Monday, June 14, 2010
If I am Quiet...
Marcy and I will have been together for 16 years this coming October, and at the same time, our eldest cat Scottie will turn 17.
Or maybe not.
Here we go again.
When Marcy and I first met, we very quickly (and it's a long story how) acquired four cats. All of them were approximately the same age, so we would occasionally talk about how we knew...some time in the distant future...well, there would be a cluster of Very Difficult Years.
Those years have come.
Scottie is the last remaining cat of the Original Four. In the meantime, we've also taken in Crazy Miss Emily and we have no idea how old she is.
Now we've been joined by Lilly, 2, and Toby, 8/9 months. Fresh Cats, we call them.
Scottie, F. Scott Fitzgerald, is ill. He's never been ill and this illness will be his way out of his Fur Suit and into his Sparkle Suit. We have no idea how long this will take. It could be two days or two months...one never knows, right?
We are sad. Marcy has come to a good place, a place of understanding, a place that I say I, too, understand, but I am struggling.
Marcy points out, rightfully, that it has to do with my inherent distrust of Life. I don't trust it and here's my proof. She is right. I am more trustful than ever, but I have a long way to go.
If I am at all quiet, you now know why.