ATF: The Scratch

My throat is filleted from yesterday's prolonged exposure to stench du house.

I saw Mini-Jane's shadow again last night, right outside the front door. Maybe I am getting used to it, it didn't freak me out. I wonder if we'll see it or hear her when the house is rebuilt.
I was really pretty good, surprisingly good, yesterday. The only bad moment was when I loved, er, moved, the boxes from under my desk. I was convinced Mini-Jane's body would be there, and I was dreading discovering it, and wanting to find, to know for sure about her final repose. I was pulling and flinging boxes, flashlight swinging, and realized I was hyperventilating. The inside of my mask was full of water from my breath, and I was grinding my teeth.
I stepped outside for a break, hissing, and kept telling myself I was okay. I went back in as soon as I could see straight again, and finished filling my boxes.
Girl was charged with bringing out our garden hose. She dragged it down the front walk, leaving puddles. (There was actually still enough water in it after two months to leave puddles.) While we were waiting for King, she swung the flashlight (it was well past O' Dark-Thirty by then) across the walk. The shapes of the puddles, seen sideways, very much suggested the shadows of two dogs, two cats, and two rats walking down the sidewalk, and another cat lying on it. I had a dream within a week after the fire of the pets leading me, or me following them, all of us walking single file, the puddles reminded me of it.
I haven't had any nightmares about the fire. The closest was a dream that King accidently let Yuki, Mama and MiMii out and we were trying to get MiMii back from animal control. I have had plenty of waking nightmares, though, of kids burned, of being the only survivor, of fires started when I wasn't home and kids who can't get out fast enough. Over and over again, I'm walking barefoot across the blacktop shaking from fire truck engines, in almost no clothes, in the morning dark, towards two firemen giving a stripy gray cat heart massage and trying to get a tiny oxygen mask over a mouth with the tongue glued to the roof.
That's the one that comes when I start to think about the fire, and it's the one that comes when I don't. I wonder if there's a set number of times I'll play it out, like counting pennies, and if there's a bottom to that jar of memories.

Back to NaNo for me. I could be using this time I'm marking in Starbucks before an 11:00 appointment making you something fun to read, huh?

ATF: Mini-Jane 2.2003-9.2005

From left to right: Frap (d. 9.2006), Mini-Jane (d. 9.2006), Boots, Jane.

Mini-Jane was called Mini-Jane because until she was fixed, she was a tiny stick figure of a cat. She was, after Sprocket, the loveiest cat of the bunch, a true lap cat, the cat that had to be near to intercept the attention, the one who loved the tummy rubs. It was probably Mini who was startled by King the morning of the fire and launched off my hip, one of her sleeping places, leaving divots in my thigh. She was also a fraidy cat, the first to run and hide if there was shouting at bad cats.

I went to an 11 AM appointment with Girl's counselor and decided to go to the house after to see if anything was happening yet. I knew when I pulled up Mini'd finally been found; I could smell it from the street, and we have a long front yard. I talked with King while I watched the Waste Management guy tarping our Dumpster, not knowing Mini was already in it. The crew found her in a soffit (that's the part that most people call the eaves, it's the overhanging part of the roof), led there when they cut open the roof to start taking it off.

There is nothing more infectious than the hope of a 13-year-old girl. Until now, there was always that chance that Mini would stroll up with that "Just kidding!" look on her face, sheepish at her promiscuous affections, or living with someone else after being so spooked she was lost.
At least we know now, it's better than wondering. I do know from having a dog stolen and not getting her back that the not knowing is pure torment that takes years to fade.

And now to tell Girl, and perhaps make it better with coffee.

Comments are disabled, because I don't want anyone to feel like they've got to come up with something to say, I undertand you're out there, sending the good vibes. Spend that time doing something nice for yourself or your critters or loved ones.

And send a pooch or kitty some food:

http://www.theanimalrescuesite.com/cgi-bin/WebObjects/CTDSites.woa