Question of the Day - How Much Does It Take to Make a Person Happy?

Finally!

It’s the last day of work before National holydays. Five wonderful free days, and after that, I’m going on a vocation! A real, long, honest to God vocation!

For whole 18 days I won’t have to go to work!

I can't even express how very much I waited for this. Having lots and lots of work is good. It means you're good at what you do, and your work is needed. It also means you get really tired after some time. And I haven't had a vocation for longer than 5 days for almost 3 years. It was getting taxing. And now... finally...

... I’m free as a bird! (hear me jumping up and down from sheer joy of it all. I actually did some jumping up and down. Shhh. Don't tell anyone. I'm embarrassed about my childish behaviour.)

We’re planning to go on a road trip for the first 5 days, and after that I’m gonna catch up on my sleep, visit some beauty parlours, have some parties and fun with my friends, and generally have a damn good time. Longs walks on the beach and in the forest are also planned. I have a bunch of vocation books collected, so I’m all set.

Is it really, really cool or what?

The beauty of spring - as I see it

Pavasara prieki mežā un pļavā

Question of the Day - How Long Does It Take to Write a Novel?

Words just keep flowing out of me. It’s been so long since I’ve felt compelled to write things off my chest. It’s a strange feeling.

Good part – no one is obliged to read this blog thing. I can write whatever I want and pretend it’s been sent into the outer space or something. Somewhere. That’s what matters to me. Does it sound egocentric? Well who cares, really?

The cat I mentioned yesterday - Persian boy - really did find a home already. I’m relieved and very happy for the cat. Poor thing didn’t deserve such treatment.

What else? Nothing too important, I guess.

I finished reading Queen of Glass by S.J. Mass recently. I can heartily recommend it to everyone who likes fantasy, fairy-tales and the like. It’s an excellent, mind blowing, wonderful Cinderella remake of ominous length. Truly gorgeous, I tell you. I enjoyed every page of it, and there’re lots and lots of pages.

Actually, I’ve finished reading many books recently. I read as a mad-woman lately. No day can I go through without a book nearby. And when I’m too tired to read I watch movies. I suck in any new story thrown at me like an over-eager vacuum-cleaner. What do I plan to do with all this information, I haven’t the slightest idea. Thankfully, I still have the ability to recognize and spit out lacking ones. At least I hope so.

I’ve also taken to planning a detective story for my sister. I have a wonderful idea about contraband and two twelve year old boys discovering a cunning scheme for an illegal transit route. It’s all very exciting but at the rate I keep going… let’s just say it’s a good thing I made the main protagonists twelve. Since my sister isn’t even 10 yet, I’ve still got more than two years. I hope I’ll get to the actual writing some day this year. Planning is fun but it is by far not enough. Well, author of previously mentioned Queen of Glass spent 5 years on her novel. I hope I’ll manage somewhat faster. If not, I’ll have to upgrade the protagonists to teenagers, gift them with hormones and so on. Very complicated. And a good motivator to work faster.

Other news – spring is in the air! It’s warm and nice, and sunny, and bright, and almost green! I love this time of the year.

Question of the Day - Are Pets Really Toys?

They offered me to take in a cat yesterday. I don’t think I can, yet. It doesn’t feel right.

The poor soul needs a home but I still have the presence of Cat lurking in the corners of mine. I keep seeing her. Until she’s there, I’m not ready for a new companion. It’s way too soon.

This cat – it’s a year old Persian boy - was given up by his family. And his tale made me boil with anger.

Children, there’s three of them, wanted a pet. Parents got them a cat. I could just bet there was some serious whining and persuasion before parents agreed to buy such an expensive pedigree cat.

A year later, kids change their minds and suddenly don’t want to take care of the cat anymore. Too much trouble, you see. Toys are not supposed to be trouble. Persians require grooming, special care and whatnot.

And what do parents do? They give him up. Worse, the mother brought the cat to her work and asked people if someone wanted him. She doesn’t even intend to take him back home anymore.

These parents do not talk to the kids about responsibility, they don’t do any parenting job, and they don’t even consider taking care of the cat by themselves. They just get rid of a pest that previously much desired pet has turned into.

People, please! Whatever happened to the elemental morals? Pets cannot take care of themselves. We are the ones who domesticated them and, therefore, are responsible for them! Yes, I understand that everybody has to work for living but taking care of a cat is not so time-consuming! A half an hour a day would do. Even less on really busy days. I know. I had a cat just last week.

The habitual cruelty and inconsideration people so often show towards animals is unbelievable. Animals might not be able to talk but they do feel things. They understand things. And they hurt. They are not pieces of furniture you can throw out if you don’t like the colour scheme anymore. Yes, there really was a story like that behind a cat given away to the animal shelter in Riga. She hadn't matched the new colour scheme after re-decoration, and the proud owners threw her out. Such attitude disgusts me.

Thankfully, I’m absolutely sure this Persian will find a new home in no time. He’s a well-behaved pedigree cat with all the papers, and there are a lot of people who find it desirable. He’ll be snatched up in a minute. Or at least I really, really hope so. If not… we’ll see.

I’m one of those strange people who consider pets their friends. And somehow I have a feeling he or she will come when the time’s right. It’s what usually happens in my life. Things just happen when the time is right. That’s what Cat did, after all. She just showed up one day, and moved in with me.

I keep thinking about that little corner where I buried her. A nice, sunny spot on the fringe of a forest, clearly visible from my friend’s house. Among pine-trees and under hyacinths, violets and sun-flowers. Yes, I did plant flowers for her, I’m melodramatic like that. And previously mentioned friend (who owns the house and, along with two more friends, helped me bury Cat) made us throw three handfuls of sand in her little grave. It’s a tradition performed in Latvian funerals. So there. I’m not the only one sentimental.

Other news - I'm starting to smile again.

April 22, 2008

So here it is. My Cat went to the cat Heaven this Saturday. She was my companion for 12 blessed years.

Cat got ill 2 weeks ago; I took her to the vet. Verdict – she’s not curable but it’s possible to alleviate or even stabilize her condition. Renal insufficiency is like that.

So we did what we could. I dragged in all my family and friends for help. She had to have a drip feed every night, and somebody would always come to help me hold her still for the procedure. No cat likes to be still against their will for longer then two minutes. Wasn’t easy, but they never complained. Did I mention I love my family and friends dearly? They agreed to help me without a second’s hesitation.

So went the last week.

She started to eat on Wednesday, and I was so, so happy. It looked like she’s decided to live after all. She even didn’t put up much fight when it was time for her shots and medicine. I thought she might be feeling better.

My friends took us to visit the vet on Saturday. He said she’s making progress and told me to come back in a week with strict instructions about the treatment. Suffice to say, I was ecstatic.

And then, on our way home, she suddenly got restless and was having trouble breathing, and then went into seizures. We turned back while I was having frantic consultation with the vet. Well, it was too late. In ten minutes Cat was dead. Just like that. In my arms.

Apparently, her little heart was not strong enough for all the stress she went through. I don’t really understand all medical particulars.

I know my Cat died. I know I’m sad, and miserable, and devastated. And I miss her very, very much. I guess that’s all that matters. It was her time to go, and all I can do is get used to a life with no Cat in it.

Is it weird to feel such loss over a pet?

I hadn’t realized how much my daily life was adjusted to the presence of Cat. With my every step, I checked, and double-checked. I was constantly considering everything from a cat-safe aspect.

Could she possibly get stuck under the closet? Could she force herself through that tiny opening, and suffocate? Could she steal the chicken from the table, and over-eat, and vomit all over the place? Does she have enough water or food; is her kitten litter fresh enough?

Would she be alright if I’m away from home for whole three days? Should I request someone to come and check on her?

Has she had enough vitamins? Is it time to sow grass for her?

Could she possibly be under my feet when I get up from the bed?

Did I leave the window open or closed? What if it’s open, and a storm breaks out – she doesn’t like thunder. She’d be alone, and scared. And if it’s closed – does she have enough fresh air?

The doors always had to be left open, to all rooms. She hated not being able to go as she pleases, and she was very vocal about it.

She loved to tear up important papers in tiny pieces. I had to go to the bank more then once to exchange ripped up bills. It was always so much fun for the clerks when I started the explanations.

I had to be careful where I leave my keys. She loved to snatch them, and play with them. As a result, they’d be jammed in a highly unpredictable place, and I’d spend a good hour looking for them. And she’d look all smug, and watch my frenzy search, and I’d be late yet again.

I’d always have to warn guests to watch out. She took it as her duty to bite or scratch everybody at least once. Yes, Cat wasn’t your average meek lap-cat. She was a fighter with strong opinions, and she wasn’t afraid to voice them.

She had a game where she’d try to escape out of the apartment. She’d bolt at the most unexpected moment and disappear down the stairs. The rules were that I was supposed to go look for her, chase her, and bring her back. It was a hilarious sight in the winter. She’d run out, all victorious, and sink into the snow. No cat likes wet and cold, my Cat was no exception. She’d bolt back inside and wait for me at the door, an indignant look on her little face. She clearly blamed the snow on me.

Here we go again. Snot and waterworks all over the place. I have to go collect myself. I’ll continue tomorrow if I still have more words to pour out.