So,
Skyler and I had a loss not too long after we got back from Europe. I
thought I had already written about it, but I couldn't find an entry.
Bagheera unexpectedly died about a week after we got back. He was
four. Dad had been coming over to see him about every other day while
we were gone. I know Bagheera missed us. He was at the apartment by
himself. Bellster was staying with my parents. I just feel so shitty
about having him here by himself, even if he did have Dad visiting
him. Anyway, about a week after we had been back, I was working out
to one of my Jillian Michaels DVDs. Bagheera was running around being
his crazy self. I remember he ran into our closet and I thought he
had maybe found a comfortable spot in there somewhere because it got
very quiet. After my workout, I washed my face and was in the
bathroom for awhile doing my face cleansing routine. When I got out,
I realized something was different. It was very quiet. Bagheera was
usually waiting right outside the bathroom door for me, or at least a
few feet away laying on the floor. When I walked into our bedroom, I
saw him. He was lying between the face of our dresser and the door of
our closet (our dresser was inside of the closet). He was lying on
his back with his feet in the air. He appeared to be looking at
something at the ceiling and his hips were twisted funny. I talked
and nudged him but he didn't move or blink. That's when I called
Skyler upstairs and he pulled Bagheera out of the closet. Bodily
liquids oozed out of Bagheera's behind as Skyler pulled him across
the carpet. I couldn't watch. I was in the bathroom, just huffing and
puffing. We called the emergency vet down the street and they talked
us through what to do. When nothing they suggested seemed to be
working, they told us to bring him in. Skyler carried Bagheera like a
baby all the way down to the car garage. He held him while I drove.
They tried to resuscitate him several times, but to no avail.
Bagheera was gone. Skyler had the choice of seeing Bagheera one last
time before they put him away. I was shocked when he said he needed
to say goodbye to him. I wanted to remember Bagheera the way he was
supposed to be remembered—alive. They brought Bagheera in wrapped
in a pink towel. His head drooped. He was dead. They left us for
awhile and Skyler cried and cried. I couldn't cry. I was too much
in shock. There was no explanation for it. They said nothing appeared
to be broken or wrong for them to pinpoint what exactly happened. So,
they suggested it was because of his heart. Some cats have heart
conditions where there are no signs or symptoms that anything is
wrong. I couldn't help but think, though, that since Bagheera was
malnourished and ridded with parasites as a kitten before we saved
him, that maybe that had something to do with his growth and overall
health. He was a tiny kitty, even as an adult.
I
think Bellster was depressed for a little while after, even though
she and Bagheera never really got along all that well. They tolerated
each other, and they kept one another company by just being. She went
looking for him and thought she saw him in the glass of our porch
door. Her tail shot up in greeting, but as she walked closer, she
realized it was only her reflection in the glass. It was a very sad
week. We had Bagheera cremated and got a paw print. It sounds silly
to be so sad over a cat, it really does. Animals aren't people. But
God, they are so much a part of our lives, that they might as well
be. But Bagheera was like our baby. We adopted him when we started
dating. He was ours. And although he was a handful—by peeing on the
couch CONSTANTLY in Milwaukee (we ended up throwing it out in the
dump) or pooping randomly on the floor for no apparent reason (we put
tarp down on the floor)--he was still a part of our lives. And, he
had his sweet kitty moments, er, maybe quirks. He'd sit on my lap
while I was on the toilet. He'd sleep on Skyler's printer only when
it was on. He would never truly get snuggly with you, but he'd kneed
my stomach with his tiny paws and stomp up and down all over my boobs
in the middle of the night. He could not sit still. I felt like I was
his momma and he was my baby. He'd always sit behind Skyler's little
Lakewood fan, every time we turned it on. That fan was with us since
the beginning, and when Skyler was still living in the apartment on
Bartlett, he had Bagheera in his small bedroom with all his stuff. It
was cramped, and Bagheera would have to find comfort in small and
unusual places. That little Lakewood fan would be on the floor or on
Skyler's desk, and Bagheera would lay behind it, pigeon style (when
cats tuck all their feet under them).
So,
after a few days of crying and missing work, we decided to look
around at shelters for a new furry friend for Bellster. I think
mostly, though, we needed a distraction. We went to several places
around town before we went to the humane society and found Bruce.
Bruce was a surrender kitty with his sister because the previous
owners had a daughter with allergies. His name was Monte, but we had
to change it. We couldn't adopt his sister, of course, because two
cats were enough in our apartment. He wasn't even in the same cage as
his sister. He's grey, with about as much fur as Bellster (super
furry), a wolf-like face, and a long neck. He's so much like
Bagheera, it's crazy. Except he doesn't pee or poop on things that
he shouldn't. He doesn't bite, he's declawed in the front, and he's
very, very playful. He's three years old. It took Bellster and Bruce
awhile to get used to one another, and it's still a bit tense now and
then. Bagheera had an annoying territorial issue where he would chase
Bellster out of our bedroom if she ever came in there. He would chase
her down the stairs until she threw herself back under the couch or
up on her chair. He'd give her the death stare. Bruce hissed at her
for a long time, but he hasn't done that for awhile. In fact, she's
on the bed next to me right now. She's getting more and more
comfortable being up here.
So,
yes, I miss Bagheera tremendously. I feel like we've disowned him
even though there was nothing we could do. I can't help but feel
guilty about our time in Europe, and how he was at home holding our
fort down. I'm happy Bruce has some quirks and characteristics that
are very similar to Bagheera's.
Okay,
I have to write about something positive now. I have been working out
for a long, long time now, as a routine, I mean. I don't work out
just one or two times a week and forget about it until the following
week. I work out about 5-6 times a week, 30-45 minutes each time. I
look awesome. I gained about four pounds after getting back from
Europe—I weighed 158 when I got back. After a few months of
following Jillian's Body Revolution DVDs, I lost that weight again,
and now I'm back down to 158. It's weird, though, because I feel like
it should be much lower than that. I had to buy a smaller size jeans
the other day because the ones I had were falling off my ass at work!
I'm a size 8 now. So, I'm slimmer, but can't seem to weigh less than
158. But, I won't complain. It's been rough. I worked hard. My
heaviest, as I've mentioned before was 174 in summer of 2011. So,
although it's taken me two years to lose 16 pounds, I could be 16
pounds heavier if I hadn't been working out/eating better.
I
don't have a problem working out. Finding the time, of course, is
always the issue. I usually have to sacrifice extra time with Skyler,
or reading my book, or even writing in my journal. Working out takes
awhile. I have to wind down after getting back from work, first. Then
my work out takes 30-45 minutes. Then I have to lay there for like 15
minutes just marinating in my success before I jump in the shower.
Eating
well is what I'm not all that great at. I can eat fruit, veggies,
sure. I don't even care much for beef, or much meat for that matter.
I can be completely healthy, except when there's a package of Oreo's
in the kitchen, I will know about it, and I will take full
responsibility for their wellbeing. In other words, I gobble them up.
I can't stop after one, two, or even three cookies. I might give it
ten minutes and try to forget that they're there, but it's like a
sticky note in my head that screams, “COOOOKIIIEEEES.” So, I eat
them all between the course of 36 hours. Once they're gone, I'm fine,
of course. I'm more well off without those damn cookies. And it's not
just Oreo's. Any cookie will suit me just fine. So, when I wonder why
I haven't lost more than 16 pounds, it's probably because of those
cookies that keep making their way back into my life.
But,
progress is progress. And, despite those cookies, I'm back into a
size 8. Hooray!
This has made me very happy already. My chest feels so heavy
when I haven't written for awhile. There's so much that could be said
but there is so little time. I feel as though a boulder has already
been lifted from me.
One
of these days I will go back and read through all of my journals. Even if
it's heartbreaking to read through the tougher entries during times
of adolescence and painful family events. My journals are a part of
me. I can't forget where I've been and how I've gotten from there to
where I am now. I won't forget.
