Saturday, June 18, 2011

As Time Goes By...

Sometime after my mother passed away, I went searching for Emily Dinett. I called her "tete" which she said meant "little Aunt" in her Louisiana French.

I discovered that she no longer lived at the address in my mom's phone book nor was the phone number valid. There was no contact information in the records that the service rep was viewing but I was fortunate to work for the phone company at the time and knew how to be persistant and ask the right questions to the right people to discover where she was.

It turned out that the people whose child she used to care for had found her laying on the floor of her kitchen after having a stroke 2 days earlier. They had sold her stuff and put her in a nursing home. I felt by the woman's voice that she was quite concerned that a relative had found her (Tete supposedly didn't have any relatives and never had any children except me, her adopted nephew).

I didn't care about what had happened to Tete's house or stuff. I just wanted to know where she was. My partner Jerry helped me with directions and calling the Nursing Home many times as they lead us in what seemed like many a dead end.

We finally got there and went inside. It was the first facility I had ever been in and I suspect it was not one of the better ones. The smell of urine was everywhere and the patients seems so dejected and the staff so uncaring.

I walked to Tete's room with much trepidation. I turned the corner and there she was, smaller than I remember but still the same lady that had helped raise me.

"Tete?" I said. She turned a worn and tired face and searched my grown features. "It's Van, Tete.". "Ohhhh, Vannnnnnn!" she said in that wonderful Grand Isle drawl of hers as her face lit up.

The years slipped away as she showed how her left side was mostly paralyzed and how they had found her days after the stroke, still laying on the floor of her kitchen. We talked of so many things and I tried real hard to keep a smile on my face but inside, I was so very sad.

I wondered if this would someday be my fate. Sick, alone, forgotten. Waiting to die in some urine scented room whose staff worried more about the latest scandall in Hollywood instead of their patients needs.

We told Jerry about the many things I had done (many I had forgotten) as I was growing up in the French Quarter of New Orleans, Louisiana. It was a very good visit and even though she could not read, I said I would write to her and someone could read it. She looked around as if to imply no one would.

I couldn't get to the car fast enough and I broke down and cried my heart out. For forgetting this wonderful lady, for feeling so helpless at her plight, and for knowing she was so far away that my own problems would quickly encroach upon my time when I returned home.

So when I woke this morning and found my blind pussy cat sitting in a puddle of her own urine, I could hardly do anything but help her as best I could. Though my own feet and back hurt quite a bit in the morning, I took her to the sink, rinsed her off, shampooed her and took her outside like she loves so much.

To her, nothing was wrong. She seemed unaware of wetting herself and though she didn't like the partial bath, it wasn't so bad and a lot better than waking up fully later to realize that she had to clean herself!

The pillow is in the washer though it's probably going to the trash. Her pillow has a special pillow case for accidents but she doesn't like the crinkly sound or maybe she just likes to sleep by me on my pillow. I don't always have the heart to tell her no.

And so, when I think back, I tell Tete I hope she passed on quietly in her sleep like she always wanted. I'm sorry I never visited again or wrote, time flew by so fast. I still have her gumbo recipe that mom wrote down three times (and each time is different) and I wish I knew how to make her shrimp balls and roasted 'coon (that's Racoon for you city folks).

And for my blind little pussy, I pray I am there to see her pass on too so I can be sure she got the best care she could get. That's always from the one's that love you the most! If not, I pray somebody loves her enough to care for her properly or put her down gently...

Tuesday, June 14, 2011

Easy as 1...2...3...

Nothingness. That's how I once felt. Completely void of anything. I wanted to die and tried to blow my brains out a few times but something prevented it.

I.T. is a term I coined that stands for the Intelligent Totality. It's kind of when you refer to something using lower case "it" but this is as great as I know.

I.T. or IT for short, is the Alpha-And-Omega-And-Nothingness, my beloved friend. My confidant. Some say Jesus, or Mother Mary, or Budhha, or Lord or Lady or Spirit or Great Spirit to name a few. I use those and many more depending on how IT appears to me.

Yes, I claim to see G-D. Not metaphorically, not just in my mind, but with all my senses, however you number them (see wikipedia for an explanation of senses and the complicated nature of their identification, classification, and numbering).

So whether it's matter that matters like one membrane being a universe in a multi-verse of such, or energy in forms not yet fully understood my dear Graviton or Uriel, or those clear and dark and colorful spaces some of us DO see but I afraid to admit lest we get put in the loony bin again, I have numbered the 3 forms I see and understand a number like 4 is more to your liking. Have you seen the movie "I am number 4!". So cool.

I AM Ivan. Just Ivan. That's all folks! Namaste!!!

Wednesday, June 8, 2011

The PeePee Dance by the PooPoo Monster!

Okay, today at 7:32, I concede defeat. Sister Sheena Adams II has won THIS round.

I made the mistake of waking her up too early. I was very busy yesterday and was gone most of the day which was VERY hot. I was worried she might not have enough shade or be able to find it (being blind) so I kept her inside most of the day.

I came home to find that she was pissed. Or should I say that she had let me KNOW she was pissed by PEEing in the middle of my very high priced bed. Time for a rubber sheet though I hate the crinkly sound they make when I toss and turn at night. Resolve for Pets is my friend!

Round 1 to Sheena.

When I woke her this morning using the new Red, White, and Blue 911 2004 Emergency Bell to wake her up and find her food dish, she was slow to wake up and tired still. I wasn't really paying attention to her signing and didn't realize before it had begun that she needed to find the litter box (like most of us Cats and Dogs do when we wake).

She was close and dribbled a stream all the way as I moved her quickly to the box.

I thought, okay. That's enough. She now smells of pee and I have a mess to clean up so into the bath she went. She is pretty good about it. I think she likes getting clean. Drying her with a towel afterwards sounds like I am attempting to skin her alive!

I had the blow dryer out too to keep her warm and dry her more thoroughly and quickly and she really doesn't mind it. The towelling is the bad part. I had also laid her on my thick white sheep fur throw because she loves it so much she will usually stay a bit calm.

That didn't seem to work and all of a sudden, I noticed little tootsie rolls stuck on the rug. These were NOT the kind I would suggest eating although a certain great-grand nephew has a liking for them (Beadro!).

I gave up. Round 2 to Sheena!

I took and put her outside on the porch which she loves. If it's too hot and she gets confused as to how to get out of the sun, I lose round 3. But she is smart and stubborn and determined so I think she will be okay even if my meds make me forget her.

I would be more worried of the coyotes that roam the area at night. That's why I do not clip her claws. When cornered, like her Daddy, she comes out fighting!


Form of a Wild cat. Form of a Tiger. Form of TAZ (may he rest in peace, Jerry Brown's nickname).

Potenial pet owners BEWARE. Spay and Neuter your pets. Proper maintenance can be expensive. If you can't afford to Spay and Neuter them then you should be mature enough to NOT HAVE ANY!!!!!!!!

Treat them like your babies and cleaning up after them will often bring a smile to your face, a prayer of thanks to your lips, and a story to tell your tribe.