Broken Hearted

Oh friends, what a crazy few weeks its been.  We have been busy with our Fit Family Challenge (mostly walking) and back to school…but the thing that has been keeping me from you is my fur baby boy.  My sweet kitty boo boo is still AWOL.  The neighbor came over last night and thinks that he may have crawled under her porch to pass.  My hubby said that cats will do that, and I am just beside myself about it.  Complete denial.  I keep saying that I am sure it’s going to be a raccoon when we check.  My heart is broken.  I have had pets growing up, well not…I have had dogs.  I have never been a cat owner.  I was actually allergic growing up, so when my oldest asked for a cat 7 years ago we went to the shelter and she looked and I sniffed.  The deal was it had to be a cat she liked and that didn’t make my eyes swell shut.  That is when we found Nelson.

Nelson was one of a litter of kitties left in a box at the door step of the shelter.  After the vet saw him, it was determined that he had been abused and had some structural damage to his face.  He was a wheezer.  He sounded so sad and like an asthmatic old man, but he seemed happy to be going home with us.  When it came time to name him I suggested Nelson.  for some reason he made me think of Major Nelson from I Dream of Jeanie.  I fed him, changed his litter box…but I was steadfast in my statements that he was NOT my cat.  He was my daughter’s.

Nelson let us pick him up and carry him around like a tiny baby.  He loves snuggling and we developed quite the routine.  I wake up in some random cramped position everyday, because I seem to contort myself around him when he gets in bed and snuggles around my knees.  Every morning, I get out of the shower, he meows like a maniac at the bathroom door and I rush to let him in before he wakes up the entire house.   Then I scurry around while he tried to rub himself against my still wet legs.  I rub his belly and then move on to getting ready.  Once realizing the belly rub is done the meowing starts back up and I toss a pony tail holder to him to keep him busy while I finish getting ready.

We go downstairs and have breakfast.   This involves me trying to get myself food and him meowing like a madman again for milk.  We eat, say good morning to the other kitty and the pup, and when I go to leave he follows me outside and scurries off to kill things.

He has his little wheeze, and sneezes like a pro which is gross…at least humans can cover their mouths when things fly out, and he is small due to also having other health issues.  When I was preggers he would lay on my belly, well, until mini me kicked him through there one time…then it was game off.  At about 7-8 months preggers, he crawled into the ceiling of the basement and I panicked to the point of uncontrollable sobs.  This would have been OK except hubby came home from the gym to me in this state worried something had happened with the baby.  I just kept saying, she will never forgive me if we lose her kitty (about DD).

I have walked the street at midnight when he goes out carousing, stood in rain storms urging him out of his hiding place under the car to come inside to safety, woken up on the couch with him curled up so tightly with me that I yell at him for being a pain.  And now here I sit, tears streaming down my face while I type this because I miss him so damn much.  I can’t explain how very much I want it to be a raccoon or some other random creature under the neighbors porch.  I want to believe that he is on an epic adventure and will return soon…but at the same time, I need to know and if so have that closure.  I have screamed about how selfish it would be to go off and die somewhere, and sworn off any other cats after his brother is gone because I don’t know how else to cope with this.    I had two amazing dogs as a child and when it was time, we were together as a family with the vet when it was time to put them down.  I was able to tell them how much I loved them and say goodbye.  I haven’t said good bye to Nelson yet.

My husband keeps telling me what a great life he had, and I know its true.  No one else would have taken this wheezy, sickly little kitty from the shelter.  He is loved beyond measure, and I can only hope that he knows how very much I love him (especially because I told him the opposite so many times when he would make me too crazy).

Say a prayer for me as I go home today and do the hardest thing I have done in awhile, and look under that porch.

shannon the journey

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