Marching On

The Full Story

I actually fell over Miss Lila three weeks ago. 

My ankle was sore and just got worse and worse, to the point I can no longer tackle stairs, nor can I drive.

I finally relented and went to the doctors last night, where I got the fab news and that I can expect pain for another couple of months.  She suggested I buy shares in Nurofen.

This makes work is a problem.  I am really busy completing the quarter's work (and helping other teams complete theirs) and I also found out yesterday that one of my team mates has just been signed off with a slipped disc.  Strangely he injured his back three weeks ago and has soldiered on for the same reasons, but he is also unable to drive.  His doctor signed him off.  Mine refused on the grounds that I do not need a note for an absence of under seven days and that is all I would require.

So I now have to take on his work as well as my own, because I am not officially signed off.  And I can't walk or drive.

I worked from home today and I will be off tomorrow.  I can't take anymore at the moment.  Thank fuck I have a sympathetic manager.

For example, and this was completely out of character, but Lila threw up again in the car on the way to puppy classes and I burst into tears.  Seriously unlike me.  Admittedly it didn't help that she had managed to clamber out of the boot, over the back seat, where she threw up and then into the footwell of the front seat, tracking dog sick on her merry way, but tears were a little extreme.

Not unsurprisingly, my cycle has been shot to buggery again.  Ironic, since we decided to actually try this month.  I seem to remember from university that conception requires an ovum, and that ovulation tends to help in that process.  My ova are clearly so stressed on my behalf that they have buggered off to Barbados on an all expenses paid trip.  If only they took me too............

Still, we've managed a decent amount of shagging.  That helped take my mind off of my ankle pain, I can tell you!

However, it isn't all doom and gloom here.  I gave Lila a grape.

Know this about my dog.  She is unhinged.  Totally.

So I gave her a grape.  She batted it around for a while (her identity crisis has not lessened, despite puppy training classes) in true Ellie style.  Then she decided to bark at it for ten minutes solid - since I am high on painkillers I don't give a fuck about the noise.  My neighbours probably do, but they can kiss my chocolate brownie fed arse.

I digress. So she barked.

And barked some more.

When she tired of that, she whimpered at it.  I left her to it.  She was very clearly occupied with The Grape, and did not need my attention.

The noise tapered off.  She came trotting into the living room, looking pleased with herself.  I assumed that she had finally realised it was food.  But no.

I told her to sit.  She did.  On my bloody leather sofa.  She made herself right at home, curling herself up next to the arm.

I went to remove the cheeky little bitchbag, when she opened her mouth, probably to bite me.  Out rolled that bloody grape.  Intact.

That seemed to surprise her.  It did me.  So she decided to bark at it a little more.

She is still at it now.

Has it only been....

...two days since I last posted? It feels much longer.

I will post some dawg pictures soon........I really will. Lila is simply gorgeous (if a little on the bitey side) and is growing like a weed. Or is it a wild flower?

In the meantime, we have been busy with socialising the young Miss. She is very taken with her uncle, and he with her. Very cute to watch a huge dog playing so gently with a puppy, even when that puppy takes incredible liberties. She clambers all over his huge head and he gums her. She steals his food. He sniffs her girly bits.

In cat news, Willow has taken to sleeping on the stuffed rottweiler upstairs. All the time. I'm not sure whether she actually gets up more than twice a day, which would conveniently coincide with feeding time. She just loves that rottweiler, and likes to be stroked whilst wrapped around its head. Hopefully this bodes well for her long-term relationship with the dawg.

Ellie appears to be possessed by Harvey. This is very strange, but she has picked up every one of his annoying habits with gusto. She likes to stand on the balcony and howl. She knocks things over when she doesn't get her own way. She bosses everyone around, and this has only happened in the last two weeks. It is nice to feel that he lives on here with us all, but luckily Ellie has kept all of her own sweet habits (and her less sweet ones, like trying to stick her arse in my face).

Charlie and Frankie are the same as ever. Laid back and lazy. My wonderful loving boys. They are always together now, and my fear of Frankie's face remaining forever unwashed has blown away after watching Charlie tenderly cleaning Frankie's face.

Hollie is brave. She still spends a little time under the bed, but mostly she she sleeps in the bathroom or on my pillow. She will corner Lila and whop her across the face before running. She still whops me in the face if I don't wake up at night and fuss her. She has a very loving heart, but a nervous body.

A cage in the local RSPCA centre may well be empty in the near future. A pure white boy with black splodges and a thirst for love and affection is awaiting the results of his blood tests. He is not a replacement for Harvey, but he reminds me of him in a very good way. Like the way I found Charlie, something led me there to find him.

In people news, the Baron is still off work with stress. At the moment, he is fart arsing around the garden and digging up the beds. He seems quite content and we will have an amazing vegetable garden come spring, thanks to his hard work.

Me?

Good days and bad days. The weekend, and last night were bad.

Today is a little better. But even now, as I sit here and look out over the gardens and fields, part of me expects a little white and tabby face to appear from behind the fence and come running in to me (Harvey would shimmy up the conservatory to come in at the window, miaowing and purring at the same time). And it hurts everytime I remember that he will never do that again.

The death of a cat is insignificant in the grand scheme of things. People say

"it was only a cat"
"these things happen"
"enjoy your other cats"
"you can always get another"
"its been two weeks, get over it"

but to me, this is a very real and painful loss. I loved that cat so damn much.

I do love all of my cats very much, and we are adopting another cat, but this doesn't in anyway stop the pain of knowing that my beloved, my first, my special cat is no more. It might have been two weeks, but that has just been two weeks in the rest of my lifetime that I will live without my HarveyCat.

It is hard.

Irony

We moved here because we thought it was safer for the cats.

Not so. For obvious reasons.

Before he was killed, Harvey used to fight with a local cat. Pretty little girl - all black with white feet. Both wanted to rule the neighbourhood.

Guess who we found today?

Harvey's nemesis. Killed on the same stretch of road.

What are the odds?

I bet they are still fighting now.

A week

It's been a week. Just one week.

This time last week, we were out searching for our errant cat. It was snowing, but we hoped he was just being naughty and following us.

The Baron thought he saw a little white face peeking out from under a tree. I felt him nearby. We were wrong.

Harvey was several hundred metres away, by the side of the road.

But we were right. We are both sure that he found us that night to say goodbye.

I can't believe it has been a week.

When will it get better?

The day started off so well. I didn't cry when Harvey wasn't there to trip me up. I smiled when I saw the obvious pleasure Charlie gets from being the first to eat. Ellie spent five minutes twisting around my ankles and Willow sat on my lap whilst I got ready. Frankie followed me everywhere I went.

Then the post came. All of the cats micro-chip certificates had arrived. Including Harvey's.

Fat lot of good that will do him.

I remember when I took him to have it done. I was holding him - it is one big fuck off needle they use - and he cried out. I held him whilst the vet finished all the paperwork. We hadn't moved yet, but to save the change of address fee we put down my new address. I joked that I'd better not lose him or he'd get there before we would!

He was micro-chipped. He had his vaccinations. He was wormed and de-flea'd. I treated his weak eye whenever it got inflamed and sore. I took care of his teeth. But none of it was enough.

I love all of my pets but I can feel myself pulling away from them. I cannot go through this with each of them.

All change

Harvey is gone. The house just doesn't feel the same without that little bugger and the way he ruled us all with a furry paw. I miss him so much it still hurts. I am having trouble eating and sleeping, and my concentration is shot to buggery.

Frankie does nothing but sit on the windowsill, looking down on Harvey's grave and crying. Charlie sits with him, and grooms his face. Harvey used to groom Frankie's face.

Ellie and Willow sit in the spare bedroom together, and Hollie comes out in the evening to check on me.

But things must move on.

We had arranged to pick up Lila on Saturday, before Harvey carried out his badly thought out attack on a moving car.

But we decided to bring that forward. Partly because the cats are so stressed anyway and partly as a distraction.

So, without further ado, I present to you:

Miss Lila!

The End

Harvey went missing on Sunday. The last I saw of him was him gleefully climbing the fence to look at the birds at next door's birdtable.

We called him intermittently all afternoon. As it grew closer to dusk, we went out and checked all around the neighbourhood.

All through the night we went out looking for him. He'd never been out after dark. It was cold and snowing, and he hated the cold. He wouldn't go outside if it was cold.

Even then I knew that something was wrong. He would have come if he could have.

I went to bed in the early hours. The Baron continued to search. At five, I felt a cat land on me. My heart soared - Harvey was home!

But it wasn't Harvey. It was Charlie taking over Harvey's job of waking me.I counted the minutes until the sun rose. Then I walked around the neighbourhood again, in my dressing gown. In the snow. The neighbours were surprised!

I had to leave for work. The Baron carried out on looking. He made a poster for us to put up.

Work was awful - I couldn't concentrate. I came home as soon as I could, and sped down the motorway.

We set off around the neighbourhood with our posters, torches and cat treats. Nothing like his favourite biscuit to lure him home.

It was so cold, it was difficult to push the tacks in to hold up the posters. We plastered the village from one end to the other. We put a few up outside the school, knowing that the children would want to help by checking garages and sheds.

We came home and waited. It didn't take long.My phone rang. It was a woman asking if I had put up the posters. I could feel hope spreading through me as she spoke. Then the two words.

"Bad news"

That was it. All over.

She came over to tell me in person.Harvey had been found on Sunday evening after a church meeting. He had been hit by a car on the sharp corner that brings you into our village. There wasn't a mark on him.

He was already cold, and there was nothing that could be done. They took his body out of the road and wrapped him up, so as not to upset the children the next morning on the way to school.They put notes through the houses nearest to explain, since Harvey would not wear a collar. Kept chewing them off.

The next day she saw us putting up our posters. And she knew who to call.

I collected his body and brought him home. The Baron didn't want to see his body, but I had to. I cuddled him whilst the Baron dug him a grave in the garden. The others came and sniffed him.

I didn't want to put him down again. He started to warm in my arms, and I could feel that his back had been broken. His end had come quickly. Too fucking quickly - he was two and a half.

The Baron left me to bury Harvey - he couldn't do it. I cuddled him and placed him in his grave. I threw the earth over his face first and I thought my heart would break. To see my baby, so full of life and mischief, lying in a hole in the fucking ground, still, cold and lifeless, was too much.I shut my eyes as I finished covering him.

I couldn't bear to see any part of him there. He didn't belong there, he belonged on my bed cuddling his brother.

And that was that.

We have marked his resting spot with some beautiful stones. White with black speckles, just like him. The Baron has made him a little headstone, and I have put my favourite cat ornament on his grave.Harvey is the first thing I see when I open my curtains in the morning.

I just can't believe that he is out there and not here with us. I can't believe that he is gone.

Harvey Cat. My first, my best, my soul cat.

My Baby Bat Ears

Harvey didn't feel the cold last night.

He sleeps in the garden next to his favourite tree, under the eyes of those who loved him best.

Harvey, my little furry angel, I will miss you forever.

Still

Still snowing.

Still cold.

Still the Baron is in pain.

Still no cat in sight.

As if things couldn't get any worse..

The Baron is in a lot of pain, and can barely turn his head, let alone walk. I just fused all the lights upstairs. And to top things off........

Harvey is missing. It is snowing and it is dark.

I hate this miserable fucking weekend.