddhism. It spoke of a monk's journey to enlightenment and his direction during his early devout days. When he entered the monastery, all of his worldly possession taken from him, he was given in return three things. The first was a bed, the second a bowl in which was all he's to have to hold food and drink and the third was a young cat.
He was to bond with his cat, care for him and get to know him, really know him and have the cat know the monk in return. If, within the course of the cat's lifetime, this bonding and knowing did happen, the monk will have proven himself worthy of continuing his journey and recognizing true enlightenment while in the presence of it. If this did not happen, the monk was banished and destined to live among the masses.
It was explained to the monk that when a man has reached the highest level of bliss and enlightenment, when they transition to their next life, they become cats. Not all cats are these evolved, otherworldly creatures, but many are. The test in the students relationship with their cats is to recognize the possibility that they have been chosen to care for and bond with a being that has achieved what their life's mission is to be. And it was explained that when those cats died and transitioned, they became deities.
Somehow, I know, with as much certainty as I have ever known, that if this story and fable were indeed true, I have been in the presence of such an evolved, special being. And in knowing that, I sent Sadie on her way without the prayer of protection, but instead with a private note I had written and buried her with telling her of things only she could understand.
February 9, 2013
There is indeed a lesson in this for me, for all of us. Pay attention, don't miss a thing. That ordinary day that passed you by just might be the time of your life. There is such grace and goodness in this world, it is easy to overlook the things that really matter, to not stop and take a second look around you to see how truly blessed we really are.
There are angels among us and they are everywhere: in a dear, departed brother's heart years and years too late, in a mother's forgiveness during her last lucid moments after a lifetime of estrangement, in a stranger's smile in a supermarket in Fort Bragg, California on that certain day in 1981 when you decided to end your life, in a long, lost childhood friend's appearance after forty years just when you needed him most, in a neighbor's morning greeting, in a sweet, striped cat's presence in your life for twenty years.
Although I have missed so many chances, failed to see so many sacred ones who stood so close I should have never have missed them, didn't pay attention for so many years, I am so very lucky to have recognized an angel when I first saw it, cherished it and embraced it until the very last moment I had it.
We are defined by those moments, that when we remember them, make us happy, let us know we were here and give us that sense of belonging that is so essential. Those moments are the only things we are left to hold on to, when grief and pain become so great we think we just can't go on.
Those brief, precious moments, simple as they are, as pedestrian and even annoying they seem at the time are the things that save us, that give us that slender silver thread holding us to this world. For me, it is getting a 'wet willie' from your then 53 year old brother at a cousin's funeral and a sad smile to let me know he shares my sorrow, my parents' judgement because I knew in my heart they only wanted me to soar, a friend's phone call when I am lost, a determined cat's insistence on riding in a wheel barrow full of shingles for two solid days.
When all is said and done, we are left to ourselves, with our concious, with our love and amazement, our memories and our hearts. There is a fine line between pain and suffering, but a deep, wide chasm separating sorrow and joy.
Although there are still so many times I wish I knew then what I know now, pray I could go back and do it all differently, cherish with all my might those things I knew I would lose someday, that I would give anything to be able to say that there were no missed chances and nothing left unturned, I need to remember my brother Gary's words - " It is what it is..."
At 56, my eyes are finally open. I am joyous because I have been in the presence of greatness and purity my whole entire life. And even though there is a deep, profound sadness that I have never known because it took me all this time, I feel as though my soul has been spared.
I've been blessed and annointed with grace, in spite of the fact my back was turned most of the time and I wasn't aware, I have been given the gift of insight although I had to lose absolutely everything to find it; right here, right now, with the ghosts of my brother Gary, my parents, my sweet, sweet Sadie looking over my shoulder. I need to embrace what has been mine all along even though they are gone, hold them close and never let them go, never forget what I've been given. I will always remember there was a time, a day, a moment, when I had it all.
