Dammit all to hell
Old friends and new, lurkers and IRL, NOW the motherfuckers have taken everything from me. As of about 6:45 this morning, my Biddy left me.
I was on here, TRYING to catch-up on the weeks-behind thank-yous to all of the good people, old & new, who’ve been helping me survive this most-illegal bullshit eviction on fucking earth, and she crept back into the bathroom, her “sauna” with the humidifier and her food & water, where she tended to stay when she wasn’t with me… And at 7A, I went to get her and take her outside to graze like we did every morning that I could get up or had stayed up (and if I couldn’t get up with the sun, she still went outside to graze and be a cat), and, far too much like Janis Joplin, there she was, limp, alone, and in a pool of her own sick. She always did still consider herself a “feral” cat, every bit as skittish, sometimes a little paranoid, and since we lost her brother in September, very solitary, when she wasn’t lying on me, walking across my bladder or worse parts if she thought that I’d “overslept,” or snuggled in the spot where my butt had been in the bed, her favorite, warmest place to sleep. I was in here, sitting on my ass, on the fucking computer, and not 30 feet away, she was dying in the bathroom, alone. Why they do that, I’ll never understand, but it’s what they do, and even though her eyes hadn’t switched to that reflective-cornea flatness that most recently-deceased animals show, and she seemed to be STARING AT ME, she was gone, her lungs wouldn’t take any air, she was cooling off and she was limp as a rag doll.
I’m sorry to relate every disturbing detail about her death, if it upsets y’all, I’m very sorry, and I don’t mean to offend anybody with this, but dammit, she was my KIN, my FAMILY, and even though I didn’t find out about her lung cancer and blown-out colon until, what? A couple of months ago, if that long? — I never thought that she’d leave this soon. Obviously, she’d been suffering silently longer than I knew, and I was too wrapped-up in my own lame bullshit to have taken proper care of her. I smoked around her and her brother for over 14 years, and their lungs aren’t even a tenth of my sarcoid-ridden lung capacity. Not making a moral statement about smoking, just saying that I’m what killed the two creatures on this earth, the two PEOPLE on this earth who loved me more than anybody other than my Nannie and my late nephew Tater. She and I were still mourning Bubbe Boy, I still expected to hear his collar jingle follow hers, every time she came up around my chair for attention, treats, or to announce that Her Majesty was hungry. I just hope that, wherever they are in the universe, that they are together again. She missed him and she needed him as much as he did her, so if there is ANY justice in this fucktarded excuse of an existence, they are together, curled-up like commas and snoring.
The truly morbid part is that my baby, that warm, overly-furred part-Maine-Coon little cat, is in a plastic bag in the freezer, until I can find a place to have her cremated tomorrow. The most recent vet she’d been to, the most overpriced flake I’ve ever met in my life, will probably want $300 for it, but that ain’t gonna happen. If the SPCA offers cremation services, we’ll cross the river to Algiers (and yes, those specific rednecks skeer the fuck outta me, but at least, hopefully, the SPCA, will still have the same cool people that they had when they spayed Biddy, lo, those many moons ago), as they’re usually the most-affordable option. I thought, in my stressed-out stoopidity, that I’d have at least another couple of months with her, that we’d have time to find a new place to live and that she wouldn’t have to spend too much time outdoors after we leave here in a week. I don’t know how to go through the next day of my life without her, she was my clock, that other little heartbeat in the house that made even this hellhole seem like a house, if not a home. She was the boss, even if I never did anything well enough to save her life. Healthy, well-cared-for cats can live to be 20 or 25, I’ve seen it. I’ve also seen 18-year-old cats who were suffering through existence simply because people couldn’t let them go. I would never have subjected her to chemo or radiation or surgery, she was in no shape to suffer through that torture or to survive it, and having watched Papa and Nannie die of cancer, there was no way in hell that I’d do that to Biddy. Couldn’t do shit right to save them EITHER.
Just wanted to let y’all know, as y’all are, aside from my “surrogate daughter” in Texas and, when I can find him again, my friend Anthony, y’all are my family, and most of y’all have been here for me when no other humans have, from before we lost Nannie, even, through losing Tater, losing the house, Daddy dying, being knifed in the back by ungrateful spawn of inbred mouth-breathers whom I’d wasted 26 years of my life on, so that their lies could KILL my father, all of the horrible shit in my life, so much of it brought on my by own stupid decisions, y’all have been here, y’all have cared, y’all have helped, and y’all have never wavered in your amazing capacity to love such a fucktard as myself. So thank you, a million times over, thank you. I don’t have an e-mail address for Debbi (see World O’Crap to learn about her book & her huge heart), but somebody also please tell her for me, okay? I am fortunate enough to have that surrogate daughter and her fiance’ coming down here to help me gather-up the rest of my shit, as much as they are physically able (Candice was born with more fucked-up skeletal shit & arthritic shit than I will EVER see!), all the better to keep my belongings and remnants of loved ones past out of the hands of deputies, constables and the racist scumsuckers who’ve illegally deprived me of allegedly-federally-mandated housing.
Thank you all for being my friends, and for listening to my whining and bitching yet again. AT&T are being uber-pricks, as is the “free” celly from Richard fucking Branson, about my being able to keep internet access whilst between addresses, so I may have to camp-out in the hipsterville area of the 8th Ward to be near the library hotspot, but I will stay in touch, I promise. No need to worry about me, anyway, I couldn’t get off of this planet with a towel and a Hitchhiker’s Guide glued to my forehead. But there’s no way in hell, even if I had the money, that I’d fork-out ninety bucks for an outmoded-by-six-years “wifi card” PLUS fifteen-bucks-a-day fees from that piece-of-shit “wireless store” at Wally World, who seem to be WAY the fuck behind the shit that AT&T allegedly offers for short-term/no-physical-addy wifi. It’s just fucktarded cubed. I’ll figure this shit out, as soon as I can wrap my dessicated brain around it.
I love y’all.