More good things about pets: The needs that keep us going
By Gina Spadafori
March 1, 2009
The worst of the fog of grief started to lift last night, or I thought it did. This morning I realized the truth: The fog is still here, but the pets need me.
Being needed is a wonderful thing.
Sticking just to the pet problems I haven’t noticed in the last three days:
– The usual. The litter boxes need scooping, and the bird-cage liner changing. Frankly, the boxes and the cage need scrubbing and disinfecting, but I’m not up to it today. This morning’s scooping and changing will have to do for a little longer.
–The unusual. Thanks, I’m guessing, to McKenzie’s continued and most determined retrieving of loose chickens, one of the ladies is now hurt pretty bad. I didn’t notice an injury when McKenzie handed Marble to me on the morning Dad died, but she must have put a tooth into the struggling hen. I gave Marble a quick look-over at the time, didn’t notice anything except henly indignation and put her back in with the flock. Since then, the other chickens have turned Marble’s wound into a bloody and possibly life-threatening mess I didn’t notice until this morning. Marble is now cleaned up, in isolation and on antibiotics. I don’t like this about chickens, the determination to kill the weak of the flock. And I feel awful that I didn’t notice the problem earlier.
– The disgusting. I neglected to pick up and clean a dish with a little cat food left in it a few days ago. This morning when I fed the cats (in clean dishes, of course) on the table in the garage (so the dogs won’t pester them), I noticed the contents of the forgotten dish wriggling. Maggots. They have been bleached into oblivion and beyond, and after more bleachy soaking, the dish will get scrubbed, then run through the “sanitize” cycle on the dishwasher. Twice. Or maybe more. Gah, I hate maggots.
Of course, I feel the worst about the hurt chicken, really bad. She’s eating, though, so I am hopeful that she’ll be fine in time. If I noticed earlier … ah well, we do the best we can.
As for the rest, well, a couple days with a dirty litter box never killed any cat. My own bathroom is not something I’d be showing off with pride right now, anyway. As for the maggots in the garage …. easily dealt with, however disgusting.
With the pressing pet needs met, I’m catching up on the rest of my life. Sheets are in the washer, and I’m starting to put together our weekly pet-care feature for the syndicate.
I will always miss my dad, but life goes on; we all know this.
And our pets know it most of all.
G:
I recall that you ‘invited’ me over to your house for the experience of clearing/cleaning your garage (both figuratively and professionally) after you learned of my interest in professional organizing. I’m not sure if the disclosure of hatched fly eggs is compelling or repelling?
In times of grief, pets keep us moving. I’m sorry about your chicken; I think that’s a good message to all of us about keeping a watchful eye. I’ve been there — thinking that the swelling on my dog’s belly was some sort of allergic response — in absence of vomiting, bad potty, lethargy or fever — only to ultimately learn of her diagnosis of Lymphoma, for Dog’s sake! Pets make us think outside of ourselves. Nature should do that also and I think that people are coming around to that. Make it a good Sunday; despite the dreary weather. Just think, Marty is in South America right now!
Comment by Pamela Demarest — March 1, 2009 @ 12:02 pm
I like “hatched fly eggs” better than “maggots.” :)
Personally, I would run screaming from the very idea of cleaning/organizing my garage if I were you.
Comment by Gina Spadafori — March 1, 2009 @ 12:18 pm
Hang in there, Gina. We all do the best we can while carrying the heavy burdens that life gives us, and I think you’re doing pretty darn good right now. Your animals are loved and well cared for, and they love you back. And hey, admit it, those maggots took your mind off your other troubles for at least a few seconds, didn’t they? Maybe they were just trying to help!
Comment by mountainkimmie — March 1, 2009 @ 1:10 pm
I used to farm sit for a sheep breeder who owned an old farm whose age spanned the late 18th and early 19th centuries. The sink in the kitchen was slate and original. You put the peelings et alia in a container, and had to remember to empty it frequently, or bypass it alltogether, because the flies would get in it and the next thing you knew…..ewwwwww.
What was worse was if a sheep got an injury somehow, and you didn’t catch it before fly strike. Maggots are now not far behind cat puke and stealth poop. A gross but intrinsic part of life!
Poor Marble. I do hope the antibiotics and isolation do the trick and she fully recovers. And as was pointed out aptly in the previous post, all these bits of life’s vagaries did distract you temporarily from your present grief pretty well, didn’t they?
Life exists after the death of a beloved parent. It’s still life, just different. It takes time to adjust to and learn to appreciate the difference. You will.
Comment by Anne T — March 1, 2009 @ 5:12 pm
Gina- We all do the best we can. Hopefully Marple will be fine and the maggots at least distracted you for a few minutes ! A few unscooped litter boxes and uncleaned bathrooms won’t hurt anyone for a couple of days. Just take care of yourself and the animals and give yourself a little time to feel in sync with the routine again.
Comment by Leslie K — March 1, 2009 @ 7:12 pm
Gina, I know my father, long gone, does look out for me when life is difficult.
This morning, when I saw the blue sky awash with red brush strokes, I felt that the spirit of my cat Batman was no longer present here on earth.
Tonight, I realized that March 1 was the date of my father’s birthday.
I choose to believe that my father helped
Batman’s transition to wherever his spirit needed to be.
May your fog lift some day—but I know it will.
The chicken sounds like it will recover. You did the best you could under the circumstances.
I hope you go easy on yourself as to feeling guilt. Nobody is perfect, it has been said.
Ah, if only I would take my own advise and stop feeling guilty about my own mistakes in dealing with my pets. Oh, well!
Comment by Colorado Transplant — March 1, 2009 @ 7:26 pm
Give yourself time…and just try to keep up with the very essentials for now.
Life has a way of drawing us back into it, after a loss, doesn’t it?
Hope little Marble is fine…sounds like a good sign that she’s eating.
Comment by Marcy — March 1, 2009 @ 8:45 pm
The fog will lift, but on a different world. You will adjust and persevere. I lost my dad on Palm Sunday 2005. My mom on Palm Sunday 2007. My sister last July. My cats George in February 2007 and Jack on Saturday. They all live in my heart. May your dad live in yours forever.
Comment by Mark — March 2, 2009 @ 12:12 pm
I feel like mornings are always the hardest. When I sat with my grandpa last spring I would spend hours with him and stay up through most of the night and I would feel at peace with everything that was happening.
And then I’d sleep for a little while and morning would come and after checking on him for a bit I’d have to fake going to the bathroom to pull it together.
There’s probably something scientific to it, like we need to temporarily forget some things to get rest or something… I don’t know. Mornings are so hard.
Comment by Amy — March 3, 2009 @ 10:15 am
I have to agree: Mornings suck right now.
Comment by Gina Spadafori — March 3, 2009 @ 10:42 am
Dear Gina,
I tried to find an email on here for you but could not find one so am replying here and hope you see it.
I haven’t been reading lately and just realized your dad had passed away, and wanted to express my condolences. I read his obituary — he sounds like he was a very cool guy, and a baseball player! That really elevates his status for me, as I am a real sucker for the game. :o)
My heart goes out to you and your family on the loss of this dear man. I understand your grief, having lost a lot of people in the past dozen years, including my own father and my beloved daughter — my one and only child.
The grief comes in waves and eventually subsides to a dull roar, but early on it can be so hard to hold your head up and get through the days. I wish you peace and calm and hope you will soon be left with only good memories of your father.
Please take care of yourself and hang in there.
Warm thoughts,
Jewel in Tucson
Comment by stellaluna — March 7, 2009 @ 4:25 pm
Thanks, Jewel. The services were today. Nice mix of his friends, from the “old neighborhood” to quite recent. Lots of Mom’s friends and my siblings’ and my friends, too. Nice, all of it.
Comment by Gina Spadafori — March 7, 2009 @ 6:29 pm