Took little Bobbers in to get that respiratory infection he couldn't kick taken care of. The vet was curious and suspicious as to why a normally healthy cat couldn't kick a regular infection, so he ran a test, and sure enough… Bob had contracted feline leukemia. Corey and I made the decision to put him down then and there, mostly because any money we can spare goes to treating my diseases, and he was just gonna be sick and miserable until he died. That's not fair to him. So, as much as it sucked, they euthanized him right then, with me holding him in my arms.

It was awful. Not because it wasn't quick and humane, but because I lost another child within 4 1/2 months. Bob's brother and litter-mate, Cortes, died on February 6th, and Bob wandered the house and property for weeks, crying for his brother, his favorite playmate and closest friend. That made it really hard for me to deal with Cortes's death, not to mention the incredible suddenness of it. He was fine that morning, he ate the antifreeze, two hours later he had been euthanized and was dead. Same with Bob. I had this horrible premonition when we took him in, but I kept trying to shake it off and chalk it up to worry, you know? But I knew there was something seriously wrong. I just knew. I know my cats. He cuddled up to me the night before, but I regret having been out of town all day and spending our last day together away from him. We had one last night together, though. Then the appointment, and within half an hour… boom. That was it. It was devastating.

Fortunately, Corey had the day off and was with me, so after I relinquished Bob's tiny, limp body he took me home and watched an episode of Cosmos with me while I ate cake I had bought the day before from my favorite bakery. I felt some better afterward, but my grief has stayed with me, and at that time worry was also gnawing at the edge of my consciousness as well, because we had to take the other two cats to be tested for feline leukemia, which apparently transmits incredibly easily via saliva. Bob and the other cats weren't very close, so there was little to no grooming going on, but all of the cats do share the same food and water dishes, which could totally pass the disease on to the others. I was going crazy with worry and fear and grief, making sure that I spent time with each of my kitties… in case it was the last time. I was really worried that Juneaux would be sick and I would lose him, because we've been together for so long, and been through so much… he's been the thing that has kept me alive/kept me from attempting suicide several times, and he is the thing that kept me going during my deepest and most miserable times of depression while beginning and trying to deal with the abuse and PTSD in Idaho. He is as near and dear to my heart as my family, and it would destroy me to lose him before he dies of old age.

Corey reminded me that I'm going to lose Juneaux someday anyway, but I told him that there is a huge difference between losing him to old age and losing him to tragedy. It's the same for people. It always tears you apart, but it's just… different.

Took the cats in late yesterday morning, and all of the employees and doctors were very kind and respectful, since they knew I had lost Bob just two days ago. Our regular vet was in that day, so she came back in after testing the two cats and asked me if I wanted the good news, or… the good news? I wasn't sure I heard her right the first time, so I was kind of silly and stunned, asking the same question a few times, but yes-- both Juneaux and Fancy have a clean bill of health. I made sure to get them both vaccinated against feline leukemia right then and there, though we still don't have enough money to cover the other vaccinations. I think they'll be okay. The vet said that one thing that worked in their favor is that they are adults, so their immune system is fully developed and stronger than Bob's was. Also, they don't get into fights regularly like Bob did, so less chance of catching it from other cats. I think that applies to rabies and distemper, as well.

I'm feeling better, emotionally, after having that relief of good news, though I am still grieving hard over Bob. Not constantly… and it's a little easier this time because there are no other kitties wandering around looking for him and crying, and also, Bob used to be out and about for large portions of the day, evening, and sometimes night, so it really just feels like he's out somewhere and he'll come back later. He wasn't constantly underfoot, so I'm not constantly reminded. That helps. I don't know if it'll be counterproductive in the long term to healing, but it feels better right now, and that's kind of all that I care about.

Went to a farewell party for two friends who are moving across the country (stop moving away, mofos!), and it was nice. I enjoyed myself, though for a while it seemed like everyone was just kind of wandering around more or less bored… but V, one of the other women, she insisted that everyone start playing these games that she brought, and that totally made the tone of the party so much better. I fell asleep during the second game, which is kinda surprising because it was super loud and lively, but when I need a nap my body will just go for it, and I had been putting it off all afternoon because I'd been out and about and busy. The man of the moving couple didn't quite seem like himself, which was weird, but then I've never been around him when he's drunk more than one or two beers, so that could be it. It could also just be the stress and grief of moving, especially moving away from such good friends and such a tight community such as we have now. I hope they can find the same happiness where they go. I had a bag of gifts for them, and he texted me later and said that it was a very touching gift, and thank you immensely. That made my heart smile, even if it is heavy that they're leaving. I care about them a great deal, and they have made it clear that they really like Corey and I, so it really sucks that they're moving. It is hard to find a couple our age to hang out with that aren't ghetto assholes or druggies, or with an obviously unhealthy relationship dynamic, and that's just way more drama than we want to expose ourselves to. The moving couple had so many of the same interests, and they have a zero-drama-tolerance philosophy, like us.

So I'm grieving two things. Three, if you count the memory of Cortes's death that's now super fresh and in my face again. I ate some italian food that I probably shouldn't have on Friday when we went out to eat (I begged for Italian over sushi, and now I'm paying for it lol), and now my guts are in a huge uproar. Probably because I ate the leftovers last night when I returned. My intestines sound like water gurgling down a drain pipe. It's definitely a weird sensation. I just wish I could get off of the damn toilet! That's where I'm living today, apparently. I know that my sadness is a large amount of my gut problems. I always have gut problems when I'm stressed out by anything… and losing what to me was legitimately a child, albeit furry... I consider the cats to be like furry human toddlers. That's about the age and communication level we're at together. Also, being unable to carry or bear children of my own… they are truly my surrogate babies. And I've raised most of them from infancy, if not birth. Bob and Cortes were both babies I raised from birth, and Juneaux was only a few months old when I found him. I feel that I have a right to grieve as much as any mother grieves over her lost human child. So, that being said… I know why my guts are all jacked up. Death, loss, stress, grief, loss…. so much loss… I'm just so glad that Corey understands my grieving process and is there to back me up and comfort me when I need it. Love that man.

So I couldn't say anything here or on fb for fear of ruining the surprise, but C and I drove up to Id for J's wedding weekend! Yep. We are now firmly ensconced in the S's home, watching over it while they're all crammed into a hotel room together. I'll be doing some cramming of my own over the weekend, but it's nice to have a peaceful, quiet place to relax in. Although C did most of the driving, it was still a grueling trip, and neither of us are feeling very good right now.

C, J's mom, had told her this morning that she would have a surprise rolling in about noon, but she had no idea it would be us! Her delight and enthusiasm more than made up for the difficulty of the trip, and I for one am thrilled to be here. A HUGE thanks to my mother for supplying the gas money and making it possible!

It is strangely sad, though, to be here and know that D is dead. It casts a solemn pall over what would otherwise be a strictly joyful trip, but that's to be expected. I knew this would happen, and so did C.

Also, when I went outdoors and called Juneaux he appeared immediately and was incredibly happy to see me. He had no troubles remembering his mother at all! That made me happy. I missed my sweet baby boy.

I've been packing and preparing all day, and I'm taking a break. Just a few minutes until I run to the store for some GF oats, so that I can make granola.

A: Animals. Talk about any animals you have, had, or want.

The first pet I ever had was Gonzo the hermit crab. I was probably 3 or 4.

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I thought he was pretty cute. He'd climb around on my hand and it tickled like crazy!

My mom was a substitute teacher at our church's school, so we ended up loaning him to the school as a class pet. I remember the day I came traipsing in, asking for Gonzo, only to find out that they killed him! Yes! They killed my hermit crab! What's more, he didn't even get a proper burial-- they flushed him down the toilet.

Needless to say, I was heartbroken.

I've wanted a constrictor snake ever since I got to hold an albino burmese python at the county fair around age 7 or 8.

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My mom was always afraid it'd get out and eat the cat, though... or the kids. I couldn't stand the thought of losing my cat, so I held off. (The kids? Eh, not so much. ^_^)

I bought a couple of zebra finches with my birthday money one year.

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I named them Donny and Marie. (Yes, after the Osmonds. What can I say?) Our neighbor girl opened the cage and Marie flew away, and then I accidentally killed Donny by leaving him in the summer sun some time later.

However, it was Donny outside in the cage (while he was still alive!) that brought around my beautiful kitten, Autumn.

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I had her for several years. Not long after she joined our family, she presented us with three kittens- Jade, Jasmine, and Panther, all as pitch black as she. When we left Mom to go into foster care and Mom moved in with her boyfriend, they all kind of went feral and disappeared. Panther made a reappearance for a time, but he, too, finally succumbed to the call of the wild.

When K and I rejoined Mom, we settled into our more permanent apartment home, where another black cat, Inkadink (Inky for short) adopted us. He hung around for years, but the family had to give him to the  pound when they moved across the country. He was set for euthanasia, but C worked at the shelter at that time, and told me he escaped. I figured he would. He was a wiley one. Lazy, but smart.

While I was at Bible college, I had a plant named Harvey. He was the best. Very sturdy. I don't know what kind of plant he was, but he was sure happy to see me. He bloomed constantly, even out of season. One day, though, he was tragically snapped in half by my friend's crazy driving. Even though I tried to heal his wounds, he was never the same, and I put him out of his misery after a while.

About six months after moving to Idaho, I found the current love of my life, Juneaux, on the side of the road. He's my baby boy. Unfortunately, he suffers from severe radius curvus, but I simply don't have the means to get it fixed (several thousand dollars). When he's not going through a growth spurt, it doesn't really bother him. He'll never be an outdoors cat, though, because of this. It puts him at a distinct disadvantage for hunting and defending himself. I'll just coddle him indoors. :)

The week after I found him. 

Intently staring at a spider... 

  He pretty much likes chewing on anything of mine.    

     

Playing "Goalie"-- one of our favorite games there at the beginning.

  

"Torpedo"-- definitely his favorite game. (a.k.a. "Crazed Attack Monster")

 

 I taught him to be a regular gentleman ;)

"Helping" me pack for my trip south (Thanks, son. Sure appreciate that.)

Then there's Emily, who isn't mine, but the family's. I insisted that Juneaux needed a sister when we got the phone call about a stray kitten found in the area. She's cute, but a few fries short of a Happy Meal. At least they get along (now).

I can't get over how tired I am lately. Since I've been in Y, it seems that I just can't seem to wake up in the mornings. No matter how early or late I go to bed, it seems that 11 hours of sleep is the number for me. Oh, well. I guess I'll just deal with it, even though it makes me feel like a big fat failure to be rolling out of bed so late.

Maybe my body just knows that I have no real schedule, so it's making up for all the sleep deprivation I endured to get down here in the first place.

And my emotions have taken a hit, from all the excitement and hype of yesterday. I'm just feeling... blah. Kinda down. Kinda lonely. Very definitely fighting longings to be with C. That stirred up all kinds of stuff.

I need to work on my sermon, but I don't really feel like it. But I will anyway. At least I have a title now, and an idea of where I'm going.

I still can't figure out how to get internet on my laptop. I only have one entry on my comp to transfer over, though. I've managed to get ahold of my grandparent's computer anytime I want to write. Maybe I'll find some coffee shop with wi-fi.

So I laid in the sun for a while today, and felt a little better. Then I made some tea. I feel better now, but still tired.

Just... wiped out. From what? Can't say. Just... wiped out.

Oh, and I miss my cat. A lot.

And my family.

And my friends.

*sigh*

Yes, that's right. A real job, with pay and everything!

I've realized, through this summer job hunting process, that I tend to devalue myself. A lot. Especially when it comes to the value of my work.

Anyway, just a passing thought.

So, I'll be working in California for about 4 months. Month #1- travel around to different schools and convince them that our summer camp is thebestplacetobeeverperiod.  Months #2-4- work at the summer camp that's thebestplacetobeeverperiod, and prove myself right.

I am excited. After I got hired yesterday, I began to reminisce about my days at Camp Yavapines... and I got super, super excited! To think that I get to help bring those awesome experiences to other kids is just... awesome. Yeah. I'm stoked. And they'll pay me well, which is an answer to a prayer I've been praying for a while now. Finances have been making me nervous, but I think that this job will bring me out even. Whew.

I was so happy on the way home from work today... Just... happy. Happy to be alive. Happy that Juneaux is okay (more or less). Happy that, today, my world is a good place. The sight of the river stretching and winding towards snow-dusted peaks sent my heart soaring and gliding. The blue sky's reflection on the water sent tremors of pure joy through me. The future is unfolding itself before me, and I am... happy. I had so much energy, thinking of all the things I would accomplish today, and all the things I need to get done before I leave for Az (and Ca, now). I was going to do them all! And I wasn't even overwhelmed by all that I needed to do, which is somewhat of a rarity.

Then, when I got home... I was burnt out. Tired. Headache. It felt like my cortisol levels had just totally bottomed out. So, I've rested a bit, and soon I'll meet with J. Then, this evening, I'm going to get some stuff done!

I'm really feeling the time crunch. Time is just slipping through my fingers... there's so much I want to do...

I'm sad to be leaving. I can't believe it's been a year up here already. I love this place. Everything seems so much more beautiful now that I know I'll be gone for a good chunk of time. And who knows where I'll be after this summer? I plan to come back, but it's obvious how quickly plans can change.

I love my family. I'll be lonely, I'm sure. I'm going to miss my youth group terribly. Even skipping one week of racquetball has got me going through withdrawals!

And, apparently, things with this guy I kinda like won't be panning out, after all. I mean, I'll be gone for 5 months. That's a long time. Maybe I'll meet someone in Ca. Maybe he'll "wait for me". (How romantic!) You never know.
(It occurred to me recently that I've been single for 2 years now. That is an unbelievable accomplishment for me. I'm quite proud of myself. I've become a real person, with a separate, unique identity. I can stand on my own. I've proven it now.)

Well... I guess that's all for now... My thoughts have taken off in other directions.

Is it bad that I don't like those "Christian" sayings? I find myself rolling my eyes sometimes. For instance, this small exchange...
*facebook pic of my friend's bright blue eye*
Girl: Wow, your eye is beautiful!
Friend: They are only truly beautiful when they are on Jesus. :)

The worst part is... I bet she really means it. But my first response is, "Ugh. Okay, whatever."

It's not that I don't believe in God. It's not even that I don't love Him. (I want to, and I try, but I'm not sure that what I have to offer counts as love.) I'm just burnt out on christianityism. You know... looking and acting and sounding "christian". Maybe it's more pronounced because I come from a denomination that urges its members to "be separate from the world"... and as a result you end up with a whole culture in and of itself. The particular subculture I found myself in prides itself on its ability to deflect any statement of personal worth and value.
"You did a good job." "Oh, praise the Lord!"
"You look nice today." "Praise God."
"You're a good person. That was very nice of you." "It's only because of Jesus."

Just take the stinking compliment, already!!!

*End Rant*

That being said, I have been reflecting this morning on how risky love is.

My cat is limping very pronouncedly. (This is related, I promise.) I can tell he's hurting. But I already took him to the vet for this once, and they couldn't find a problem. Now, the limp is worse (I've been watching it for some time), and I feel like I'm being stabbed through the heart when I watch him make his pitiful way towards me. I don't care how little I have in savings. I'll spend it all, even if I have to skip my trip to Az, to make sure my cat is healthy.

The thing is, Juneaux is more than a cat to me... he's my son. My baby boy. Flesh of my flesh and bone of my bone. Sure, we speak different languages. Sure, he's a lot hairier than I am. Sure, we're different species. But God brought him to me when I was so hurting and broken... so doubting of the nature of love... so unsure whether it was even worth trying this "love" thing with God...

And then I found Juneaux. He has been my delight, my comfort, my laughter, my satisfaction... he's been there for basically my entire healing process. His antics bring me joy. His purring and kneading soothe my soul. (It is, after all, nice to be kneaded. Hah!) He's... a part of me.

So now, I find my son in pain, and it hurts me. I want to make him better. (I'll be calling the vet as soon as I'm done here-- they've just opened.)

And I'm scared. What if this is a sign of something bigger wrong with him? What if he just gets worse and worse? What if they can't figure out what's wrong with him? What if he.... dies?

I read a statement by a fellow Christian recently. It said, "Whatever you fear the most will inevitably come to pass."

What a crappy outlook on life. But I'm afraid it's true. (Hah. Afraid it's true... so if it is, it would inevitably be true simply because I'm afraid it is true, and... never mind.) So I'm begging God to let me keep my cat. Just the thought of losing him is torturous.

And so I see what a precarious place love is. With love comes need. It necessitates risk. What if this, what if that? What if the loved one chooses not to love back?

I think of this as I see a potential relationship in front of me. If this thing moves forward... if love grows... it will involve risk. Any relationship that entails love is risky.

C and I took that risk... and I walked away. It shattered both of us, but it had to be done.

I think of this as I look at God. He says he loves us. He says he loves me. This puts him in a position of risk. If he loves me, and I walk away... it is painful. To both of us. I may not realize the pain as swiftly and keenly (it has a way of spreading itself out and seeping through the different aspects of life), but we both hurt.

Does God see me the same way that I see Juneaux? Feeling the weight of my pain in his chest, wanting to make it better... if only I will let him... and doing everything he can to make sure that I won't walk away, because he doesn't want me to... ??

Sounds awesome. God, are you really like that? Is that how you feel about me?

Artichokes are funny things. You can't really get full on them, yet they're so delicious (especially dipped in seasoned, melted butter) that it's totally worth it. More like a delicacy than a meal, really. And the closer you get to the middle, the more tender and delicate and mouth-wateringly intoxicating they become until... you reach the artichoke heart. That wonderful morsel just melts away on your tongue, leaving you to wonder why the whole artichoke can't be made of the same stuff?

Well, anyway, life is made up of more than just artichokes. Like, for instance, kittens. Like, for instance, Juneaux.

 I'm learning alot from this cat about God, and unconditional love. Oddly enough, I found him on a deeply distressing night--the night I quit smoking again. I was heading home to confess to the folks that I'd started, and to ask for help (a step forward in admitting that I can't fix myself), but I was so absorbed in thinking about it that I overshot my turn and kept going... until I saw a kitten in the road. I tried to catch him for 20 minutes that night, but wasn't successful, so I took K with me the next night and we grabbed him (after another 20 minutes).

He was SO contradictory! He yearns for love and affection--you can see it in his response to sweet talking--but he won't let you get close enough to pet him. (Well, he didn't. A couple of days shut in my room has broken him, and he's the sweetest little thing.)

He was so hungry for love, but so skittish that he wouldn't let me help him. Why can't you see, O kitten, that I desire nothing but your good? (And here come the parallels between me and God...) I'm just trying to love you. Won't you let me?

So then I got to practice unconditional love when this cat woke me up at 5 a.m.... 2 mornings in a row. After being up with him till 11:30 the night before. Have. Mercy. And yet, I still love this kitten. Why? Certainly not because he's perfect, but because he's mine. I saved him from the unknown terrors of the wild. I love him. I want him to be happy. Is any of this ringing a bell within your heart, woman??

I really wish that I could get this through my head and make it my reality. I want love, too. But man, it's such a scary thing to let someone get close. What if I get hurt?