On Life, Death, Change and Cats

I'm not much of a blogging person. But I got some words to throw out.

On Wednesday evening I arrived at the rural town I grew up in, where my parents still reside. I admit though, I didn't travel 230km to see them, exactly, I came over to this boring patch of the universe to visit my cat, Stimpy. He was a present for my seventh birthday in 1996, taken away from his siblings as a little bastard feral thing from my Grandpa's farm, and over the past thirteen years has grown into quite the gentleman. He has been a big constant in my life, someone I'd source inspiration from for my art, someone who'd always come to comfort me after tragedy, and someone who I think of as a little brother. Moving to Adelaide was hardest for me because I didn't want to take him from an environment he'd grown so accustomed to, so I left him in the dusty country with my parents. We both seemed to take this hard at first, and I was told he would always walk into my room, look around, and promptly walk out, every day, for months after I left. Apparently for long stretches of time he only came inside to get food if he hadn't already found a rabbit to eat, if at all. But he was never going to leave that place.

Earlier this year we learned that a sore under his eye we'd thought to have been a scar from fighting a neighbouring cat was instead skin cancer, and because of the location, we couldn't do anything about it. The way it looks now, think Left Eye Lopes' little do-up, but under the right eye, and on a cat that wasn't involved in some of the 90's best pop songs. Now, you probably know all this if you've seen me post in the Cat thread, but the thing is, I still had a sense of hope that he could last a while, maybe into the next year. I now know that as the pain spreads further and he grows thinner (he lost half a kilo in October alone, and he's always been rather skinny) he will have to be put down in early December. I still can't accept that. I guess it's a normal thing that a lot of pet owners have been through, but I just thought he'd always be around, y'know? Same old, same old. Pet death cliches. But I just never thought they'd apply to Stimpy. I guess cause I've seen it happen with family dogs, not with my own cat. And I still think about them too much, so how the hell will I cope knowing this little white cat isn't going to run up and greet me next time I pull-up in front of my old home? He once had long, thick white and ginger fur that made him the most majestic cat many visitors had ever seen. Now his fur is shorter, looser and dirtier. His once brilliant jade eyes have been polluted by disease, now the colour of dried leaves. And yet, his spirits seem so high, he's as friendly as ever. Is he even in pain? He must be, the cancer is growing quite rapidly, and it often bleeds. But when will I know that it's time to take him to the vet for the last time? And how will I wake up that morning? And the next?

You see, the death of a family cat is throwing my whole world upside down. I'm taking things either way too seriously or not at all. So forgive me if I've been or will be particularly uptight the next month or so - I mean, I can be a bit of a prick a lot of the time as is, but a lot of that's an act. Here's something close to the bone. He's an event that I consider to be the start of the next chapter in my life, the chapter where I finally break out of the confinement I've been in for the past few years, this cell I've been living in without work, without education, without money, and finally get out there and get some fucking things done. Because if I keep worrying about dead pets, I'm not going to get where I want to be. So suffice to say, this means I won't be here as often as normal. I'm not sure exactly where I'll be. I'll still be around here, I'm looking forward to seeing U2 live within the next few years, I'm looking forward to meeting more people from these boards and catching up with those I've already enjoyed company with. But there are more important things right now, and I'll need to address them over this year's transition.

Thank you, America. God bless you all.

[I may delete this blog in the future].