Please Stay Another Day (Part Deuce)
I think it’s rather strange how, after writing my last post, Chicago has been raining off and on. This weekend is pretty much going to be the same of scattered showers. I’m thinking that perhaps Mother Naure took my little quote at the end of that post a little too literally.
The following post was meant as a continuation of my last one; following up on further emotions I’ve been experiencing lately. All because of PS’ story. And all because of the unconditional love my cat, Rain, has given me throughout the years …
So without further ado, I give you Part Deuce.
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I think about the eventual loss of Rain, sometimes in conjuction with my inability to have kids of my own.
Oh, I know that I place a lot of importance in my pets because they are, in essence, the children I will never(?) have. Even for those families with *actual* children and pets can understand how much these animals become part of your life. They are a source of unconditional love and happiness.
There are moments that I swear that my pets understand me; know me intuitively. It’s as if they have a direct line to my emotions. When I’m happy, they’re out and about trying to play with me. When I’m angry, they know to stay clear from my path. (Except my puppy-girl, Kozzy. Sometimes she’s a little … slow, but we love her to bits!)
And then there are the sad moments; particularly the moments that I’ve been in tears. Those are the moments where my pets seem to come out of the woodworks and surround me. Not all at once; as a mob of 2 cats and a dog would be quite a scene. No, they seem to come around, one by one, as if to make sure I’m never quite … alone.
The past few years, my pets have shown exactly how much they love me. Especially after all the events that had happened to throw my life off kilter. You know … the life that I thought I might have? The one in which I dreamed of the family that I would have had by now. The one in which there are still days or moments or news of pregnancies that I still, to this day, mourn the loss over.
Yes, these pets … my Rain, Kozzy and Yami … are, next to Hubby, another reason why every day I try to put one foot in front of the other. And it’s because, just like Hubby, they’ve seen the worst in me and they still love me unconditionally.
Kozzy still puts her nose right up to my face when I lay paralyzed on the couch. Rain still jumps onto the bed on those days when I can’t seem to get out of bed and plops herself to the side of me, pressing her entire body up against me. Yami still jumps onto my lap and then settles in my arms whenever I sit on the couch staring off into space, burying her entire head up into the crook of my elbow. And they do that independently of any specific events and on their very own accord … all to, in my opinion, make certain that I’m alright. And that I’m not alone.
I know that my pets shower me with love and affection because they know that Hubby & I are there for them unconditionally. Oh, believe me … they piss us both off sometimes to the point where I literally wish I could send the dog to the imaginary dog house, or the cats into a corner where they’d know not to come out until it was safe. But I also think that with the love and affection we provide them, they just want to reciprocate the feelings in the best way that they can.
PS’s story (in the previous post) and the fact that Hubby & I are caring for a pet that is on the downward slope of her life, had stirred up some emotions over the past couple of weeks. And it’s those thoughts of exactly who is going to care for us when we’re older. And who will be providing us with assistance to get around.
I see it with my parents, as I’m now about 5 hours by car from them. I worry about how they are able to get to and from Doctor’s appointments and if they’re actually following up on their health. I worry about my Mom taking a tumble and injuring herself. I worry about my Dad with his heart and his weight and his kidneys. I worry that I’m not going to be able to be there at the moment they need me the most. *
Oh, I know realistically that it’s not always guaranteed that having kids will automatically mean that Hubby and I have someone that will take care of us in our older age as no one can predict the future. If Hubby & I did have kids, who’s to say that (God forbid) our child doesn’t pass away before us? Or that our imaginary child decides that he/she wants nothing to do with us? Or that we’d have a child that requires us to physically care for him/her 24/7?
I know it’s not worth it to place all my eggs in one basket, and to worry about things that I have no control over. But I do. Worry, that is. Not only because, quite frankly … at my age their are no real good quality eggs to place in any basket. But also because one of my biggest fears is that I’ll have outlived** everyone in my life, Hubby included … and be all alone when I die. That there will be no one — well at least no one who loved me unconditionally — by my side.
So it’s with this thought that I know (irregardless of whether we eventually have kids … I can still dream, after all) that I will always have some sort of pet in my life***. One who I will love unconditionally and who will love me unconditionally in return.
I guess this means that Hubby & I will need to find a “Retirement Home” that will be willing to let us keep our pets!
* It’s one of the biggest downsides of moving out of state, but my parents know that this was a move that I needed to do both physically and emotionally. And for that, I am grateful.
** Fat chance of this happening, as I can barely take care of my own health …
*** Except I might just take a little break from acquiring any other animals until I can get past the eventual hole that will be left in my heart when Rain finally goes away.
Rain, Don't Go Away (Part Un)
There’s this story about a dog and a cat that has resonated within me since hearing it for the first time. It’s a story told to us by an employee (possibly owner?) of the neighborhood pet store we discovered this past summer.
Her story followed after ours; the one in which we found out that our 19 year old cat, Rain, was deaf. Yes, that’s right. Our senior citizen cat is deaf. But more on that pet story after this one.
The pet shop employee’s (I’ll call her PS for short) story began with her own experiences with a deaf pet. She had told us about her cat and dog who always displayed such a unique relationship their entire lives. Ever since they were both kitten and puppy, they had played together and snuggled together; stuck by each others’ sides.
PS had known, once they were both much older, that her dog had become deaf. And she knew this because he would never respond to her calls out to his name. And he would only obey her with non-verbal signs, rather than PS’s spoken commands. But despite this, he would always know whenever it was feeding time; always was right there the minute his bowl was set down for dinner.
There was a reason, PS speculated, that this dog knew it was dinner time. And this wasn’t because of his sense of smell. Rather it was because whenever the can opener would go off, PS noticed that her cat would suddenly start meowing loudly and (if she wasn’t already snuggling next to him) would rush over to where her dog was at, as if to wake him up. PS had witnessed, at various times, her cat nudge her best friend to get his attention … and then would watch as the two of them would enter the kitchen side-by-side, almost as if they were attached at the hip.
It wasn’t until weeks after her finally dog passed away that PS realized something was also wrong with her cat. She had thought, at first, that her cat stopped eating because she was so emotionally distraught about the loss of her best friend. But whenever PS put cat treats directly in front of her, she would gobble them up and immediately ask for more, as if she was starved. If picked up and placed directly in front of her food, this cat would also gobble up her food as if there was no tomorrow. But the thing is, PS ever picked up her up and set her down elsewhere in the house (whether it be the kitchen or any other room), this cat would immediately start meowing and wandering around in circles.
And that’s when PS realized that her cat was actually blind. It was also when she realized that all the years of her cat nudging her dog during dinner time was not only so that her deaf dog would know when supper was … it was also her dog’s way of leading her blind cat into the kitchen.
It took weeks of training, PS told us, but eventually the cat was retrained on how to get to and from her food bowl by memory whenever dinner time rolled around. Sadly though, this poor cat died within a year of her best friend.
I remember this story every time I snuggle with my cat, Rain. And I know that it’s only because I will be completely devastated when Rain finally passes away.
I don’t purposely mean to become so melancholy while remembering PS’s story. In reality, my Rain will be 20 years old next year, and despite her being deaf … she’s had quite an amazing life. One that includes finding her at approximately 6-wks old underneath Dr. Bro’s car in the midst of a late spring thunderstorm. There’s been moments of catching her at 1-yr old snuggling next to our family beagle, Muffin … who was always so gentle and kind enough to let her smack her around a bit. I remember the periods of adjustments she’s had to make when getting used to other “roommates” … whether it was Hubby moving in with us, or the variety of other pets we’ve collected since being married. And I remember one particularly difficult period of time, which included surgery to repair a broken leg. (All of which occured simutaneously during my one IVF cycle, btw …)
Sadly, we discovered Rain’s loss of hearing earlier this year. And it’s only because I had made the comment to Hubby one day that poor Rain developed the habit of yeowling* late at night whenever we had already gone to bed. I would complain about how loud it was and how I would have rather dealt with her late-night sudden bursts of energy** instead.
When Hubby mentioned this to a co-worker of his, she mentioned that her cat did the same thing before she found out from her vet that her cat was deaf. The vet had told her that cats do this when they start losing their hearing because cats apparently don’t like it when things are completely silent. So they start to meow loudly, hoping that they could hear something. Anything.
At first I refused to believe that her loud yeowling meant that Rain was going deaf. So I began to test her. Call her name while she was busy eating. Snap my fingers at her while she was asleep. Clap my hands loudly while she walked the opposite direction. All to try to get her attention. And all in vain. Because she had, indeed, lost her hearing.
While she no longer was afraid of big ole Kozzy bounding up to her (she couldn’t HEAR how loudly our dog would come prancing towards her), she began to startle a little more easily. And while she no longer does her late night excercising by running all around the apartment, she has begun to sleep more and more frequently.
And I know it’s all about Rain getting older. And that this is the natural “circle of life.” But it doesn’t stop me from feeling sad about what’s eventually going to come. That perhaps, I will be like PS’s cat in the story above … so reliant on all the comfort and happiness that Rain has given me all these years, that I’d feel lost without her.
Rain, Rain … Don’t go away
Stay with me another day
* Yeowling = Howling and Meowing simutaneously
** I swear, there are nights where I thought that the cats had more than a “nip” of that Catnip …
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Read Part Deuce here …
Walt in the World?!
My cousin, who otherwise loves the Disney Channel, recently made a comment about how Disney hates Asians. She commented on how many of the Asian actresses or cartoon characters on this network tend to be portrayed as either b*tchy or ditzy. Well, other than Mulan, that is.
And even though my cousin might disagree, I do think Lilo (from “Lilo & Stitch”) can technically be considered an Asian. Because … and follow along with me here … The Philippine Islands are located in the Pacific ocean. Therefore, Filipinos are considered Pacific Islanders and are lumped into the “Asian/Pacific Islander” category (as “dictated” by the US Census Bureau). And seeing as if the Hawaiian Islands are in the Pacific …
Yeah, so that’s my logic in explaining Lilo’s Asian-ness …
But my cousin’s comment reminded me of something that was pointed out to me by one of Hubby’s cousins last summer on our trip to Disneyworld. While at Mickey’s Toontown Fair, we stumbled upon one of the biggest mass-marketing stores inside the Magic Kingdom. Inside this store were rows and rows of toys from various movies. One entire section was dedicated to the Disney Princesses.
What Hubby’s cousin pointed out to us was this:
Rather inconspicuous, don’t you think? I mean really … Snow White, Belle, Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty in one package. Princess Jasmine, Ariel, Mulan and Pocahontes in a separate package.
The “Classic Princesses” (although, I question if Belle, created in 1991, is considered a “classic”) in one set, at eye level on the shelves. And the rather “unique” Princesses (an Arabian Princess, a Redheaded Mermaid, a “China Doll” and an American Indian Princess) in another set, located at waist level on the shelf below.
To me, it’s one of those things that make you go “Hmmmm ….”
Anyhoo, going back to my cousin’s initial comment … the reason I’m writing about this topic is because I’ve often felt the same thing about the way that American mass media portrays Asians. And specifically Asian-American females. It seems as if we’re perceived as being one or the other.
- Yeah … Lilo is a “Pacific Islander”
Bitchy or subservient.
Intelligent or ditzy.
Foreign-born or Adopted.
As an American-born and bred Filipina (and even for those that may have been born “abroad” but spent there formative years growing up in the US), this is a rather annoying (and not to mention incorrect) observation that has not often been voiced aloud.
I can’t tell you how many people have asked when my Hubby (who is also Filipino) and I moved to the US. And did we marry each other before moving here? Or did we marry after one of us became a US citizen? (The answer is NO for both questions, btw … we met in high school here and subsequently married here six years after we started dating.)
And while I’m on the same subject, I can’t tell you how many of my Asian girlfriends who married “non-Asians” have been told by others that they thought they were “mail order brides.” Just because they married outside of their culture.
Or how about when I was working at the beside as a Registered Nurse in a hospital setting? I found myself taking care of many American Vets who served in either WWII or the Korean/Vietnam wars. And many times, I was told that they could “never understand” me because my Chinese / Vietnamese / Korean / Japanese accent was “too strong.” Even though I speak perfectly clear English with my hometown Midwestern accent.
I could go on and on. Like my first job at a local fast food establishment; where my boss thought that Asians were “too smart for their own good” and should not be allowed to work the cash registers. Or even this incident, mentioned in one of my much earlier blog post. But then it would seem as if I’m merely “complaining.”
The truth is, I hope that others would see that not all Asian women fit into any one stereotype. That we are all unique, just like every other woman out there. That like every Disney Princess out there, we want to be recognized for the unique strengths we can offer to this world … regardless of how we physically see our “outer” reflections in the mirror.
And so, to bring it all back to Disney … here’s a song from one of my favorite movies of all time; one that sometimes hits closer to home than I’d like it to.
Block-Head
July had been a pretty busy month; and now, here we are in August and I feel as if I haven’t accomplished much lately. And when I mean “accomplish,” I mean sitting down and feeling satisfied that I’ve produced something that would be worth writing about … let alone have others read.
I’ve started many a posts over the past couple of weeks; all in an attempt to at least write. Except they never made it past the first few paragraphs because … well, I’ve been just plain exhausted.
Oh, who the h*ll am I kidding?! I’ve got major writer’s block and I’m not sure how to solve it other than rambling endlessly of seemingly trivial things.
Like how for Hubby’s birthday on the 19th, we got new iPhones. (So. Frickin. Cool!!)
Or how work had sucked royally from the end of June until about midway through July (when my manager took a two week vacation).
Or even how excited I was to meet Alexa and Mel. And Aunt Becky and Io. (BlogHer Chicago, bay-beh!)
Or how much frickin’ fun Hubby and I had when his Aunt and Uncle along with three of his younger cousins (which included future “Lego Engineer“) came to visit. (Wii Rockband + Lake Michigan Beach = Tons o’ Fun)
Nope. Got nothin’ in this brain of mine that I’ve felt have been in depth or insightful. Not that I haven’t had those thoughts … I just can’t seem to get them down on paper — er, on my laptop.
At the very least, I wanted to share some pictures from my meet-up with some awesome bloggie friends from Blogher Chicago. (Un)fortunately, I didn’t get a chance to actually attend the conference. But seeing that it was literally being held across the Chicago River (just one short jaunt across the Columbus Drive bridge) from where I work, I had to at least try to meet up with these women who have provided me with such incredible emotional support over the past three years.
Unfortunately, as Hubby’s been slammed with work lately, he was not able to Photoshop us into Super-Hot Uber babes. (Sorry, chicas … but we’re all beautiful anyway!)
Anyhoo … I just wanted to, at the very least, refresh my blog for now. Well, at least until inspiration strikes, anyway.
Oh, and to wish the wonderful Io a most excellent birthday. Here’s hoping you get to spend more time with A. instead of Robert Osbourne.
But seriously peeps … anyone got any good cures for Writer’s Block?