|Me too, Rose. Me, too. Someone had a long day. Can you fall asleep like this?|
27 May 2013
22 May 2013
|G graduated from (City Name) North High School last weekend. Here's a pic I snapped before we went in for the ceremony.|
|Elf and Emperor keep riding bikes that are wayyy too small for them because they never quite learnt to do it the proper way on a larger bike.|
|See? They had lots of fun trying, though.|
|Woodjie loves playing outside!|
|Flower in my front yard.|
17 May 2013
Which means I'm off-kilter, really. The people who live with me will tell you it doesn't take much.
Elf opened the fridge and an entire package of salami somehow fell out, flipped upside-down, opened, and spilled all over the floor.
It was tragic! That was D's salami. He had juuust bought it at Sam's Club. Sam's Club is 20 minutes away, so that's like a whole hour's worth of work right there when you consider the shopping that has to be done.
So I'm annoyed. I tell Elf to pick up the salami, put the dirty parts in the trash and save the clean stuff.
And he goes and throws the whole package away! He made sure to mix all the salami up during the clean-up process, too.
I tried explaining to him that you only throw away the parts that actually touched the ground, not the clean stuff that is on top of the dirty stuff. I'm even getting little papers out and demonstrating the process on my kitchen counter with an annoyed tone. Elf is explaining that everything is touching everything so it all gets chucked.
I'm so mad. I made him call his dad at work to explain what happened because I sure wasn't gonna be the fall guy for all this. And I was all miffed about this and some other stuff and Patrick just tells Elf, "She just needs something to be mad about right now."
Goody! I've sure found something now! Now I'm all mad at Patrick. Lots of bickering ensues.
Have you had one of those mornings recently?
I haven't been feeling well and Emperor kindly reviewed all my symptoms and came up with "influenza." He said this was "quite likely, as you display at least one respiratory symptom and one constitutional symptom."
Yeah, my freedom of speech thing has been in full force lately, but I'm not saying anything because that's been getting me into trouble.
"How long has this been going on?" he wondered. I told him about two weeks.
"It's not influenza, then," he said. "Given that you have had some cold symptoms earlier, it still could be, but it's unlikely."
Patrick tells me my symptoms indicate "lack of good sleep," and that I might go try that sometime and see if my life improves. Brilliant.
11 May 2013
10 May 2013
04 May 2013
01 May 2013
|The author at home.|
Poor cat. She has never been this sick before. And it's only getting worse. It seemed just yesterday that she was looking up to me, begging to be petted. I shooed her away. Now that she is suffering, I feel so guilty.
She's been left in the room, practically climbing the walls. It's almost as if she's looking for a way out, looking for someone, looking for an escape from the prison she's in.
Before we see her, mom calls the eldest children, my two big brothers. I hear mother telling them something about Mopsy that I couldn't hear. Then mom says for us to wait while my brothers say "Hi," to Mopsy. I can tell from her look that there's more to this than she's letting on.
My big brothers come down the stairs, saying they had their turn. Now, it's my turn to talk to her. I go into the kitchen to talk to Mopsy.
She looks terrible. I've never seen her like this. She lies on the floor, her breathing raspy. Her eyes seem to look as they are hard for her to lift. Her eyes look up to me, almost begging for me to help her. I say things to Mopsy. I stroke her once sleek black fur, now in tatters because her illness causes her to lose hair.
"I'm sorry for you, Mopsy," I say. "And I wish this didn't happen to you."
I start choking up. Tears run down my cheeks as I wish I was powerful enough to help her. But I'm not a doctor. I'm not an expert. I'm not a superhero. I'm not God. I'm a boy that wishes he could help her. I'm a normal boy, who wants to help the cat he's known for his entire life. I'm a boy who wants to keep the cat alive.
What can I do?
Her green eyes seem to be begging for help, begging not to go through this, begging for it to be over, and I am helpless to help her. Down the stairs I went, letting my younger brother say his words to her.
After a while, my brother comes down the stairs, crying. My mother tells me words that I knew were coming. I knew the words before she said them. I knew she came to tell me:
"Mopsy is dead."
I knew the words were coming, but I couldn't help crying after she said them. I bury my face in my mother's embrace feeling the warmth of the people who are still with me.
Even years later, I remember the day well. The memory of Mopsy remains, even if her body doesn't. Even though I've gotten over it, I still can't ignore the scar death has left in my life.
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