Eddie and Kurt's Sleepover

Song: Caught a Ghost - Hold Out

** All names except for my sons are a work of fiction.

I was talking to a friend of mine.   Said a woman done hurt his pride.  Told him that she loved him so. Turned around and let him go.  Baby you better watch your step, somebody gonna hurt your pride.  Somebody gonna tell you lies.  Cut you down to size.  Don't do me like that.

Haha.  Where did that come from?@ Well,  I sat down to write about friendships, and that's what song came to my mind.  I prolly have the lyrics wrong.  But "Don't do me like that", is the best and I know that's right. So we're good ;D

My second grader, Colbert, had a homework assignment yesterday.  We sent it in so I have the exact wording off, but here's the what...

"Eddie is Kurt's best friend.  They planned to spend the night at Kurt's house sleeping outside in a tent.  Then Eddie got invited to a party at Jack's house. He really wanted to go to Jack's.  All of the friends would be there.  That would be so much more fun than sleeping outside alone with Kurt.  He knew going to the party would hurt Kurt's feelings.  His hands shook as he picked up the phone to call Kurt." 

Then there were a few questions.  One I really liked, "How could you tell Eddie was worried?" His hands were shaking.  Then, the last one asked "What would you do? Explain."

Okay, first of all.  I started shaking watching him eagerly put pencil to paper.  I had a palpable hunch that Colbert was going to say, "Later, Kurt!"

Second, what kid doesn't want to sleep outside in a tent? What parent is letting 7 year olds sleep outside in a tent?  I'm sure Kurt's a great kid but his mom's messed up.  Hence, Kurt = no invite.  Just kidding.  I hope kids aren't judged by their moms, my kids will be ska-rewed.  Third, what kind of Brokeback Mountain craziness is in this example? "...so much more fun than sleeping outside, alone in a tent with Kurt." Um, that'll depend in time, I guess.  Sorry, I'm just having a bit of fun.  Go prop 8.  Seriously.

Okay, so.  This one needs to be talked out.  As predicted by my palpitations, my body never fails me, Colbert was all set to go to the party.

"Okay," I said.  Flashbacks of backstabbers and mean-girls flooded my inner child.  Part of me wanted to grab him by the scruff of the neck and stuff him in the attic. Then I remembered that he is seven and suffers bouts of low self-esteem.  The wording, "All of the friends would be there", that was the straw.  "But look at who Kurt is? Who is Kurt to Eddie?"

"Oh, his best friend," he said,  happy he got the answer to what must have felt like a riddle, then looking a little embarrassed.  Attic? What attic? I'm going to have a parade.

"What does it say going to the party would do to Kurt?"

"Hurt his fillings," he said, eyes down.  He always writes and pronounces feelings, fillings.  As if they were once cavities, 'the hollow of a body', and then I guess sometimes they are.  Even when he wrote it on the back of his bedroom door in a graphite scrawl that almost put me to the ground. "You hurt my fillings. - ColBrt."

"So, who's your best friend?" I asked, knowing how it varies.  If I insert a name I'll get screamed at.

"Jake," he said.

"Would you want Jake to feel bad?" I asked.  Trying my best not to steer.

"No, no," Colbert said.  The way he looks out over his glasses is so humbling.  This job is impossible.  So many fillings.

"And would Jake do that to you?" I asked.

"No. Never," Colbert said, smiling like Goofy, looking up and around the room. "Jake's the best. Jake's like, Jake's like the nicest person."

"He really is,"  he really is.

"But Sam would," Colbert said. "Sam totally would."

I know Sam, he is a meathead in training.  I have seen him cold stare Colbert when he tells him jokes, tell him his body is "gross!", that he has no eyes because he wears glasses - all while kissing his not-yet-there biceps and blowing snot rocks out of his puny nostrils.   Knowing your kid could hurt someone is painful; seeing your kid bullied is grief.  I tell myself that it looks worse to me than it feels for him.  Colbert of course must have Sam like him, he worships him.  I know there will always be a Sam.  This is an inside job for Colbert.  I am thrilled he is starting to understand that Sam is not where it's at.  Thank you teachers.  Thank God for Eddie and Kurt!  Sam would unblinkingly never give a terd about Kurt's feelings.  He wouldn't even pick up the phone.  He'd leave Kurt alone in the tent, waiting.

"Yeah, he'd be like Kurt who?" I said laughing.

"Colbert who?!" he said, laughing.

"So would you cancel on Sam?" I asked.

"Yes!" he said, like duh?! "That's who I was thinking about back then!"

And there it is.  The Golden Rule.  Do unto others as they do you.  Don't do me like that.  Oh wait,  I got it wrong.  It's 'Do unto others as you'd have done to you.'

Darn.  I don't know quite what to say to that.  I think of second chances and don't lower yourself and be bigger.  And then I think we're here for such a short time, weed him out early, dude.  If someone has consistently hurt you and you can say for a fact that they will do it again?  Stand up and walk.  The hard part is the 'stand up', that's telling a person how you feel. Yikes, for me at least, this has never worked.  If I so much as say something rubbed me the wrong way,  I'm done for.  So I've pretty much stopped that.  Just kidding, that has happened in the past. Today, I have great friends based on this very approach, truth.  Because I would like that done unto me.  It's not easy to do- there is the risk that a friend won't like your feelings.  They won't care and say you're annoying or too sensitive and be defensive and whoah- that's when it gets exhausting and it's, well, over.  I know, sometimes it can be tough stuff, this friendship business.  When you find the good ones though, it's so worth it.  I don't know what I'd do without my friends.  I want my children to have these essential bonds.

These guys have a chance at healthy relationships, of being respected and most importantly having early self respect.  Even Sam, weed he may be, deserves to be told what he did, he may be getting lots of positive feedback, (or what he thinks is positive feedback) for his behavior and not know that he is hurting his friend.  He's just a little boy.  After that,  if he doesn't care... lates gates.  But so many times, I'd say most of the time,  unless their picker is really off, a friend is not intentionally trying to hurt your kid.  Like Colbert's first reaction to Eddie and Kurt, he just didn't see the whole picture.  He saw 'alone in a tent .vs. all the friends at a party'.  And on the other hand, not everybody's Jake.  Jake would be a best friend, Sam an acquaintance (or a run the other way:).  Lots of levels of friendships in between.  There's energy, chemistry, timing, someone may treat you well but you just don't click... that's cool, keep it moving...etc.  So, best advice is not to give advice- I won't tell you what to do.  I do tell Colbert to be wise and listen to his fillings. 

Chocolate World

Song: California Dreamin' by The Mama's & The Papas-

This link is The Mama's & The Papa's on stage

                        *****
"You can be anything in your dreams," Julian (5) says. "While you're sleeping."

"You can be anything you dream, Jules," I say. "Awake."

It's something I believe 80 percent of the time.  When the dream seems to be coming true, I believe it.  When the doors are slamming, it's hard not to question.  Still, I try not to question.  Still, I try not to live on the underbelly of doubt but on the top of hopes spine.

I don't deliver my doubts to Julian.  His time is all ahead of him, his middle name is Wonder.

"NO you can't! Mama," he says, suddenly furious. "Only! When! You! Are! Sleeping!"

"Well, some dreams you can make up during the day," I explain,  "and if you work really hard and get some luck, those can come true."

"Because you're in a nap?" he asks. Curious now enough to be calm-ish.

"No, when you're awake during the day."

"Did you have dreams?" he asks.


Did I? Past tense.  I'm old in his eyes, years past dreaming.

"Yes," I say, looking at him, a living example of one of my dreams.  I think I can start digging up things in my life that will keep his hope alive, my hope alive.  "Um, I wanted to be on TV, I was.  I wanted to have three kids, I do.  I wanted to marry a loving beautiful man, your Daddy."

"Ugh!" he sighs,  he is having trouble putting on his blue sneakers, "But it takes SO long."

"Well, its not a magic trick," I say, waving my hands like a wand around his head.  "It's not like abracadabra bip it dee doo I have a dream make it come true!"

He doesn't seem like he's in the mood to laugh.

"It's taking TOO loooong," he says.  Pissed off again.  "You stunk at acting."

Thanks.

"What is your dream?" I ask.

"It's never going to happen," he says.

"What is it?" I ask.

I'm thinking if its the NBA, his gene pool may rule him out.

"I want the whole world to be made of M&M's."

Hmm.

"Maybe start by making a tree out of M&M's and go from there," I suggest.

"NO!" he says.  Waving his hands in a big circle, "I want the whole world!"

Well, didn't we all.

                  *****

Happy Memorial Day Weekend! Hope everyone enjoys lots of fun family time and are able to eliminate stress by sticking to healthy boundaries- instead of drinking, eating or drugging themselves into a coma;)

**Also I loved featuring Lori King, marathon swimmer last week and since have recognized that there are so many super fly women in my life.  (and that I'm totally sick of talking about myself:) So, once a month I'm going to feature a SpunkerFly Woman of the Month.  On deck, Dr. Christine Mullen,  Reproductive Endocrinologist at LIJ (surgeon and infertility specialist), Kathryn "Katie" Moffet Barbatsuly, owner and founder of Moffet Home and a couple of others I haven't had a chance to ask yet, (been busy making stairs and banisters out of M&M's;)). 

Swimming With Sharks, Lori King

This is the first time I'm featuring someone in a post (and after many technical difficulties on my end it may be my last:) But I was so impressed with marathon swimmer Lori Kings recent account of her swim.   Hers is a compelling profile of an athlete, it proves her fearsome determination, unyielding dedication - and that she has the code of a champion.  As a person who finds it easy to give up if so much as the breeze is not to my liking- I was awestruck.  I hope you are too.


Lori King in the beginning of her swim

Dear friends and family,

I know a lot of you have called, texted, and e-mailed curious about the outcome of my swim.   I receive an e-mail from my coach around the same time I was writing these thoughts.  I have included that below my write up.  Hers is a more accurate account.

Here is our story from my point of view.

The night before the race was a pre-race briefing where we were told official rules, were able to ask questions and most importantly finally meet our crew. Although I had spoken to both of them on the phone, when I finally met our captain Max and kayaker John, I knew I was going to be in good hands.

The race started out uneventful, and we immediately hit chop about 15 minutes to a half hour into the swim. John was probably feeling it more than I. When I realized the chop was not going to let up (I am not sure how many hours at that point, went by) I became ok with it. Then, came the swells. Some say 4 foot, others 6. Whatever the final number, I was feeling it but I did as Coach Bonnie had instructed me to do the day before and dug down (not letting my pull slip out but kept it under). The swells were brutal on John as he couldn't just power through them but rather had to steady his kayak to pace slower with me, hold his position in proximity to me, and also watch me, all while trying not to flip. We ended up picking up another kayaker that was part of another team at some point along this stretch and he (Craig) ended up being a Godsend for John...he needed to rest. For the rest of the swim they took turns switching to support me. The 1st bridge felt like it took forever to get to. I was convinced there either was not a bridge, or hopeful that we had gone under it and I hadn't noticed.

Around 8 hours into the swim I started to feel intense hunger pains. Bonnie knew this was coming and although I was not prepared for it, she was. She gave me a quarter of a peanut butter sandwich and immediately I felt better. When we hit the first bridge (mile 18) I felt good, tired, achy but good. Bonnie refused to tell me what time it was or what mile, I did not ask for fear of knowing and she did not volunteer because she knows things that I do not.

Here is the technical part. My coach said my stroke count was consistently at 70 strokes per minute dipping down to only 67 in the swells. I felt strong throughout and I knew I was ok because my arms continued to work and never failed me. This was all due to Bonnie's coaching. She trained me very well.

When we were approaching the second bridge, my crew started instructing me as to what I needed to aim for to finish (after the bridge, look to the buildings, you are there, you are almost done). Mile 21, as we approached the bridge, my kayaker started making his way toward the boat. I picked my head up and heard Bonnie's whistle and saw her giving me the sign to swim toward her. The weather had been overcast with periods of slight sunshine all day so I was unaware of the time but assumed it was earlier than it was and dark due to bad weather.

I swam toward the boat to hear her instruction. She said, “Listen, first I want you to know that you did an amazing job and outlasted most of the field today but now I need you to get on the boat.” I had no idea what was going on but automatically thought I had finished or there was lightning-- I'll get off then get back in was my thought. At that point Max tried to pull me up the side of the boat.

Once I was on I said, “what, was that the finish?” thinking that Bonnie, who had been playing Jedi mind trick on me all day to keep me going had done it again. She gave me a firm “no.” She said, sit down first and then I will tell you. I said “is it lightning?” She said, “no- you had two sharks circling you, we were afraid for your safety, we felt you were in trouble and we needed to get you out.” At that point, I was thinking, ok so am I getting back in? I might have said it out loud because Bonnie said, “No, it's over you're done, you can't get back in.” At that point I started bawling and just outwardly sobbing and maybe said no, no, no. I was not finished, I was not ready to get out, I wanted to keep going. Ending before the finish was not an option.

Bonnie and John saw the sharks near the boat-Craig were kayaking for me at that point in the swim. Bonnie said something to the effect of let's see what they do, if they are curious and just go away we'll let her keep swimming. About a minute later, the fins came up behind/around me and Craig. Max, Bonnie and John, at that point, became very alarmed and felt I needed to be pulled immediately. Max commented that it was dusk – their feeding time--we are at a bridge which is where they like to go to feed and they would not show themselves unless they were going to do something.

As an aside, the next morning as I was crying at breakfast while eating a very big cinnamon bun, I had the pleasure of meeting the 5th place finisher who was from Buenos Aires. He has swum in waters all over the world he said. He finished in the place I believe I would have finished and he was behind me so he was in the water around the same place (about a quarter mile south of me) and same time when I got pulled. He said he also saw/encounter some sharks. He said he knew at the end he had a shark near him but he was so tired, he had traveled from Buenos Aires and he just wanted to finish so he went for it. I was honored to have spoken to him and shake his hand.

I do not know what else was being said on the boat as we got the other kayaker on, I do not know when I took off my cap or got to the part of the boat so Max could get us to shore but here are the things I do know:

1.        Regardless of what people say or may think, swimming is a team sport. I would not have made it to mile 21 and swam 12 hours without an amazing coach, an incredible kayakers and a top class captain. I was only a small part of the reason why I got as far as I did. This was a team effort and we were a well working team.

2.        I DO NOT blame the sharks. This is what open water swimming is about. I was visiting their home uninvited, not the other way around. They were only doing what they do and every time a swimmer, a boater, a kayaker, a surfer, a human, gets in the water, the natural order of things is disrupted, even when you have the utmost respect for the water and take care in what you are doing.

3.        This was a great race and I would/feel like I have to do it again so I can finish. Unless I am swimming in a pool, I am going to encounter all sorts of sea life, it is expected. I also had some dolphins swim with me and stingrays – which is pretty cool.       

4.   This too shall pass and I know I will get over      it. This was definitely a learning experience for me and I will take this      knowledge and experience on my next swim.

I feel completely defeated right now and devastated and I know that will go away. As I told John, Coach Bonnie will not allow the wallowing. I have three weeks to rest before she wants me back in the water and I will get back in.  A fellow swimmer and New Yorker, Yuta, fought a good fight and hung in there for 14 hours getting bit in the first 1 hr. 1/2 of the swim.  An amazing feat that he should be incredibly proud of.

Thank you to everyone who has supported me through these months of training, I know I was not easy and certainly not pleasant at times. The support my family, friends and fellow swimmer friends have shown and continue to show is truly a blessing.

From the bottom of my heart—thank you.  


Here is Bonnie's account of our story:

Hi Everyone!

Lori’s swim was incredible!  She had us all in awe with her power and strength.  As her coach, I am beyond proud of her!

It’s hard to call the Tampa Bay Marathon a “race” since each individual swimmer/Boat/Kayaker takes a different course.  Within 15 minutes of the start we barely saw any other teams.  What we did see, was some seriously choppy water with 2-4 foot swells. I also saw a boat take on so much water, that the Coast Guard came out to rescue it.  I couldn’t see what number it was. 

 Lori powered through with a consistent 70 strokes per minute.  I was stopping her every 30 minutes to drink her mixture of water, CarboPro and lemon juice.  She was only taking in about 1.5 to 2 ounces per feed and would get back to swimming after 20 seconds. I upped the frequency to every 20 minutes.  Her kayaker, John, was terrific!  He kept a solid eye on her and the surroundings at all times.

She consistently came in at 70 strokes per minute.  At about the 4 hour mark, there were 4 foot swells that the John was having difficulty navigating and she just charged through.  At that point, we picked up another kayaker, Craig, who had gotten separated from his team.  He was on a sit atop kayak, and with the wind and waves, it was paddling a barge!  We put him and his kayak on our boat.

John needed a break to rest his arms.  I got in the sit atop to see if I could give a John a break on the boat.  After 20 minutes, I had to give up, as I could not keep up with Lori’s swimming!  We put the sit atop kayak back on the boat and then we tried to get John on the boat and put Craig in John’s long kayak. 

It sounds easier than it was!  With the water conditions what they were, when Craig tried to get into the John’s kayak, he capsized!  So Captain Max, John and Craig had to do a kayak rescue so it didn’t sink, while I kept my eyes on Lori.  She got freaked out because she didn’t know what was going on with the boat, so I told her not to worry about to “keep swimming!”  She did just that!

Once we, the crew, got ourselves sorted out, we caught up to Lori who was still swimming at 70 strokes a minute!!  She looked terrific!  The water calmed down just a bit and I saw 3 dolphins swimming around.  They were beautiful and I am pretty sure that they thought Lori was one of them.  :)

There was a lot of complex navigation by the Captain to avoid the sand bars.  The whole time, Lori just kept swimming at 70 strokes a minute!  At 7 hours, she told me she was running out of steam.  I informed her that she wasn’t, and so she kept swimming.  While we, on the boat, could see the Gandy Bridge coming up, Lori couldn’t.  She just kept on swimming and swimming and swimming.  John and Craig switched out on the kayak a few times.  We passed several boats and swimmers, but it was hard to tell who they were.

Just before we reached the first bridge, Lori said was hungry, so I delivered a little peanut butter sandwich bite on her feed line.  She ate it up and then we had to leave her and John to go under the bridge while Captain Max, Craig and I went 2 miles further out to pass under a section that was tall enough for the boat.  When we got back to Lori and John, she was looking as strong as ever.  It was 4:30pm.

We could then hear on the radio, that several swimmers were starting to drop out.  Lori just kept swimming.  The section between the Gandy the Franklin bridges is 3 miles.  Lori was still swimming at 70 strokes per minute (amazing) but we were only progressing 1.2 miles per hour.  By 6:30pm, we had almost reached the next bridge.    She was still going strong and I have no doubt she was have just kept swimming.

It was getting to dusk, so we were figuring out the best plan for getting Lori to the finish given that the boat had to be out of the water by dark.  Since we had 2 kayaks, they were both going to kayak her in and I was going to go with the boat to the finish and wait for her there.  Her stroke count had still not dropped.

At a few minutes to 7, we were about 100 yards from the Franklin Bridge.  That is when 2 black fins came within 3 feet of our boat.  John and I saw them, and we immediately went to the side to investigate.  They were indeed two 4-foot long sharks.  We informed Captain Max.  He hadn’t seen them, so we all just kept on the lookout.  Then Captain Max’s expression changed, and he pointed to the 2 fins circling Lori and Craig.  As a fisherman, he said “Where there are 2, there are more…”  We briefly considered that perhaps they would swim away.  Captain Max said it was indeed feeding time and there was a lot of fish activity by the bridge.

Lori showed no signs of slowing down.  She was ready to keep swimming for as long as it took.  It could have been another 3 hours, or it could have been an hour and a half and I have no doubt she would have continued at 70 strokes per minute. 

However, I was taking NO CHANCES with my swimmer.  She has an unlimited open water career ahead of her and she had more than proven herself has a hard core open water swimmer.  I made the final decision to pull her immediately.  At exactly 12 hours, I blew my whistle and instructed her to return to the boat now.  She wanted to know why, and I told her I would tell her on the boat, but she needed to get out now.

Once she got on, I put a towel around her and told her how proud I was and that I had to pull her for her safety. I know how upset she was and still is, but I am SO PROUD of her and how tough she was.  I see this as an incredible 12 Hours of Power Swimming.  This will qualify her other open water swims and should give her the confidence that she can attack her next swim. 

Captain Max, Kayaker John and Kayaker Craig were in absolute awe of her and I am just so proud!  I can’t wait till the next adventure with her.  I have instructed her to take 3 weeks off and RELAX and then she can get back in the water, where she will be stronger and better than ever. 

In my book, Lori and Yuta are SUPERSTARS!!!!!  I’m so glad I was able to be a part of it.


~Coach Bonnie

Loss of a Pet - Telling the Kids

Song: The Kids Are Alright - The Who

Part II - Telling the Kids

After we put our cat, Cat, to rest- in a recyclable paper bag- two feet under in the backyard- we immediately thought of how to tell the kids.  Well, I was thinking, how to tell the kids and Danny was set on not telling them anything.  I'd grown against that.  Danny didn't grow up with pets but we were raised with everything from a rabbit to parakeets (as well as the old standards; goldfish, cats, dogs.)  When a pet died this is how I remember the breaking news...

"Where's Fido?" Let's say I'd ask my mom. 

"Who?" 

"Our dog. Fido?" 

"Oh, he's in the basement." 

"Nah, he's not. I looked." 

"Check outside, or in the garage."

Fido was never in the basement, or the garage, or outside.  

"Is Fido gone?" 

"Ah, stop," she'd laugh, like I was inventing things, "I'm making chicken cutlets for dinner.  Go grab me a pan."

Um? Are you sure you don't want to make bananas?  Cause that's what this is.  Bananas.  

I used a similar strategy when we had to put our dog to sleep after hurricane Sandy, actually it was after the Nor'easter, a week after Sandy.  She came to live with us a year and a half ago prior-

Girlie on her 12th birthday

she was my parents dog.  She was really old and awesome.  Such a good girl and that's what we called her, good Girlie. That's a whole nuther story... but after she went, I told the kids "we took her to an old age home to be with other old dogs".  They were confused.  Lies make a person confused.  Little people anxious.  I felt horrible.  The questions never ended.   I made a lot of cutlets.  I told a lot of lies. 

With Cat passing, I thought it an opportunity to try a different approach.  The truth!  

I googled my case.  I showed Danny different websites to prove that it was best to sit the kids down as soon as possible and tell them the truth. "Look, KidsHealth.com, it's all here." I said, pushing my laptop in front of his face.  "Yeah, no." he said.   Danny thought we went to sleep without a decision but my mind was made up before I put the case to trial.  You know how we do. 

In the morning as the kids were getting ready for school,  I grappled with the timing- what if they got really upset and then had to sit in school?  We had about twenty minutes before the window would be shut and we'd be living with lying for another day.  I can talk myself out of anything.  Okay, we're going in.  We got them on the couch and told them the cat was hit by a car during the night and went to heaven.  Colbert, 7, cried easily- wiping away tears he said, "Okay, hope it didn't hurt too bad."  Julian, 5,  looked sad as he yawned, stiff upper lip:/.  Henry, 2, had already left the room. 

We went out to the backyard and showed them the small burial site we had made.  We had placed a conk shell on top of fresh dirt.  We stood there for a few minutes talking about heaven and God and how happy the cat was.  I found the field mouse from the "little game" Cat and mouse had Monday night and placed it near the shell, they liked that.  We took our procession back inside.  Colbert asked if he could place flowers on the grave, we said that would be lovely.  

"Mom," he came running in, "come see what I made for Cat." 

He had placed a ring of Cherry blossoms from a nearby tree and a tulip from the garden around the conk shell and the young mouse.  He was so proud of himself and we were so proud of him.  And that was it...it's a week later and there are no questions, no lingering confusion, no lying.  I haven't had to give anyone eyeballs when they ask about the cat in fear of the kids "finding out".  We will find a new kitty soon, and this time when the kids name him, I'm going to stick with it no matter how many syllables...Cat was a generic name with a unique place in all of our hearts.  There he will stay.

***Next week a story of champion endurance shared by a friend and world class swimmer Lori King.  Her triumph in a race where she endured 4 foot swells, chop, 12 hours and sea life...and by sea life,  I mean sharks.  Sharks...

Cat

I was watching my cat, whose name is Cat,  just Cat.  I thought I got the idea to name him Cat because he was always taking off in the beginning- 2-3 days at a time and we were always calling, "Cat!" out in the backyard, in the cold, in the snow, and he'd meow, his return cries louder and louder as he found his way back to us.  It always felt like a miracle.  Colbert was three years old when I told the long gray haired man on Sunrise Highway, that yes, I'd take the kitten.  Oh jeez.  I was never really a "cat person", I mean, I like cats, I like dogs,  I'm an animal lover.  But at that point were you to ask me if I wanted a cat per se?  The answer would have been no.  Then this hippy holding one kitten said he had an entire abandoned litter at home-he found them under a bush- they were maybe 7 weeks old- who could say no?  Actually telling the story it's kinda amazing I didn't get clubbed and thrown into a van with no windows...but...whatever, I believed him...

"My guess? They're feral," he said, "oh, he'll be around, but don't expect him to stay too long. He'll like his freedom."

Well, that makes two of us, I'm in.

When he dropped him off in a box big enough for a microwave by my backdoor -Colbert named him Tyrannosaurus Rex.  I'm not opposed to long names, but it was a lot in our mouths when we were trying to locate him.  "Tyrannosaurus Rex! Come!" So, that got shortened to "T".   He was always missing but around, as the man predicted.  It was scary that first winter trying to find him during all of the snow storms, and then I kept hearing myself say, "Where's the cat?" "Cat?" "Did anyone (feed, see, water) the cat?" I was never sure that he was going to be here.   So, he became Cat.  I thought it was pretty original, until I read Gone Girl, last week and one of the characters noted that Audrey Hepburn had a cat named Cat in Breakfast at Tiffany's and I thought, Oh yes! Once again I'm a total cliche;)  That's where that came from.  I must have known that, Cat.  I have to watch that again, I can't remember what she said about her cat, but I remember I loved it.  Or it could be that I loved her and anything she said.

Anyway, a good neuter later Cat became an in-our-lives-everyday cat,  against all feral genes.  I was watching him play with a mouse in our backyard Monday night.  I sat on the swing, legs dangling, watching him paw this tiny little field mouse and I was thinking, who came up with the phrase a little game of Cat and Mouse?  It sounds so evenly matched.  It's definitely not a game to the mouse, the mouse was scurrying as fast as he could out of the cats reach and then trying to hide in the grass, terrified.  There was Cat; waiting, finding, pouncing-over and over again.  He'd paw him just enough to hurt him-keeping him alive just to keep it exciting.  I knew in the morning the mouse would be garden feed.  We considered briefly having him as an indoor cat, but what's a life of shitty kibble and don't scratch another sofa arm?  He was meant to prowl.  Feral was in his genes!  So there was dear Cat, entertained,  playing with this little guys life or earning his keep;  living a life true to purpose.  I thought I'd write a blog about it.

Then Tuesday night, I was in bed and Danny came half way up the stairs, "this guy says something happened to the cat.  You wanna go or?" His face looked like, "Oh, shit."  I was already putting on my clothes.

I ran out and saw four young people standing on the sidewalk a couple of houses down, I ran to them.  As I got closer I saw Cat, all of his furry white body laying on its side in the grass.  "Oh, no!," I screamed.  "What happened?!" I got down on the ground to see Cat's face.  One eye was closed, the other looked glassy- fake.  I looked at the people, they had their hands in their pockets, possibly reaching for what to tell me.

"Yea, um, I saw him like running like fifteen minutes ago," he said, his hands digging deeper, gripping cotton and corduroy,  "but I was just walking back and um...he was here."

"He was breathing like two minutes ago," another guy offered, he took his hands out of his pockets and quickly simulating breathing before returning them to cover.

I picked up the cat,  he was warm and snuggly, I felt the weight of a thousand soothing pets press against my heart.  I came to need that cat,  I loved holding that cat.  How many times I whispered into that fur.  So much trauma in these past four years- losing a baby, having a baby, dad sick,  dad dead, starting a school, closing a school, the dog, (don't even get me started on the dog.) Just every little and big thing that we all go through.  It wasn't like I'd go looking for the cat, he was often the last think on my mind, but then there he'd be.  He always found me.  He'd look up and meow and I'd pick him up and snuggle him and rub noses, oh he was so cute and funny I'd feel better.  He followed me everywhere, even into the tub.  Well, he'd sit on the side of the tub.  Now that's real love, cat's hate water.  Danny would say, "Oh my God he's so annoying,  he loves you."  I'd smile and laugh.  It was true.  And despite my best early efforts to give him no name and keep it cool... I'd find myself baby talking to him, "Who's the prettiest Cat? Oh no, you're not pretty - you're handsome, my thweet little baby Cat. What? You're not a baby-you're a warrior! Big strong warrior Cat."  I loved that white purring ball of rescued love.  Oh, man.  That's what pets do- they give us unconditional love and I thought I was doing him a favor...

Here I was four years later hoping he would purr.  His warm body cuddled close to mine.  So fucking impossible.  He was comforting me even in his pain.  Cat.

Danny came out, he saw me holding him close to my face, stroking his back while I looked at these poor kids for answers.  One was waiting for a call back from a vet.  So sweet.

"I think he's alive, he has no marks on him, he's really warm," I said, my tears desperate, my voice running.  He wasn't purring.

"Blood is dripping out of his mouth,"Danny said, "it's all down your sleeve."

He was dead.  I knew then that he was dead.  I sobbed.  No, this can't be.  Not my warrior.

We buried him in the backyard.  It was reasonably dignified as far as being put in a paper bag and buried under a conk shell goes...

I'm not really sure how to end this story, I'm struggling a bit.  Part of me wishes we had kept him inside- but knowing how he took the head off of a bird last week and all the mice he killed and how much fun he had being who he is...he would have hated it.  He was probably chasing something when he got hit.  Better to die living with what you love than to live dying with what you hate.  I guess.  I did expect him to stay longer.


Part II- Telling the Kids - look for it next week.  Another heart warmer.  No, it is actually:)