Mirages and possums

When we tuned in last, I was in hot pursuit of my cat Joey.

Well following the hound incident, I  have wracked up two other Joey-related, albeit odd experiences.

Two mornings ago I woke with a start at 6 a.m. I looked sleepily around my bedroom, blinking and confused. It was a bit earlier than I had gotten up of late. My first action – even before coffee and nature – was to stand, reach over and pull back the curtain covering the large picture window next to my bed to scan the expansive front yard for That Joey.

I never expected to see him, it was just part of my increasingly lukewarm vigilance to locate his whereabouts. However, this time was different. With bleary eyes, I immediately saw smack dab in the middle of the lawn, a large furry creature grooming itself. Joey is gray, so I tried to sort out whether it was a squirrel. No, it looked like Joey. I dashed to the front door but by the time I had opened it, the front yard was deserted.

Badass Steve McQueen in his “Papillon” days.

There is a niggling part of me that believes, with the spate of losses and recent fixation I had developed for this cat, that I am not as emotional balanced as I used to be. Henceforth, perhaps I did not see Joey, but wanted to see Joey. Geez. McQueen did it so much better in Papillon. And he had real problems, as his solitary confinement and illusions were imposed against his will. Mine had become increasingly voluntary. I do go stretches of time without seeing people, can spend days in a row alone since I work at home and live alone.

Mirage or not, it was the catapult (funny) that lobbed me over the fort wall into the incident with the possum. Some cat rescue groups say to only leave a Havahart”® trap out during the day, others only at night. Cats are nocturnal, but so are skunks, raccoons and possums.  So, following my early morning feline fantasy (or not) I enthusiastically put out the trap that day and left it out all night.

Lo and behold, the next morning, the trap was sprung. But much to my dismay, housed a toothy snarling possum. Quelle surprise.

Now, it was not catching a possum that dismayed me. Or even for the moment, not seeing Joey’s smarmy little face (yes, that’s right, I’m  pissed now). It was that I had to start trying to figure out who could help me get the trap open, after I had failed to release the little stinker from its metal cage.

I immediately thought of my neighbor Bob on the other side of the lake. He used to catch and release squirrels by the dozens, taking them for joy rides over to the golf course, setting them free. An exercise I thought as endless as trying to catch fish with a spoon.

I called a bunch of neighbors I did not know as well as Bob but to no avail and so ended up trying again with the cage. I’m glad I did. It finally opened. But denying myself that victory I immediately felt contrite for having initially caved so soon to seek help from others. All well meaning people for sure. But I got myself in this ridiculous situation. Again, my thoughts not anyone else’s.

But it’s a small neighborhood. I am sensitive about being labeled the kooky widow cat lady who can’t cope on her one. (My thoughts. You write your own blog and you can provide your thoughts.)

So, long story maybe a bit longer, I have gone to being worried about Joey to being a bit miffed. If the mirage was the flesh and bone cat, he did not seem concerned about me. In the flash I has seen him, he looked unconcerned about life and my plight. Bastard.

Plane talk

I was happy to finally be landing at my home airport yesterday after a short but exhausting business trip, this time to the West Coast for another one-day client event that meant tacking on two additional days just for travel.

I’ve got the science behind prepping for time away from home down pretty well –  contact the cat sitter, get the suitcase out of the attic the night before, water all plants.

The part that’s missing and that still gives me pangs, is being able to text my husband when I’ve arrived, the call from my hotel room to say how the event went, and most importantly, texting him from the plane once I’ve landed back at our airport.

Once we had taxied to the gate last night, the gentleman in the seat next to me whipped out his cell phone to call his wife or partner, assuring her he’d be home within the hour.

I’m lucky in that some of my friends and my sister-in-law track my travel and always check in with me during my trips. I super appreciate it, but feel James’ loss very keenly still. It sounds trite but is so true, that it’s the little things you miss the most once you’ve lost your spouse or partner. Relationships are woven together with the fabric of small acts and patterns of behavior that bind you together with a comfortable cadence that unknowingly make up your days.

“When fears are grounded, dreams take flight.”  Anon

I went to get another psychic reading recently, and this one had given me pause. James came through and some of the observations were too spot-on to brush off as a charlatan’s trickery. He knew my computer had died (it had three weeks prior), that my lawnmower had issues (I had just retrieved it from the shop).

“He’s looking out for you still,” the psychic assured me.

I’m trying to allow myself to hold onto that thought and not let my rational mind discount it. If it’s true, then I don’t need a cell phone to let the most important person in my life know when I’m at the gate. He knows before I do.