goodbye, friends

My friend S (not the S I dated last year) lost her dog two days ago, thirteen days after Emily’s passing. I cried when I read S’s blog entry, and I wasn’t sure I was crying for her, for me, for Emily, or for her sweet 12-year pup. He was such a smart guy, and she loved him dearly. My favorite trick that she taught him was that she would hold up a certain number of fingers and he would bark that number of times.

All of our companion animals give a special kind of love. They don’t ask us for much - just love, food, that we look out for their health, play with them, give them a warm and comfortable place to live. They give us so much in return: company that doesn’t ask us questions, doesn’t care if we’ve gained weight or haven’t showered, and loves us no matter what mistakes we’ve made. My heart breaks for S right now, because I know how hard this is. Not a day goes by that I don’t notice Emily’s absence. For ten years she slept on my bed nightly and was by my side every minute that I was home. People think I’m so social and fit in really well, but it’s Emily I felt most comfortable with. What makes me saddest for S is that I know she’s the same way. She looks tough on the outside, seems extraverted too, but I know her dog meant the world to her and was the only one she really trusted.

I don’t know if that says positive or negative things about people like us. We relate to people all right. From the outside we look like we do ok, but there are some of us who would just rather be home with an animal than out with people. I wish I could meet someone who could meet that need in my life, and a few times I have (though not to the exclusion of my animals; I’ve always needed them too). But the humans always fail me in some way, or I fail them, and it ends. The animals don’t. Death is not a failure. The goodbye is heartbreaking, but it’s not the same. Dogs and cats are always perfect friends.

a dog’s life?

In my house we always said that the best reincarnation would be as a pet in a Jewish household. My parents treat their dogs like children. Maddie didn’t like sleeping in a crate and got her own bed — mine! When I’d stay the night, I’d have to share with her. (Well, I liked to. My brother would have taken her had I not wanted the company.) Mom always spoiled Emily and Charlotte with cat treats when she came to visit, just like a good bubbe. (I only give my cats treats after they have their nails cut or get bathed or something else unpleasant that I want them to associate a reward at the end.) With Maddie, the no-dogs-on-the-furniture did not last long. They didn’t want to start that tradition with Gracie, so she has her own pillow in the living room. And it doesn’t quite stop her from spending time on the couch either.

Apparently Rabbi Lazer Brody disagrees with us. He says that slanderers get reincarnated as dogs. Sam at Xyre has an analysis on Judaism, reincarnation, and Brody’s silly idea.

Parking for the Birds

I went to the Sox/Orioles game last night. Tonight Manny hit his 500th home run. I’m glad he did it, kind of disappointed that not only was I not at the game when I have been at four Sox games (two in Baltimore, two in Boston) since he was on #498, I have tickets to Monday’s game, and I was blacked out from watching the game because it’s in my home market.

That’s just luck of the draw, though. He could have easily done it last night. He had plenty of chances, with 13 innings, and saw the same pitcher he hit it off tonight. So I’m just a little disappointed, not annoyed. No, my annoyance regarding the Orioles is something else: lack of public transportation.

Boston does it right. Fenway is blocks away from the T, and just about everyone takes the T to get there. A friend of mine had to drive to the game a few weeks ago to meet me, and she got stuck in traffic and didn’t make it to the second. The message: don’t drive here. You can take the T to the TD Banknorth Center for a Bruins or Celtics game.

DC does it right. The new Nationals stadium is right on a metro line, and the Verizon Center is at the crossroads of three metro lines. Get people in and out of there easily.

The New York sports teams are the enemy teams of all of my favorite teams, but I have to admit that that city does its sports stadiums right. Shea Stadium and Yankee Stadium are both on subway lines. Madison Square Garden is right downtown.

The biggest problem with public transportation to get to a baseball, basketball, or hockey game in any of three cities is the wait to get on the train after a game, since everyone is leaving at the same time.

Most people drive to get to the stadiums in my hometown, but at least there is plenty of parking at the complex containing Citizens Bank Park, Lincoln Financial Field, the Wachovia Center, and the Spectrum. And it is accessible by public transportation (even if my parents would never let me take the subway there when I was a teenager as I probably could have done in a different city). Parking is $11 cash when you get there.

Baltimore is the worst city along the east coast (DC and north, at least) of the US in which to see a major league game. I wanted to take the train from work, only about 20 minutes away. The MARC train only runs on weekdays, and only late enough to get to the game, not home from it. I checked out the bus, since there signs posted that one can take a bus from various park-and-ride lots to the stadium. Oh, no, they are being discontinued as of this week. And had I wanted to take it to last night’s game, it would have cost me $17 round trip if I could get to a station to buy MARC train tickets ($8.50 each) in advance, or $20 cash on the bus ($10 each direction). How is that an incentive not to drive to the stadium? Parking permits online cost $10 per event. I couldn’t get a permit online though, as the lots at the stadium complex are too small to accommodate all the people going to the stadium, so I paid $20 for “general parking.” Since last night’s game went to 13 innings and many fans left the 2-2 tied game long before the end, I was walking alone to get back to my car, as everyone in the group of 20 people or so I had started walking that direction with had peeled off for different lots. The only reason I didn’t feel nervous was because there was so much traffic waiting to get out of the area that someone no one would dare attack me in front of all of those witnesses.

I have a friend who lives in the city of Baltimore. She can take two buses and light rail to get to the stadium. Baltimore has one subway line and one light rail line. One runs east-west and the other runs north-south, and you can’t transfer from one to the other. Who comes up with these awful public transportation options?

So even though you’ll pay an arm and a leg for Sox tickets at Fenway, at least it will only cost you $4 to get there and back. Even if you’re way out in the suburbs, you can probably park somewhere near a T station and get back and forth cheaply. I follow the American League and barely pay attention to the National League, but at least I could easily and reasonably get to see the Nats if I just wanted to see some baseball and didn’t want to make a weekend trip out of it. Next year the AL East plays the NL East too. I think I’ll be going to some of those interleague games.

leaving the empty spaces

Two important facts concerning my love life: I fall for emotionally unavailable women, and I don’t do rebound relationships. So I do my best not to get into a relationship unless I’m emotionally available, but I don’t ask the same of others. In fact, they are the ones who draw me in. Put an available woman in my path, eh, I probably won’t feel a thing. Give me one with lots of messiness from her last relationship, planning a cross-country move and not wanting to date, or committed to her own solo spiritual journey, and bam! the sparks fly, typically from both directions. I haven’t yet fallen for a nun, but that’s probably just lack of opportunity since there aren’t too many around. In my work I interact frequently teachers from the local public schools. Just wait until a Catholic school gets involved with the program I run.

It may very well be the end with L. It’s at least a break, and the ball is in her court. I’m not expecting to hear her ring tone any time soon. It’s not for a lack of feelings for me. She didn’t give me the “it’s not you, it’s me” line, but if she had, this would be the rare case to believe someone. What is going on in her life is really so important that she can’t handle someone else who has needs and wants. There are very few things in life that grave, but this one really is and she needs to care for herself and her children and that’s it for now. And ironically, if she were not someone who put her children above all else like she is doing, I wouldn’t think she was the most amazing person in the world. I’m not going to share the details of how it all went down because I sometimes I agree with Susan Werner:

Sometimes the secretest of secrets are best kept to themselves
For they lose their power when we tell someone else

and short as it was, the connection was powerful. She knocked me off my feet in a way that so few in my past have. It brings me both sorrow and joy to know that few in my future will. Joy because it’s happened twice now, so I know that kind of connection with someone is possible, and sorrow not only because I don’t have her in my daily life right now, but also because it took me 30 years to find it the first time, and twice in 34 years is still quite few. There probably are not many women in the world with whom I’m going to connect on so many levels. “Firing on all cylinders,” my former therapist called it. Someone I’m attracted to physically, intellectually, and emotionally, with values and sexual proclivities similar to mine. Someone who brings a smile to my face every time I think about her, someone I can’t ever spend enough time with, someone about whom I want to tell everyone in my life because she’s just that amazing. The one I want to tell when something good or bad happens, the last one I want to say good night and the first one I want to say good morning to.

(On the other hand, if you look at the fact that I’ve been out for twelve years, maybe a ratio of one woman I feel that way about for every six years isn’t so bad, especially if I ever manage to have a lasting relationship. And if I knew it would come along again when I was 40, I think I could wait out six years just fine. It’s the not knowing that’s toughest, try as I do to learn to be patient and let things happen in their own time.)

So I won’t date a woman just to have company. (Occasionally I regret this, like now when I have two tickets to a baseball game and can’t find anyone to go with me, nor can I find anyone who wants to buy both. I’d be happy to pay for both if I had a friend joining me, but I hate that I’ve paid for two and at this point will only be using one. So I’m hoping someone will buy the pair. They’re good seats too. But I digress.) I wait until it feels right, until I feel like my heart is ready to open to someone else again. And then someone who is not emotionally available, for one reason or another catches my eye. Even when I don’t fall for her like I did L, I can’t just move on after I’ve had feelings for someone. Unless I had already moved on in my heart and all that was left was the formality of breaking up, which has happened on a few occasions, I need to grieve and heal.

People keep asking me if I’m going to get another cat. My answer is, “Eventually.” Not right now. I miss Emily terribly, but I don’t want a rebound relationship with a cat either. I’m lonely, but I’d rather it just be me and Charlotte right now. I miss having Emily snuggle up to me in bed. I miss her jockeying for position with my legs on the couch. I miss her greeting me at the door every day. I miss how she’d let me hold her in my arms, how I could pet her for hours. When I do get another cat, it will be a young adult cat who is already showing her personality, and I want another lap cat. Charlotte was eight weeks old when she came home with me, and she has never been a lap cat. She’s always been rather aloof. It works out just fine, having one lap cat and one who would rather sit on the far arm of the couch. Otherwise, they’d better like each other a whole lot if they’re going to share that one lap.

But not yet. Under my bent knees on the couch is still Emily’s spot, as is curled by my side on the bed, on my belly while I work on the laptop perched on my thighs. Everywhere is hers. The sheets she last slept on with me have been changed and the comforter has been washed, but her hairs are still omnipresent. (She was light, Charlotte is dark. It’s easy to tell whose hair is whose.) I miss the weight on me, the soft fur next to me. But not until I get used to those places being empty will I let someone else fill them. Not until they stop being Emily’s. I don’t want a cat to replace her. I will only get a cat when I can love her for who she is, and when I notice how the two are different, the difference doesn’t have too much weight to it.

Just like when I date - I want to be completely over someone. When I notice differences, I either want them to be neutral, or I want to think the new woman in my life is so wonderful that whatever she does is better than whatever the previous girlfriend did. It’s different to lose a beloved friend of any species to death, as she gets crystallized in my memory as perfect even though she wasn’t, and ex-girlfriends often get remembered for their incompatibility. But either way, I’ll know when I’m ready to love again: when my lap stops feeling so empty without Emily, and when my heart stops feeling so empty without L.

grief, my home, and my curves

Grief is not conducive to many things: seeing friends, doing work, caring about the fact that the Sox got swept by the A’s this weekend, wearing my jeans without a belt. However, there does come a point when I get tired of just sitting here playing Word Twist on Facebook, and then it results in a clean kitchen and bathroom, several loads of laundry, and going through some more of the larger clothes that I’m getting rid of. (A friend says keep the larger clothes since I never know what will happen weight-wise, but my concern is much more that I will need to start buying clothes in size 6 than that I will need anything above a 12 anytime soon. I can’t wear the size 10s any more, just the eights, and I noticed in the mirror the other day that I have too much room in the hips in the size 8 curvy pants and I either need to get eights that are not meant for hippy women or sixes that are. I haven’t tried anything on since I last bought the 8 curvy pants so I don’t know which it is. I’ve always had hips. Currently my waist at its narrowest (not where I wear my pants though) is 28 inches and my hips at their widest are 36 inches. I used to have an 11-12 inch difference. This doesn’t seem so curvy to me.)

well, this is a surprise

Charlotte has never been an affectionate cat. While Emily was dog-like in her loyalty, Charlotte always flits in and out of rooms as she pleases. There are only a few people she is not afraid of and will not hide from, but when it’s just our little family at home, she goes where she wants. Emily was always by my side if not sitting on my lap, legs, chest, or curled between my feet. The closest Charlotte would come would be the back of the couch while Emily and I were on the cushions.

Emily has been gone for about 30 hours now. I’m still counting in hours. Charlotte is lying on the couch with me. She’s not on top of me, but she is by my side, a place she typically is not. I wonder if she is comforting me by being close, if she is close because she needs comforting, or if she is finally claiming a spot she has wanted but not been able to have because Emily was always the alpha. Whatever the reason, I’m glad she is near. I miss Emily so badly and no one can take her place, but a friend by my side helps me feel just a little less lonely.

When I got Emily, I lived with a roommate and we had opposite schedules: I worked days, she worked evenings, so there was often someone home with her. A few months after Emily and I moved out to our own apartment, I brought tiny kitten Charlotte home so that Emily would have company while I was at work all day. Charlotte tried to make friends, but Emily wasn’t interested. I always got the feeling that Emily would have preferred to have been an only cat. I made the decision almost ten years ago thinking I was keeping Emily from being lonely. I had no idea that I was setting in motion some solace for myself.

the first morning

“It’s funny how loud silence sounds.” - Nerissa Nields

It’s not silent. Charlotte is still here, and Charlotte is in some ways the louder cat. Emily was much more vocal, always meowing to let me know when she was dissatisfied. Charlotte is the one with the loud purr though, such that I thought about naming her Beetle, like the car, except that I like giving animals human names. She has been around me a lot since yesterday too, so I’m hardly alone. But it still feels quiet and empty in here with only Charlotte’s purring and movement. Emily’s voice is conspicuously absent.

Going to bed last night was hard. It was the first time in ten years I slept alone. I’ve gone to sleep either with a human woman or with Emily every night since 1998, unless I was camping or at my parents’ house. And camping I was in my own tent (well, most nights) but surrounded by woods full of women, and at my parents’ house they and sometimes my siblings were just a few rooms away. At my place I always had Emily on the bed. Charlotte sleeps where she wants - sometimes on the bed, but not usually the whole night. Sometimes in the living room, sometimes she’s up playing. Emily would come to bed with me nightly and spend the whole night curled up with me. If it was cold she’d want to be behind my knees when I used to be able to sleep in fetal position, before I started goaltending and it hurt my knees too much to spend all night like that. Once I dreamed I was pregnant and the baby was kicking, only to wake to find Emily curled up by my stomach. Sometimes she’d sleep on top of me, sometimes between my legs, but always touching me. If Charlotte sleeps on the bed, it’s on the other side. She will poke me if she wants something. There’s no picking her up without protest. She’ll fight and bite until she gets away. Even unprovoked, she bites. She’s trying to bite my hand as I type right now.

More memories to come over the weekend, I’m sure. I was to go camping with a bunch of fest friends, but I’ve opted not to leave Charlotte alone. In the past year the dog has disappeared, and now Emily has gotten sick and gone away. Plus there was that traumatizing week of no cat sitter and no food. If I were to leave her alone this weekend I’m sure she’d be quite confused and certainly notice that the number of companions had dwindled to none. I’m down to one animal here. She’s a bit of a pain in the butt, but I love her and I’m going to stay here and put her needs first. Even though I’m sure my friends and a festival would be a nice distraction, I think I need Charlotte too right now.

Emily

Update: Emily passed about 3:45 eastern time today.

My beloved cat is dying.

Sometime since her checkup last year she developed a heart condition, and on Tuesday developed a blood clot in her leg. She’s partially paralyzed and has stopped eating, drinking, urinating, and defecating. The vet gave her an anti-coagulant and aspirin and said that if there’s improvement within 24-48 hours she’d need to see a cardiologist; if not, there’s not going to be anything we can do. We’re still under 48 but she’s more lethargic, her paws are colder (less circulation), and she won’t drink water when I bring it to her. I’m home from work until I have to go in for a meeting this evening because I want to be with her for as much time as she has left.

I had all kinds of profound things to say a couple of days ago, but none of them seem the least bit important now. The only thing is that I no longer plan to celebrate May 21st as my birthday. I don’t mind getting older. But I got dumped on my 32nd birthday, and found out that my beloved cat would likely die in the next couple of days on my 34th birthday. There were some other lousy ones in there that three years ago I remembered but have been so eclipsed by these two that I can’t even remember what made them bad. So I renounce May 21st. Someone else can have it.

In a couple of days I’ll write a eulogy and tell you all about how wonderful she is but right now I’m just going to sit with her. Comments are turned off because I just don’t need any more sympathy. I appreciate the sentiments but I just want to be sad on my own.

just in case, says doc

A few days ago there was a post on Feministing about a proposal for new “rape bracelets” in Italy. Basically, women would wear a bracelet that they could use to alert the police if they were being attacked. Think the “I’ve fallen and I can’t get up” commercial where the lady has the necklace that alerts the ambulance. My grandparents have similar buttons all over their apartment in their retirement community so if they fall or have another emergency, a staff person will come to help them.

In the car today I mentioned a very minor bodily change I’ve had in recent years, and my mother said, “You were on the pill at one time, weren’t you?” Ah, yes, despite the title of my blog, there is a smidgen of heterosexuality in my past, more than a dozen years ago at this point. But I’ve also been on it for other short times for some other health benefits.

My sister piped up, “Oh, great, I’ve been on it eight years, since I started college. Am I going to get that too?” She went on to say that she was not sexually active when she first started taking it, but was put on it by a doctor at her school health center because she had an irregular cycle. She went on to say that the doctor told her that he recommends that all women in college be on the pill, because “sometimes things happen that you’re not always in control of.”

My mom responded first. “So he’s saying you should expect to get raped on that campus?”

I was livid. “Why is the onus on the woman to protect herself ‘just in case’ she is raped? Why aren’t the men being taught that rape is unacceptable in all circumstances?”

My sister, ever the peacemaker, tried to smooth it over by saying that young women get drunk and go to parties and sometimes “go farther than they thought they would, so it’s a good idea to be on it just in case.” Well, sure, it’s a good idea to have a birth control plan when you’re in a place in your life when a pregnancy is undesirable. But if you’re going to be going to parties and having sex with men, a condom is imperative for disease prevention too, not just pregnancy prevention. It sure sounds to me like this doctor was telling young women that rape happens, you might as well be prepared in case it happens to you.

i lied

Ok, I lied. I do have a toothbrush of sorts. I have my own head for the family’s electric toothbrush, but no one else but she and I know that it’s mine, since it looks like all the rest and is very easy to pass off as an extra one or “Mommy has two.” Plus I prefer my old-fashioned one and only use the electric one if I forgot mine or spend the night unexpectedly. I admitted to her early on that I’m a bit of a luddite and so far I’ve done nothing to disabuse her of that idea.  She, on the other hand, walks around with both a blackberry and an iPhone attached to her hip.