She Wasn't Just a Cat - She Was An Institution

First off, I want to thank everyone who noticed and inquired about the deafening silence on this blog.  I been sick.  Seriously sick.  And for a long time.  At long last, after more then a decade, a diagnosis of chronic lyme disease was made.  I'm treating for that lyme now, and let me tell you, it's one of the hardest things I've ever had to work through.  When I first heard the diagnosis, my heart was so light.  I thought "do you really mean to tell me that over ten years of rheumatoid arthritis and a reconstructive surgery, weakness, exhaustion, brain fog, crazy dreams (the symptoms go on and on) have all been because of this?"  I was thrilled, excited, that we had a plan to treat the whole deal.  Then the next day I actually started the treatment.  I won't go into details, just suffice it to say that all of my symptoms are popping in and out in spades, and I'm deathly sick every day from the drugs.  This is part of the plan, so it's ok, but even so, it's really hard.  I am blessed to have found a doctor who specializes in integrative medicine, so I am armed with the supplements and other support so desperately needed to help get me through this.

So I'm working through the physical stuff, and also dealing with some mental stuff.  I told my family today I feel like someone who has been wrongly imprisoned for a number of years.  I have spent nearly 1/3 of my life sick with lyme disease.  Sure, I'm going to get my life back, and I'm really looking forward to that, but at the same time, I'm angrier than a wet hen.  Angry at the doctors who didn't treat me properly back in 1997 when that tick bit me, and again when I returned with arthritis symptoms a short while later, and all those slick rheumatologists who are basically sleeping with their pharmaceutical reps -- who knew I had had lyme disease but didn't want to pursue that route because they would lose their ill-gotten gain from keeping countless numbers of sufferers on medications they didn't need and would indeed harm them in the long run.

So anyway....deep breath...I am seriously ACHING for Spring here at the Haney Place.  We're starting lettuce in a tray (ok it's a kitty litter box, but it was never used for that) in an upstairs bedroom even though the ground outside is still covered with snow and ice.  And we're wading into the world of sprouted grain bread.  I promise a post with a recipe in the very near future.  I've already got a sourdough starter beginning to brew in the kitchen.  That's about all the cooking I can handle at this point.  Just 15 minutes or so on my feet leaves me all worn out at this point.

Now on to the object of my post.  In the midst of all the turmoil here lately, our cat died.  PooPoo.  I don't really know how old she was.  I only know I've had her for 19 years, and she was all grown up when I adopted her.  So let's just say she was 20-something.  She was a force to reckon with, that's for sure!  Her first family had had her mutilated declawed, all four paws.  So she was helpless, and she was mad as heck about it!  Then she was dumped in a shelter, until we adopted her.  I was desperately missing my cat Oscar who had recently deceased, and I wanted another lap cat.  Enter PooPoo.  Wow -- no lap cat here.  I honestly believe that if she had opposable thumbs, she would have been making obscene gestures at us several dozen times a day.  She TOLERATED us feeding her, other than that she shunned humans for the most part.  My oldest son, Jeffrey, used to be able to get her to do back flips on my bed by doing circles with a feathery toy bird on a stick.  That was pretty much the most fun we had with her.

The past year or so, she has been slowly declining, but never so much as the past few weeks.  Poor little thing had nothing left to her - her bones jutted out visibly, her mind was pretty much gone (she tried to eat the kitty litter) and she kept insisting on sitting up on a high shelf, and she kept falling off and hurting herself.  Two days ago, she began staggering as she walked.  I really couldn't bear to watch any longer, so we made the difficult decision to take her to the vet today, for that "last ride".  That tough old girl just lie quietly in a blanket in my arms the whole time.  I had a talk with her, and reminded her that she would be seeing Jesus before I would.  I asked her to put in a few good words for me.  Because she was what she was, and I believe she was exactly what she was created to be.  A creature of God, designed for His purpose.  He knew we needed her, and not another lap cat.  And hopefully, she needed us as well.  She's with God now, I firmly believe that.  Enjoy, PooPoo.  I hope you have all the Grilled Tuna Fancy Feast in Gravy you can hold!!!

So it's kind of a sick, sad time here at the Haney Place tonight, but we're looking toward Spring, and that's a fact.  And we know a secret about some very, very happy news that we'll post about later in the week, and that's a promise.