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Pinky
Brigid
Veteran
This cat thing is probably getting tiresome to some of the older members here but I need to let some of this grief out because my heart's really breaking this time.
This is what happened:
I found blood on the kitchen floor and in one of the cat food dishes this morning. Big drops and a few puddles and what looked like tissue or maybe a blood clot. Both of my parents were napping upstairs so I went up there to make sure they hadn't cut themselves or something. They were awake and fine and so were 3 of our 4 cats. But there was more blood on the stairs and then I discovered blood stains all over the bedding in the spare bedroom, on the carpet, the wall.
By this point I knew it must be wee, sweet Pinky. He came to us out of the blue a few years ago, appearing at the kitchen window right beside my father's chair. What I'm about to say next may sound like exaggeration but it's not. This cat was the most loving, affectionate, good-natured, sociable, sweet-tempered cat we've ever known. He must have been the runt of his litter and was probably born in the barn of one of our farming neighbours because he was not a well-cared-for cat when he came to us. Small, blond (but pinkish in the sun), dirty, patchy furred, snot nosed, one-eyed (we thought at first) and just rough and sick looking in general. He had a raspy little meow and sometimes he would try to meow but nothing would come out. But as soon as we laid eyes on him we fell in love because his personality was utterly adorable. He didn't hear very well and he appeared to be a little on the dumb side and that made him all the more endearing to us. He had somehow learned excellent social skills because after we brought him home from the vet he made friends with the other cats in record time displaying submission exactly when appropriate.
He had some health problems which is par for the course with barn cats. The first issue we dealt with was his left eye. It was swollen shut and appeared painful. The vet operated as soon as Pinky was up to it and his eye was as good as new in a matter of a couple of weeks. He became an indoor cat like all our other cats and has never tried to get out. He began grooming himself with gusto and his coat grew in beautifully and fully, thick and healthy. He bathed himself fastidiously, more so than any of the others, maybe because he knew what it was like not to able to enjoy the luxury of it when he was trying to survive outside.
The bigger health issues were his chronic sinus infection and pneumonitus (sp?) which is basically poor lung function due to disease. He would sometimes go into coughing fits that sounded horrible, not at all like the usual 'passing of the fur ball'. But there was nothing that we could do about these chronic conditions other than keep him as healthy as possible and bring him to the vet when he worsened for some antibiotics and intravenous liquids. He sneezed a lot and I was often amazed at how such a little head could contain so much snot. In general though he was living a pretty healthy, active, and happy life with us and our other 4 cats.
For the past 5 years he's been our joy. When strangers come to the door the other cats always run and hide but not Pinky. He would go right up to the stranger (propane guy, plumber, satellite TV guy, whoever), crawl up their pant leg and when he got picked up (they always picked him up) he'd purr and drool and squirm blissfully in their arms. Did I mention he loved people? Everyone fell in love with Pinky. Everyone. When he was in my arms it was like being given a really good tranquilizer. He made my brain release floods of endorphins for some reason and he had the same effect on everyone else.
Flash forward to this morning, blood all around the house, too much blood to be a shrew or mouse 'present' from anyone. I'm upstairs getting a little frantic knowing there was something terribly wrong with Pinky and not knowing where he was. He could be hiding under a bed. He could have crawled into any inaccessible-to-humans space to die. My big orange tabby Tom was standing on the top step and I asked him where Pinky was and he very clearly turned his head and looked downstairs into the parlour where the green chairs are. So down I went and sure enough there was Pinky, under one of the green chairs, his nose and mouth covered in thick, red blood, and he was panting, gurgling, struggling to breathe. The blood was still pouring out of him and we got some towels to put underneath him but he got up slowly and sort of staggered into my room which is on the first floor a few yards from where he had been lying.
I was desperate to get him to the vet but the first snowstorm of the season started this morning and we couldn't get out with our little car even though the vet is just 10 minutes from our house. I begged my mother to call around to our neighbours to see if anyone could come with their SUV but nobody could. We called the vet to see if there was anyone there who could come and pick him up but there wasn't.
So there we all were, in my room, my mother and I lying on the floor around Pinky and my father in the chair and there was nothing we could do for him. He'd lost so much blood he was weak and dehydrated and still bleeding from the nose. We were thinking maybe his lungs finally gave out because he was having such difficulty breathing and there was so much gurgling coming from his lungs. It was almost unbearable to watch. The three of us are sitting there watching our precious, beloved little Pinky dying this slow, painful, horrible death right in front of our eyes and there's nothing we can do for him. We're trapped in the house, the snow is blowing, the wind is howling, and my mother's frantic. She wants to hold him, clean the drying globs of blood off his nose and mouth, but he hisses, he doesn't want to be touched. That's the first time he's ever hissed.
After about an hour my parents couldn't take anymore so they went back upstairs to lie down and I stayed with Pinky in my room trying to cover him with a fleece blanket, trying to keep him warm, comfortable. He struggled to his feet and tried to walk to my bed to hide under it but couldn't make it. I finally got him settled in his little bed that I put on the chair in my room and he half jumped and half fell onto the floor and collapsed a few feet from the chair. He did this twice and the second time I left him on the floor. It's cold but carpeted and maybe he can breathe better on the floor. I don't know. But after about 30 minutes his breathing, which had been coming in rapid little gurgling gasps, starts to even out and he starts to close his eyes as if to sleep. I very gently pick him up again and put him back in his little bed on the chair and he's been there ever since, still holding on.
I thought he was gone a couple of times and I was almost relieved because it was so horrible to watch that precious, beautiful little being suffer so much. But he's still hanging on, curled up quietly now in his little bed. Too weak to lift his head but not suffering as much as he was.
Now that my attention is not on his gasping breathing anymore I start to think about how terribly I'm going to miss him. How dependent upon him I've become over the years without realizing it. I don't often miss people or animals when their gone. At least not enough to make me suffer. But I know this is going to be very different. I've grown dependent upon his loving, affectionate nature. I've come to depend on the joy and peace he fills my heart and mind with every day. If I'm in my room and the door's closed he'll sit right outside with his nose pressed up against it waiting patiently until I open it so he can come in for cuddles. He does this day and night. He does this when I'm not even home. We take our afternoon naps together and he sleeps as close to my face as he can and I smell the top of his wee head because he always smells good and different every day. Sometimes he smells like cinnamon, or cardamom, or coconut sunscreen, or coffee, or perfume, or just warm cat.
It's after 9:00pm now and he's been holding on to dear life for more than 12 hours. Maybe he'll make it through the night and we'll be able to get him to the vet tomorrow and everything will be all right. See, this is how things get agonizing. Being stuck in this limbo of hope and dread. I was okay when I thought he was minutes away from death. I knew what to feel. I knew how to let him go. But now that he's lingering (maybe rallying...?) I have time to think about how much I'm going to miss him, his personality, his presence, his love and warmth. And I have time to start hoping, which is the worst.
He's not 'me'. He's not 'mine'. He's not 'ours'. He's a 'cat'. His life is impermanent and right now he suffers. That's the truth. That's the way it is. This is what happens in this world.
Okay. I feel better now. I'll be in a healthier frame of mind to comfort my parents. Thanks for listening.
This is what happened:
I found blood on the kitchen floor and in one of the cat food dishes this morning. Big drops and a few puddles and what looked like tissue or maybe a blood clot. Both of my parents were napping upstairs so I went up there to make sure they hadn't cut themselves or something. They were awake and fine and so were 3 of our 4 cats. But there was more blood on the stairs and then I discovered blood stains all over the bedding in the spare bedroom, on the carpet, the wall.
By this point I knew it must be wee, sweet Pinky. He came to us out of the blue a few years ago, appearing at the kitchen window right beside my father's chair. What I'm about to say next may sound like exaggeration but it's not. This cat was the most loving, affectionate, good-natured, sociable, sweet-tempered cat we've ever known. He must have been the runt of his litter and was probably born in the barn of one of our farming neighbours because he was not a well-cared-for cat when he came to us. Small, blond (but pinkish in the sun), dirty, patchy furred, snot nosed, one-eyed (we thought at first) and just rough and sick looking in general. He had a raspy little meow and sometimes he would try to meow but nothing would come out. But as soon as we laid eyes on him we fell in love because his personality was utterly adorable. He didn't hear very well and he appeared to be a little on the dumb side and that made him all the more endearing to us. He had somehow learned excellent social skills because after we brought him home from the vet he made friends with the other cats in record time displaying submission exactly when appropriate.
He had some health problems which is par for the course with barn cats. The first issue we dealt with was his left eye. It was swollen shut and appeared painful. The vet operated as soon as Pinky was up to it and his eye was as good as new in a matter of a couple of weeks. He became an indoor cat like all our other cats and has never tried to get out. He began grooming himself with gusto and his coat grew in beautifully and fully, thick and healthy. He bathed himself fastidiously, more so than any of the others, maybe because he knew what it was like not to able to enjoy the luxury of it when he was trying to survive outside.
The bigger health issues were his chronic sinus infection and pneumonitus (sp?) which is basically poor lung function due to disease. He would sometimes go into coughing fits that sounded horrible, not at all like the usual 'passing of the fur ball'. But there was nothing that we could do about these chronic conditions other than keep him as healthy as possible and bring him to the vet when he worsened for some antibiotics and intravenous liquids. He sneezed a lot and I was often amazed at how such a little head could contain so much snot. In general though he was living a pretty healthy, active, and happy life with us and our other 4 cats.
For the past 5 years he's been our joy. When strangers come to the door the other cats always run and hide but not Pinky. He would go right up to the stranger (propane guy, plumber, satellite TV guy, whoever), crawl up their pant leg and when he got picked up (they always picked him up) he'd purr and drool and squirm blissfully in their arms. Did I mention he loved people? Everyone fell in love with Pinky. Everyone. When he was in my arms it was like being given a really good tranquilizer. He made my brain release floods of endorphins for some reason and he had the same effect on everyone else.
Flash forward to this morning, blood all around the house, too much blood to be a shrew or mouse 'present' from anyone. I'm upstairs getting a little frantic knowing there was something terribly wrong with Pinky and not knowing where he was. He could be hiding under a bed. He could have crawled into any inaccessible-to-humans space to die. My big orange tabby Tom was standing on the top step and I asked him where Pinky was and he very clearly turned his head and looked downstairs into the parlour where the green chairs are. So down I went and sure enough there was Pinky, under one of the green chairs, his nose and mouth covered in thick, red blood, and he was panting, gurgling, struggling to breathe. The blood was still pouring out of him and we got some towels to put underneath him but he got up slowly and sort of staggered into my room which is on the first floor a few yards from where he had been lying.
I was desperate to get him to the vet but the first snowstorm of the season started this morning and we couldn't get out with our little car even though the vet is just 10 minutes from our house. I begged my mother to call around to our neighbours to see if anyone could come with their SUV but nobody could. We called the vet to see if there was anyone there who could come and pick him up but there wasn't.
So there we all were, in my room, my mother and I lying on the floor around Pinky and my father in the chair and there was nothing we could do for him. He'd lost so much blood he was weak and dehydrated and still bleeding from the nose. We were thinking maybe his lungs finally gave out because he was having such difficulty breathing and there was so much gurgling coming from his lungs. It was almost unbearable to watch. The three of us are sitting there watching our precious, beloved little Pinky dying this slow, painful, horrible death right in front of our eyes and there's nothing we can do for him. We're trapped in the house, the snow is blowing, the wind is howling, and my mother's frantic. She wants to hold him, clean the drying globs of blood off his nose and mouth, but he hisses, he doesn't want to be touched. That's the first time he's ever hissed.
After about an hour my parents couldn't take anymore so they went back upstairs to lie down and I stayed with Pinky in my room trying to cover him with a fleece blanket, trying to keep him warm, comfortable. He struggled to his feet and tried to walk to my bed to hide under it but couldn't make it. I finally got him settled in his little bed that I put on the chair in my room and he half jumped and half fell onto the floor and collapsed a few feet from the chair. He did this twice and the second time I left him on the floor. It's cold but carpeted and maybe he can breathe better on the floor. I don't know. But after about 30 minutes his breathing, which had been coming in rapid little gurgling gasps, starts to even out and he starts to close his eyes as if to sleep. I very gently pick him up again and put him back in his little bed on the chair and he's been there ever since, still holding on.
I thought he was gone a couple of times and I was almost relieved because it was so horrible to watch that precious, beautiful little being suffer so much. But he's still hanging on, curled up quietly now in his little bed. Too weak to lift his head but not suffering as much as he was.
Now that my attention is not on his gasping breathing anymore I start to think about how terribly I'm going to miss him. How dependent upon him I've become over the years without realizing it. I don't often miss people or animals when their gone. At least not enough to make me suffer. But I know this is going to be very different. I've grown dependent upon his loving, affectionate nature. I've come to depend on the joy and peace he fills my heart and mind with every day. If I'm in my room and the door's closed he'll sit right outside with his nose pressed up against it waiting patiently until I open it so he can come in for cuddles. He does this day and night. He does this when I'm not even home. We take our afternoon naps together and he sleeps as close to my face as he can and I smell the top of his wee head because he always smells good and different every day. Sometimes he smells like cinnamon, or cardamom, or coconut sunscreen, or coffee, or perfume, or just warm cat.
It's after 9:00pm now and he's been holding on to dear life for more than 12 hours. Maybe he'll make it through the night and we'll be able to get him to the vet tomorrow and everything will be all right. See, this is how things get agonizing. Being stuck in this limbo of hope and dread. I was okay when I thought he was minutes away from death. I knew what to feel. I knew how to let him go. But now that he's lingering (maybe rallying...?) I have time to think about how much I'm going to miss him, his personality, his presence, his love and warmth. And I have time to start hoping, which is the worst.
He's not 'me'. He's not 'mine'. He's not 'ours'. He's a 'cat'. His life is impermanent and right now he suffers. That's the truth. That's the way it is. This is what happens in this world.
Okay. I feel better now. I'll be in a healthier frame of mind to comfort my parents. Thanks for listening.
0
Comments
I keep some tire chains around. They can be handy for times like this.
I'm kinda surprised you don't know anybody with 4 wheel drive who is willing to help. If you're really desperate, maybe posting this on Craigslist would help you find somebody, if it's not too late to get him to the vet.
What a beautiful life you gave him, and he gave you. I am truly happy that each of you were so gifted.
Namaste
for you, your parents, and peace, to Pinky.
Lots of love to you and your little friend Pinky.
Dazz xxx
Pinky is still holding on like the tough little survivor he is. He is now at the vet's and she is doing everything she can to keep him alive and well. She thinks it's his sinuses but we'll have to wait until more tests are done.
I'm feeling ridiculous for making such a fuss over one cat and I don't know what the hell is wrong with me. Just when I thought the death of others was something I was getting good at dealing with my mind goes into a tailspin over my attachment to one little creature. If you could feel my heart you'd think I'd lost my whole family. Clearly there are issues of attachment to be dealt with here. The Dhamma doesn't usually desert me in times of challenge but for some reason everything I've practiced and learned, the experiential understanding I usually draw upon, seems somewhat cloudy right now, as if the cure I've come to know is blocked. It's probably just my over emotionality right now and I'm sure when I calm down I'll be able to see reality again.
I spent a really stressful night keeping watch over him, making sure he was still breathing, expecting him to die at any moment. Earlier in the day when he was really suffering, struggling for each breath with his wee nose and mouth just covered in blood, I was able to give my head a shake and accept that he was going to die. I was okay with it, hurting and sad, but healthy about it. But when he started to rally and my hope was reignited it came with this fear and desperation for him not to leave us yet, to keep giving us all the joy and love and peace he brings. All my selfishness came out and I reverted to old habits of thinking.
And now I've created this big deal in my mind over Pinky but I know it's more than Pinky. It's like a reality check telling me I haven't been vigilant in my practice, I haven't been living the truth of impermanence, unsatisfactoriness, and not-self. I haven't been preparing for letting go. I've become lazy and allowed the world to sneak back in to try to drown me again.
So, true to form, Pinky has given me more than just love and joy and peace and I have no choice but to rise to the challenge again and find my way back to the Dhamma. Such a little guy so full of heart, always up for a cuddle, always there waiting at my door. I'm going to have to let him go sometime so I better get back on track and do it properly.
Thanks for understanding and allowing me to fall to pieces over something that some people would think was ridiculous. I guess we just never know who our teachers are going to be.
Hi, I am very new to the practice of the Dhamma, but there is one thing I know is that sometimes when we can't depend on human beings for compassion our animal friends will always be there for us. I have had many pets in the past I know it is hard to see them when they grow ill. But, sometimes all it takes is a little warmth and compassion to see them through a tough time. I went to the dhamma recently also I couldn't figure out why I was so down on myself all the time. This site is packed full of good people with very down to earth qualities and I am glad I joined.
Jeremy
Isn't samsara great? NOT!
Palzang
Perhaps, we are surprised by strong emotions that crop up during a crisis, because we haven’t so much seen through these emotions and settled them, once and for all, as we have very efficiently put them to sleep.
I know that I was very surprised when my dad died. I think partly because we were best friends. Closeness although wonderful, does seem to set us up. (Yet, every precious moment of this closeness makes our pain worth it.)
I was 13 years old, and because as long as I could remember, (my dad had been very, very sick for years with MS), my mom had reminded my sister and myself every night at bedtime, to pray for my father to die. You would think I would be ready, wouldn't you?
But, it seems that no matter how well we prepare our selves for it, death seems to be a real surprise, a shocker to the max. I suffered greatly.
You might think to yourself that it was because I was so young, that I was not emotionally prepared. But, no. Age seems to be no barrior to this kind of suffering.
I think it is in the '3 Pillar of Zen' (book) that Roshi Phillip Kapleau admits to having great emotion storms on finding him self so very sick, in pain, and in the hospital. He too thought that he had conquered these feelings.
I hope your good friend and teacher, Pinky, get well soon. Cats are good people. : ^ )
Peace,
S9
Pinky is alive and well and on the mend!!
I don't know what the vet did exactly, but she operated (his neck is shaved and there's a scar on his throat) and he now seems healthier than ever. He's able to lift his head and look up at us when he's sitting on the floor, something he rarely did before probably because it was uncomfortable for him in some way. Maybe it triggered his sneezing reflex (he has a chronic sinus infection) or maybe it was just painful. Whatever was causing it is gone, at least for now and I can't express the joy I feel when he looks up at me with his wee open face.
The vet did blood work and it turns out he has an immune deficiency disease, I think it might be the feline version of AIDS. I'm not sure because I got the info second hand through my mum and she was a bit vague about the details. The vet said Pinky was born with the disease which explains his sinus problems (he sneezes a lot and all over the place and it's often slightly bloody) and his size. He's just a little guy. He has a little nose too and you can see by his profile that it's not as long as our other cats' noses. It makes for a very cute profile but not so cute problems for him.
Since he's been home he's been different. He's happier, more rambunctious, hungrier, cuddlier, more loving (if that's possible), and he doesn't sleep as much. There's been no blood at all in his snot and he didn't even sneeze at all for the first two days back. He's breathing SO much better and he's barely left my side since he got home. He's either cuddling with me, trying to come between me and my laptop, sleeping on my lap or in his little bed in my room, or in my arms. He's even more insistent that I hold him and will even lift his arms up like a little kid asking to be lifted up. This morning he was rolling around in a sun beam on the floor in the funniest way, like a crazy kitten, and he had me laughing hilariously.
He's a very lovable little guy. My theory is that he became this way in order to survive because he was born sick and small. Maybe it was nature's way of making him endearing to humans so they'd take care of him. Just a theory. But when my mum picked him at the vet everyone came out to say good bye to him and told my mum that they all fell in love with him and hated to see him go.
The disease will kill him eventually, the vet said, but we don't know when that will be. It could be weeks, or months. Maybe even years. So other than the sinus infection he's pretty much in the same boat as all other living beings. I'm going to love and protect him for as long as he lives and keep preparing myself for the inevitable. Seeing him so happy and healthy is making it easier for me to let go because I can comfort myself with the fact that we gave him a happy, comfortable life full of love and appreciation.
Now for the kicker: My papa fell in the kitchen yesterday and broke his shoulder while bringing wood in for the wood stove. He's 77, a diabetic with a heart condition, and a big man; over 6 feet and weighing around 260 pounds. My mum and I couldn't get him up off the kitchen floor so I made him as comfortable as possible while we waited for the ambulance by putting cushions under his head, neck, and knees and fashioned a makeshift sling to keep his arm at a right angle close to his body. He was in absolute agony lying there. He's in the hospital in the city (over an hour's drive) and he's in surgery right now. They're probably going to have to put a pin in his shoulder because the bone is broken right through.
Now here's where it gets a bit odd. I was much calmer and way more in control with my papa's crisis than with Pinky's. Granted there was a lot of blood with Pinky and I thought he was dying. There was also the added frustration of not being able to get him to the vet because of the snowstorm. But still. Why was I so much more upset about Pinky's suffering than my papa's? I'm not worried about my papa at all. I'm grateful he didn't fall at the top of the stairs because we'd be planning his funeral right now. I'm also grateful it was his shoulder (his right one, but still...) and not his hip again (fell on the ice 10 years ago and broke his hip) or a leg. At least he'll be able to walk around. I also know how to help him with pain and I know how to keep his and my mum's spirits up. So maybe part of my being so okay with it is because I know how to help my papa and have nursed him back to health before (he nearly died from heart failure 7 years ago which was why I moved back here, to help my mum with him).
In any case, I have an abundance of practice opportunity at the moment and I'm taking advantage of every bit of it. The most urgent part of it is my attachment issues to Pinky and animals in general and my delusion issues with their suffering. I know I'm assigning attributes to animals that don't really exist and I know I'm imagining their suffering to by much worse than it is. They can't tell me how much they're suffering so I'm filling in the blanks with deeper and darker delusions of it. I don't know why. There are other things with animals that are complicating the issues so I have my work cut out for me.
Amongst other things, I'm watching a lot of animal rescue shows on Animal Planet network on TV where they follow various Humane Societies while they work to rescue abused and neglected animals. I'm also listening to a lot of Dhamma talks by Ajahn Viradhammo, the abbot of Tisarana monastery in Perth, Ontario. He studied with Ajahn Chah and the his style of teaching penetrates my mind very quickly and effectively. It's helping immensely.
So that's it for now. I won't be around much until my papa comes home because I'm on dial-up and we only have the one phone line. We have to keep it free in case the hospital calls or other family members call and so forth.
These challenges are just what I needed to kick start my practice and I'm saturating myself with Dhamma.
Thank you guys so much for your lovingkindness and empathy. Every time I need support you're always there and I'm more grateful than words can say.
((((Thank you))))
Thank you, dearest Palzang!
Bless your hearts!
My guess is, with Pinky, you see him as your little child. So, all of your maternal instincts are in over drive. You are mommy. ; ^ )
I am sure you love your dad dearly, just differently. He is an adult, and daddy. This is a reverse in roles.
Peace,
S9
The last pet I encountered was run over and I had to carry it's body to the side of the road. It had no collar on so I could not inform anyone. It seemed to be purring when I stroked it even though it had probably taken a lot of damage on its body.
The katrina pet footage always gets me too. It seems to put life in perspective sometimes.
(Can we get a pic of pinky plz Brigid?)
BTW, we're getting absolutely buried here in snow. I think I'm turning Canadian!
Palzang
Palzang, we've got snow here in the Uk too !
Kind wishes,
Dazzle
It's funny, if it would have been a nice day today I would have been perfectly happy to stay home and catch up on stuff. However, since I'm stuck at home watching it snow, I really want to go somewhere! Humans are such weird creatures...
Maybe I'll get a cat.
Palzang
Someone said, “We don’t live in the world, we live I comparisons.”
So, here is a solution for your wander-lust.
Take off all of your clothes, and go out and sit in the snow ‘bare-as-a-baby’ for 10 minutes. When you come back in, teeth all chattering, you will feel like you are entering heaven. Smile!
S9
I was out tho, shoveling the white stuff (someone called it snow). All I got for my efforts was a sore back...
Palza **ouch** ng
Lots of snow here too. I love it! But I don't really love the cost of getting it removed from our lane all the time. Well then, I guess Christmas has come early for you!
I once heard a story of a Bodhisattva, she would even go into the deepest hells to save beings, even animals from suffering. (a fuss over one cat)
You are very close to this, but you have attachment(s)
I have a cat, my best friend for the past 12-13 years, we are very close. When he comes home with injuries, I get panicky. I feel I am very attached to him and I know this attachment will end up causing me suffering. What will we do about it?
But this thing with Pinky has clearly shown me that other emotions we think of as positive actually cause suffering too, often particularly uncomfortable suffering. Like hope, for example. Once I had resigned myself to the fact that Pinky was going to die and there was nothing I could do about it the acceptance brought with it a sense of peace. My mind calmed down immediately and I was able to behave in a way that was beneficial not only to myself and Pinky but to my parents as well, who were also suffering terribly.
But when it became apparent that Pinky wasn't going to go without a fight, when he started to rally, a kind of panic gripped me. I saw in front of me some hope that could be taken away. It was like being in a state of limbo, like having one foot on the dock, one foot on the boat, and the boat was starting to drift away. A terrible in-between feeling.
There are so many layers to suffering and so many surprises. I wouldn't have been aware of them if I didn't have the Dhamma teaching me to look more closely at my mind. Life is a far more interesting and fulfilling journey with the Dhamma.
A few years ago I started jokingly calling myself 'mummy' when talking to the cats. I say jokingly because I would never have done something like that in seriousness. I used to think it was silly to think of your pets as your children. I still do. Especially dogs because you can't treat dogs like you treat human children. It just doesn't work. They're dogs, they're happy being dogs, and they need us to treat them like dogs, keeping things simple and understandable to them as dogs.
But cats are not the same. There are different subtleties there and their personalities are so varied. They don't depend on us for the same things dogs do, like training and walking them and so forth. (Cats need discipline of course and they need to be taught the rules of the house, but not as much as dogs do.)
So I started to call myself 'mummy' as a joke but it stuck. And of course the more I did it the more I identified with it and the more attached I became to them in a maternal way. I was reinforcing my eventual suffering through my current behavior. I still do it. It's become an integral part of the way I interact with them.
What I have to do is balance it out. I have to keep reminding myself what the reality is: I'm not their mummy and they are not 'mine'. We are simply fellow beings who have come to inhabit the same space. There is an implicit conventional agreement between us that I will feed and take care of them and we will share warmth and affection with each other. I will do everything I can to make their lives as comfortable and fulfilling as possible and they will eventually die at which time I will have to let them go in as healthy a way as possible so I don't inflict myself, my parents, or the cats, with unnecessary suffering.
I have to be more vigilant because, as I've been reminded recently, it's very, very easy to fall back into old habits of thinking and seeing the world. As a beginner to Buddhism I've only got a tenuous grip on the Dhamma and the Truth it points to. It's not nearly as embedded in my consciousness as I want it to be and it's going to take a lot more effort on my part to make it so.
That doesn't mean that we can't allow ourselves to feel empathy for them and grief when they leave us. It just means that those emotions have to be balanced by our acceptance of reality. And as this thread shows, for me it's so much easier said than done. I hope it's easier for you.
Love & Peace
Joe
Palzang
I am an avid cat-lover myself and really feel for you and Pinky. I too hope he pulls through! Reading your story was not easy, the poor little guy suffering as much as he did. I've been there, seeing a beloved cat slowly fade away, just thinking about it can make me feel really sad, no words to describe it.
Btw, and I mean this well, but seriously was there no way to get to the vet? I'd probably go out by foot if necessary, but out in the cold could not be much better I guess, risking pneumonia is not going to help matters either.
Some people don't understand the bond (wo)man & animal can have, but I am glad to see all of us here do. I too know this connection can be as real as a human one, and hope things will pick up for Pinky and all of you.
All the best!
It's absolutely wonderful to hear about the dedication to service some young people have. You go, Joe! You change the world for the better just by being alive.
Pinky's still with us but he's back to his usual chronically sneezing self. The kittenish behaviour isn't as apparent anymore but he still has his moments. Sometimes when he gets excited he gallops through the parlour and kitchen and makes a surprising amount of noise for someone so little. He's curled up in a little furry circle asleep on my bed as I write this and my big orange tabby Tom is lying beside me too. They're keeping me warm and cozy.
I know what you mean about how crazy it seems not to be able to get out of the house to the vets. It was very frustrating. I was thinking a big SUV could make it up our long lane but there was no way we were going to make it through the snow with our little car. We would just have gotten stuck and been in more trouble. It wasn't the cold that was the problem. We're used to the cold and have the right clothes to protect ourselves. It was the snow. The first storm of the season is usually a pretty big one and there was a good 2 1/2 to 3 feet of snow and ice covering the lane. The road at the bottom of the lane was just as bad because the snow plows hadn't come by yet. So our only chance was getting someone who either had a big truck with big wheels or an SUV to come to our rescue and we only know of a few people around here who have a suitable vehicle. Our neighbour who lives a half mile from us was taking care of a sick child so he just couldn't help us and no one else could either. We were right and truly stuck. Our neighbours do so much for us so this was a rarity and the storm just made things impossible. But as you've read, it all worked out in the end, thank goodness.
This is one of the major reasons why we're selling our farm and moving into town. We're just too isolated out here and since my papa fell while bringing wood into the kitchen for the wood stove a week before Christmas the problem has really hit home. His shoulder was broken and he had to spend all of Christmas and New Year in the hospital. A good 6 weeks. He was transferred back and forth from the hospital in town here to the hospital in Ottawa which is over an hour away because he had surgery in Ottawa to replace his shoulder. My poor mum had to do a lot of driving on dangerous roads over the holidays and the whole thing would have been much easier if we were living in town. As it is, our local hospital is about a 30 minute drive from here during the winter but only about a 10 minute drive if we were living in town.
So we're all fine and my papa is on the mend and glad to be back home. We're in the process of selling the property and finding a suitable place in town and I've very excited. It was terribly hard at first to entertain the thought of leaving this little paradise but I've had a few years to get used to the idea and I'm looking forward to having a safer, less isolated place for my parents and me. A little bungalow with a finished basement is what we're looking for and I can't wait to start over fresh. I love a new start!
Love & Peace
Joe
When I was a little kid, I was told that there were angels (with wing and halos) in this world, and that they had been sent down to help us humans, because we surely needed it.
I ran into some really nice people along the way, but never a real authentic angel, that is until I came to realize that the angels of innocence and unconditional love were actually dressed in little fur suits.
Smiles,
S9
Metta to all santient beings, and of course lickle Pinky.
Nios.
Love & Peace
Joe
The other day, on the TV, I heard a curious story. It was about a cat, which lived in a nursing home since its kitten-hood. It seems this particular kitty could tell when one of the oldsters was going to die, pretty accurately.
Kitty would get up on their bed and lay down beside them in order to comfort them, until they were gone.
It seems that Kitty never got on any one else’s beds in this way, b/4 hand. I think it was probably against the rules. But who, with any heart could deny anyone this comfort towards the end?
Seems after a while kitty proved to be sooo accurate that the nursing home staff started alerting the family days b/4 hand, on kitty’s say/so that their family member was going to pass and they should come now if they wanted a last visit.
Spooky stuff…
But, oh so sweet at the same time.
How do you think these little angels (in fur pajamas) know these things?
(That is if we humans are so dog-gone clever compared to them?) NOT! ; ^ )
Looking confused,
S9
Love & Peace
Joe
One day as I opened my auto gate she jumped through and got caught between the gaps. She was unable to clear as she was pregnant. Fortunately I stopped the autogate in time or she would have been crushed to death! I got a helpful neighbour to lift the heavy gates out of its railings and released the cat.
The mother cat was not seriously injured and even managed to have a new litter in my garden. I thought after such a horrific experience she would have gone away.
The kittens were very cute and was a source of joy for my daughter as the grew up.
One day as I drove to work I heard the sound of kittens coming from my car and thought I was imagining things. Every time I stopped my car the sound disappeared. Eventually I stopped by the roadside and found the 3 kittens in the engine compartment. Apparently the mother cat put the kittens there to give them warmth from the engine.
I managed to rescue 2 of them but there was one not reachable. I resolved to drive to the nearest car workshop to open the engine compartment. I was stuck in a traffic jam and each time the car moved the kitten would screech. The experience was horrible and I kept sending metta to the kitten.
As I reached the workshop the screeching stopped. The man at the workshop opened the bottom of the engine housing and the lifeless body of the kitten rolled down.
I consoled myself that I had done all that can be done to save the kitten but this is samsara. Nothing is certain and this is the way it is. Just do our best and let go. I practised sending metta to the dead kitten.." May you be free from suffering, may you have a good rebirth.... "
I got to the office late on that day. That morning an old frail client of mine was wheeled into my office by her daughter for her routine checkup. The daughter remarked that her mother was "seeing things" and the old lady told me she saw a cat in the waiting room outside! I went to check and saw no cat.
This experience only strengthened my confidence in the Buddha and Dhamma. The mother cat still lives in my garden. The other kittens have grown up and have gone away.
I am expecting a new litter any time soon.
Love & Peace
Joe