nccotus

I’m not having them much any more.

safer neurological pathways are restoring.

I used to lose thoughts and fall into a silly unpleasant humorous mode that could last for days, weeks, years over something done in a malfeasance way that I couldn’t fix.

I am here to fix one of them.

After my mother’s death (faked??), my father was trying to have me put down her cat, Sasha, and I was refusing. She was ill, but I just didn’t want to do it. It would have been a psychological evil for me to be the one to do it.

Sasha was found by the side of the road at one edge of the property, I can’t remember the year so I can’t validate her age when she passed. Another cat was rescued a week later and also survived.

my mother gave the second away and the new owner traced his life in a blog.

Finally, I had to take Sasha to the vet for a urinary tract infection. She also had diarrhea. I had brought her to my side of the house and Travis and Tanner, my two male tabbies, were enjoying her company. I was worried that they would catch whatever she had. And worried about how to keep up with her diarrhea. But I wanted to keep her.

She was such a delight.

But, something happened on the way to the vet. I had told my father where I was going. I pulled into a parking lot to get the exact location, and realized that that was not really a safe move—to pull into a random parking lot. Something happened as I was pulling back out that I couldn’t identify at the time.

Now, looking back, I would identify it as a seizure. I moved into confusion and silliness and lost control of the moment, knowing that something bad could happen.

So, I couldn’t think or feel anything. It was a partial complex seizure. I had learned in California to move through these—about tying my shoelaces as I portrayed in a recent post, and washing dishes and doing laundry no matter what.

I realize now that the Lord moved me through this to do something for Sasha that she needed done. My father didn’t know how and my sister didn’t have the parts either. I just realized a few minutes later that Sasha did not want to keep hanging out in the cottage with me and a Travis and Tanner and she couldn’t stay with my father either. She was dying.

My mother wasn’t there to help her so I was. I saw Sasha’s sadness and feeling of abandonment and felt terrible. But then I was able to hold her at the very end. As if she died by the side of the road but with someone to hold her. It was what she wanted. Also, all of us to hold her for those long, long years as a resident at Springstone Hollow in Judith’s dance.