My Dear Ireland...

I was gone last week for a few good reasons. I needed time to reflect. My blog was getting too big and I felt overwhelmed. I couldn't figure out how to live my life and continue with it. Then something really horrible happened and put everything in perspective.

Wednesday, January 23, 2008 I rescued my darling feral kitty, Ireland, from the park. It was raining, he was the only kitty who showed up, he was wet and cold and I knew it was our time. I didn't bring the carrier as I always do, so left him to eat and walked back to the car to get it. Only to discover he had followed me. I said "Honey, why don't you just get in right here and save us the trouble." He didn't. Together we walked back to his food in the rain. When he was through eating I simply picked him up and put him in the carrier (my feral kitties are all dear friends) and then the real fun began. He wasn't happy and tried to bang his way out. I told him to relax, everything would be okay. I called Rob and asked him to please prepare the family room for a new arrival. Before leaving the park I spoke into the wind and told his mom and sister I loved them and that I was sorry. I asked them to trust me. They love him so much and I knew they would miss him. They are the most precious kitty family I have ever known. They absolutely adore one another.

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We arrived home and I left him in the car while I organized the family room. I never do that, but for some reason I felt he would be better off alone than with me for a few minutes. When I had the family room perfect I went to collect him. Rather than bring him through the house, I decided to take the back entrance, so had to go through the gate to the back yard and then through the garage, then into the family room. When I went to open the gate, the carrier hit either the fence or the shrub and Ireland went insane and hit against the carrier at the same time the act of hitting something dislodged the knob. In an instant the carrier malfunctioned, opened and Ireland escaped. I threw down the carrier and ran after him into our neighbors yard, but lost him. In tears I rang Betty Ann's door and asked her to please help me find him. We couldn't.

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It's been one week to the day. I've plastered the neighborhood with flyers, posted photos on every stop sign, gone door to door and left info, but to no avail. I've received 4 calls and all have been helpful. He is here, just not with me. I am in so much agony, you have no idea. It's ugly. It's awful how you go over your mistakes again and again in hind-sight. If I'd just done one thing differently, none of this would have happened. But it did happen and unfortunately here I am typing this. I don't care about me, I care about him. I don't want him to be cold or wet or hungry or lonely. I have the biggest clump of guilt hovering all around me. And I don't know what to do.

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There are five stages of grief:

1. Denial (this isn't happening to me!)
2. Anger (why is this happening to me?)
3. Bargaining (I promise I'll be a better person if...)
4. Depression (I don't care anymore)
5. Acceptance (I'm ready for whatever comes)

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I've spent the past week dealing with #1 and today hit #2. I was so angry that Rob actually said "Wow, you okay?" No, I'm not okay. I just want him back. I don't want to get to #3, 4 and 5. I want to stay right here and get him back. To think of him alone, out in the big old world without his mom and sister breaks my heart. What have I done?

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I realized that blogging and all of you make a difference in my life. As much time as it takes, it matters, so I'm staying right here. Look, I'm sharing this with all of you. Why? Because you're all kind and wise and perhaps you have the answer. I feel as if I'm running out of time, so I need all the help you can give. If you have any advice, please share it.

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With love,

Suzanne