Schrodinger's Kittie

Twelve years and five months ago a very special friend came into my life.  He was so small that he fit into the palm of my hand easily.  He was so fluffy his eyes were just two tiny spots of black brightness in a ball of fur.  From the moment he came into my life, he was a special, intelligent and loving friend.  He learned quickly and loved unconditionally.  And, six months later, when my ex refused to let me take him with me when we broke up – this little bundle of love made my ex’s life a living hell until he called and had me come pick him up.  From that moment on, my bundle of mischief earned his name, Loki.

My life has had its shares of ups and downs, like any life.  There have been jobs that have come and gone.  Friends have come and gone.  Relationships have come and gone.  My residence has changed so many times I’ve lost count, and everything I’ve owned has cycled through my hands to the point that I don’t have much of anything that has lasted longer than 5 years.

My son has spent as much time away from me as with me.  Let’s not comment on your particular opinion of me as a mother because of that.  The reasons were sound and seemed for the best with the information available at the time.  My parents are constant and true – but, they aren’t with me … they are there for me.  They love me and cherish me; but, they are a continent away…sometimes farther than that.  My sister and her family and all the rest of my family (Gordon and Debbie included) are wonderful, loving and just bless me completely.  But, they aren’t here.  The one, solid constant I’ve had in my life for the last 12 years – longer than anything else in my life – has been my friend, Loki.

His heart was bigger than this solar system.  No one who ever met him could help themselves – even those who hated dogs – they would inevitably fall prey to his precious soul.  You’d find people who claim to be anti-dog slipping their hands down to pet him.  And, random people on the street couldn’t help but just fall in love with him.  I lost count of how many said they wanted him to go home with them (even my sister).  He just had a presence about him that reached out and touched you where you hurt most, and made it all ok.

And, not just with people.  He helped me reach out and touch the lives of many animal rescues through the course of his life.  So many that needed social rehabilitation, or reassurance that not all of life is meant to be spent at the end of a human’s cruelty.  When I brought Bartleby home broken and wounded, Loki did more to help him come around than I ever could.  His simple presence that just accepted and gave, without going past Bartleby’s comfort zone, made it possible for that broken and wounded dog to become the sweet and loving and happy dog that he was.  And, when Valkyrie needed a home, again, he accepted her and brought her out of her shivering, cowering shell and showed her that even though small, she could be fierce and happy.

And me…well…what I told my father says it best:

He pulled me through nights that I wasn’t at all sure I wanted to pull through.  He is the reason I had for getting up in the morning, making it through the day and just taking care of myself.  Because he relied on me, he needed me, he trusted me to take care of him and he loved me – even when I fell down on the job.  It didn’t matter one whit to him…I was still “mama” and he loved me anyway.

He was happy and full of life.  Even on the day he passed away, he was bouncing and playing ball and convinced he was 10 years younger than he actually was.  He quickly faded, though.  By the time midnight rolled around he was in serious cardiac distress.  We rushed him to the emergency room where they said that his heart was failing due to congestive heart failure and pulmonary edema with a very bad heart murmur.   After much discussion (re: arguing), crying, wailing and otherwise denying that he wasn’t going to be living through the night, we made the decision to have him put down.  I refused to let them do it without me present.  He was there for me through all the hard times in my life.  It was only right that I be there when he slipped this mortal coil.  The vet brought him in to the room where I snuggled with him for a little while and committed to my mind the feel of his fur between my hands and the trust and love pouring out from him as he leaned into me.  Eventually, I gave in and let the vet do his job.  And, I held my dear, dear friend as he breathed his last breath, my heart breaking.

I will never forget my dear friend.  He will always be writ deep upon my heart and the hearts of all who had the joy of ever meeting him – human and animal alike.  We will never be the same, forever changed for the better, because of his gentle, loving presence. He blessed this world by being in it.  I only hope I blessed his life by being his human.  

I never was very good at remembering to put the great in front of “Grandaddy”. There was just a tone I’d get in my voice that would differentiate between Meemaw and Grandaddy and….my grandaddy.

The term “salt of the earth” has been around a long time. Some of you might even use it from time to time. Well, that was grandaddy. I don’t think I ever saw him in a bad mood.  He just took life as it came and kept putting one foot in front of the other with an unshakable resolve…and, never with a bad attitude.  Maybe that’s just a young woman’s memory filtering out the negative; but, I don’t believe that is the case.  I have heard nary a negative word about my great-grandaddy spoken, even in passing.

We would follow him around like little shadows – and, his house.  I loved his house.  We’d sit out on the porch with him and just … just be.  There was nothing ever so peaceful as the time with grandaddy on his porch.  Oh how I loved to go with him to check on the cows.  We’d pile into the truck and go down the road a ways…it wasn’t all that far down the road – just before the little bridge at the bend in the road.  Down the dirt track, back a ways we’d go bumping along.  And, there they’d be.  Or we’d wander over the property.  I remember days before the property that is now “Possum Bottom” was developed.  We’d wander down the little creek and grandaddy would remind us to be careful of snakes.  I can’t say I ever worried about them.  Somehow you just knew everything would be ok because grandaddy was there.  Nothing could go wrong if grandaddy was around.

When he was struck down with his illness (believed to have been a heat stroke), I was attending Auburn at Montgomery and would stop by every day to visit with him. He loved to see me in my ROTC uniform.  As I’d walk in he’d say, “There she is.” He had trouble talking because he was partially paralyzed. I always regretted that I kept putting off asking him to tell me in his own words so many of the stories I had heard second and third hand. But, I would sit for hours with him just knowing he would get better. He was my hero and he was going to live to see my great grandchildren. There was nothing my great-grandaddy couldn’t do. I just knew it. I would rattle on at him about my classes and so many things of no real consequence.  I cherish that time with him.  It was a great gift.

When I left Alabama in September of 1990 to go to basic training for the USAF, it never dawned on me that my farewell to him was more than just a temporary thing. When I got the call that November day at technical school, I couldn’t comprehend what they were telling me. Then it clicked and I understood. I fell apart and cried for two days. I cried so much and so hard that I couldn’t eat.  I could hardly talk.  The instructors were so concerned that they actually put me on suicide watch.  They just couldn’t understand. My hero – the man who was able to do anything he put his mind to…he was gone. He wasn’t supposed to be gone.  He was supposed to sit on the porch with my great-grandchildren and tell them stories about his first car and how things had changed since he was born in 1895…he just wasn’t supposed to die. And, worst of it all – I wasn’t there to say goodbye. Oh, I know it makes no logical sense.  We all die.  But, even at 19 years of age, somehow I had this deep, firmly entrenched belief that he would always be there.  And he was gone.

He was – and to this day still is – my hero. He was bigger than life and had a heart to match. Always, he had time for me.  Always, he had a hug and a smile. He never minded me being his shadow and loved to tell tales. He had a way of making the world just seem a brighter and better place.

I have to say that it’s always interesting when the universe at large tosses such a plethora of roadblocks in your way as if to ask, “Are you truly certain you wish to do what you are setting out to do?”

One such example of this type of event is our trip to Alabama this last weekend to be married.  If any of you have ever seen the movie Forces of Nature you will be snickering and wondering if I am possibly trying to play on the movie.  I assure you…all I am about to write is exactly what happened from the evening of September the 1st to the evening of September the 2nd.  Bear in mind, we had to be in Montgomery County, Alabama before the courts closed on the 3rd so we could have our license in hand for the service on Sunday the 5th.

Wednesday, 1st September 2010, 7PM PST:

The car is packed and we begin the drive to Los Angeles where we will stay the night so not to be rushed in the morning; and, to avoid having to deal with rush hour traffic into LA. On the way, my phone rings. This truly is as unusual as that sentence makes it sound. I answer and it is my bank’s fraud department worried about some transactions that had taken place. They are breaking up pretty badly and I lose the connection. I figure I will deal with it once we reach the hotel.

Wednesday,  1st September 2010, 9PM PST:

We reach the hotel and get checked in.  All seems to be in order.  I pull out the laptop and log in to my bank…to discover that the temporary hold that had been placed on my card was due to $339.43 in various charges to sites such as Match.com and CCBILLEU.com (which I later found out tends to service the credit card needs of adult entertainment websites).  After much difficulty, I managed to get the fraud department on the line (that number is now permanently saved into my phone, it was so hard to get) – I had them laughing and they were extremely helpful.  The young man commiserated with me about the fact that I was heading to a state that did not have any BoA locations (not kidding) and said that if I had time to hit a local bank before we depart LA in the morning, I would be able to get a temporary card.  So, all my money was refunded and my card canceled.  But, no biggie – I will get a temporary one come morning.  Tuck ourselves into bed in a surprisingly nice room and sleep fairly well.

Thursday, 2nd September 2010, 7AM PST:

All packed up with the room paid for and breakfast on the way, all looks great.  Though – could someone please explain to me the portions provided by American restaurants?  Seriously.  I got what I thought would be a light breakfast…yogurt, granola, fresh fruit and an English muffin.  The bowl of granola was HUGE.  I expected it to be small like the bowl for the yogurt…mistake on my part for not asking first.  And, they brought milk with the granola which I had no interest in consuming. The fruit was three times what I expected (though very tasty).  I hate leaving food behind; but, there was no way I was going to eat all that food.  It astounds me that you aren’t offered a portions option or something – they won’t even let you order from the child’s menu if you are over a certain age, even if that is all you care to eat.

Thursday, 2nd September 2010, 9AM PST:

The bank has opened, we have found it without trouble (thank you GPS) and I am one of the first customers of the day – only to find out that since my account was opened in Texas, not California, they cannot provide me a temporary card.  This does not make me feel overly thrilled, I assure you.  So, I withdraw some money – part in cash and part in a cashier’s check.  I just really did not feel comfortable walking around with that much cash on my person.  As I’m leaving the bank, it dawns on me that I have an account with another bank, and I have the debit card for that bank in my wallet.  We look for the closest branch (thank you GPS) and find that it is literally in the same parking lot.  So, in I go and deposit the cashier’s check and all is right with our world.  Working debit card, and a half hour early to the parking garage.  Catastrophe avoided and we are ahead of schedule – always a good thing when girding up to enter the maelstrom that is LAX.

Thursday, 2nd September 2010, Noon PST:

The flight is just now boarding.  We were supposed to be departing at this point in time.  I’m a touch concerned since our connecting flight is so close to ours; but, I’ve never missed a flight in my life and figure we will make up some time in the air…until they discover a used needle in the plane’s lavatory and take 20 minutes to do what should have taken merely two.  We arrive at Houston’s George Bush airport three minutes before our departing flight …well, departs.  Yeah.  We arrive in terminal C…our departing flight is in terminal B.  Panic sets in until the pilot informs us that the flights know we were delayed and we just need to get to our connecting flights as quickly as possible.  We arrive at our gate – to find no plane to board.  It had left on time.  Wonderful!

The “customer service” individual tells us that the best they can do is put us on standby for the last flight of the night which departs at 8:05 PM CST.  We ask about any other flights and are told that all flights through Monday are booked solid.  Our only option is standby.  So…off we go to sit standby for the next departing flight.  We had a grand time while waiting.  Lots of laughter and teasing.  A young girl on her way home for the weekend from college to visit her family and an older gentleman whose wife was not quite understanding what was happening when he tried to call and let her know had both been on the same delayed flight as us.  This meant there were four of us sitting standby for the upcoming flight.  Mike and I determined that if there were only two seats available, we’d give up ours and just drive to Birmingham…where my bag was already headed without us….my bag that had my wedding dress, pearls, shoes, etc in it.

Thursday, 2nd September 2010, 8:05PM CST:

The standby calls were made and only two seats were available.  Time to catch the bus over to the rental car terminal and see what was available for a one way trip from Houston to Birmingham.  We finally find one that won’t cost us an arm and a leg – only to have them tell me my card was declined.  I could not believe it.  I had deposited my money and thus knew the money had to be in the account, right?  We go over to the ATM machine only to find a lonely 58¢ in said bank account.  Because it had been a cashier’s check and not cash, they had not instantly credited it to my account.

We attempt to use Mike’s card, but it is just a touch short of what we needed to get the car.  I am about ready to throw my hands in the air and give up when I recall that Mike has a PayPal debit card.  I ask him if he has it with him.  He does.  I ask the rental car guy (Kenneth) if the rental terminal has wifi…it does not.  So, we head back to the airport to use the wifi service.  After painful moments attempting to connect, I manage to transfer money from my original bank account via PayPal to Mike’s PayPal account – where he instantly has it available on his debit card.

Thursday, 2nd September 2010, 10:35PM CST:

We have successfully acquired a vehicle for a one way trip to the Birmingham airport – where my father and son will make a second trip (since the first one was a bust) and pick us and my bag up and take us down to Montgomery to pick up the license…we are on our way. The drive was actually quite uneventful and lovely. Particularly one stretch of about 87 miles through a national forest. We were blessed to be able to help a man who was in difficulty and making his day a little brighter, because of driving to Alabama. And, we arrived into Birmingham International Airport around 11:30AM CST on the 3rd. This gave us enough time to get the bag, get lunch, and drive the two hours south to Montgomery to get the license (which was essentially waiting for us thanks to “who you know”) and were down to the house in plenty of time to have a couple hours to decompress before heading back into Montgomery to have a family dinner celebrating Mama and Matt’s birthdays.

Definitely a case of “are you sure you want to do this?” It would have been so easy to quit along the way. I’m certainly glad we did not. I love my honey and the wedding and the visit was worth every moment of stress and anxiety to get from California to Alabama.