Intensely Inert

Around the time my husband and I were trying to decide between going to see Moonrise Kingdom or Safety Not Guaranteed, our eleven-year-old daughter came in our room frantic that one of our cats, Romeo, hadn’t come back since he had been let out earlier in the day. She was afraid that someone had taken him. She was starting to cry and get hysterical, which she does pretty much every time he is gone longer than she thinks he should be. We tried to calm her down, reminding her that he goes outside a lot and he’ll come back when he’s ready. We invited her to come with us to see Moonrise Kingdom (BTW, If I could hug a movie, I would hug this one!) She reluctantly agreed though she was torn between coming with us and sticking around to see if Romeo came back.

When we got back home, he was still absent. We tried calling for him, we tried shaking some cat food in a bowl, but no answer. This was not out of the ordinary. Sometimes he is just out of earshot, or just isn’t ready to come in. Our daughter was in hysterical tears again begging us to help look for him. It was dark out and Romeo is a black cat. When we both declined, trying to explain the difficulty, she just sobbed more. My husband decided it would be a good time for him to go for a drive to escape the sobbing that was going to continue until? He didn’t want to wait around to find out how long she was going to keep sobbing loudly and begging for us to look for him. I was a little irked that he was leaving me alone in this, so I said flatly, “Have a nice drive.”

After he left, I tried calming her down a bit. I assured her that if he didn’t return by morning, we would put signs up and look for him and ask around. This seemed to help. Less than five minutes after my husband left, he called me. He found Romeo. Romeo was dead. He found him right behind the wall of our backyard that leads to an easement which runs parallel to the sidewalk behind our house. The theory is that he had been hit by a car, probably several hours before my husband found him. So, while my husband came back to get a “shroud” (tall kitchen bag –notice that I am having a difficult time writing the word “trash” or “garbage” in conjunction with the container in which we placed our deceased cat, even though one of those words is really supposed to go in between the word “kitchen” and “bag”) I told my daughter, who was already beginning to guess there was bad news. We held each other and sobbed together over Romeo.

This was Sunday. I started writing this on Tuesday and now it’s Wednesday. I simply don’t want to do anything productive at all. There is this little grey cloud of gloom that seems to be following me around. No, that’s not exactly it. What I want to do is start in on some of or at least one of my story ideas and get back to creative fiction writing. I also want to start one more knit or crochet project before I begin my projects for the “Formerly-known-as-Ravelympics-but-now-known-as -The-Ravellenic-Games.”  But I don’t want to do anything. I just want to sit passively and take things in. After the whole intense emotional outbursts between my daughter and myself, we’re  drained. She hasn’t been sleeping well at night. I think last night was the first night I managed a decent night’s sleep, so that, and exercising this morning for the first time since january 27th of this year gave me the little bit of extra push I needed to finish this post. If it weren’t for giving my word to post something here every first and third Friday of the month, who knows if I’d get any writing done at all aside from responding to emails and commenting on Facebook –which I don’t really count as writing. I am tired of being inert! I want to get back to my stories! I want to get back to my crafting! I want to take a nap.

By the time this posts, ask me if I’ve done either of those two things! Maybe that will help? By Friday, I will have either done some knitting or crocheting and/or I will have started back up with my fiction writing. Oh, heck, while we’re at it, ask me if I exercised anymore since Wednesday. No more inertia! It’s time for motion!

Above: Romeo Relaxing on the wicker chair.

Below: Ceana and Romeo happy together.

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7 thoughts on “Intensely Inert

  1. Sorry for the loss of your cat. I can completely relate. We lost our dog of 14 1/2 years in a similar fashion about a week after my youngest daughter was born. Talk about emotionally drained. What did you accomplish yesterday? Better yet, what do you have on tap for today?

  2. Donna, I am so sorry. Have you found the energy to move into something creative?
    I dread the day we lose one of our cats. Hugs to you all.

  3. Donna, I’m so sorry too. If you can bring yourself to write, I’d love to see it. I don’t know many people who could–it would really be fueled by raw emotion. Talking it all in is writing too, I think. When I regret not writing enough, I remind myself that all my attempts to feel when it hurt so much, all my attempts to make meaning, were also writing practice. I hope your daughter can join you in whatever brings you a moment of peace, joy, or contentment. Thanks for the photos. So precious.

  4. Big hugs – we’ve lost dogs and cats and it always wipes out for a little bit. Hang in there!

  5. Thank you for your kind words. Every day is getting a little easier. Wednesday, I exercised and did some knitting. Thursday, I went to the dentist which reminded of the scene in Princess Bride where Count Rugen takes one year of Wesley’s life. Later in the evening, I did manage to get out and meet with my Stitch N Bitch group and did some knitting –and stitched and bitched ;-) Today, I exercised again, then opened my computer and found out about the tragedy in Colorado, so that kind of puts things in perspective. Still haven’t done any fiction writing, nor have I updated my personal blog since last week.

    My daughter seems to be doing fairly well. Though she loved Romeo, he wasn’t her favorite cat. We had him the shortest amount of time. I think if our cat, Audrey had died–who we raised since she was a kitten, or Snickers who we’ve had since Ceana was about a year old, it might be a different story.

  6. Though she loved Romeo, he wasn’t her favorite cat. (Seems you are writing too. This reads like the first line of a children’s book. :) Take care.

  7. I’m hoping to get *some* fiction writing in tomorrow (Sat.) when our local writer’s group meets for our write-in. That’s usually just me and one other person. It’s unusual if more than three people show up.

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