September 1 · 0 comments

There has been a lot of stuff going on.  I feel like each week just passes in the blink of an eye and I’m constantly looking forward to weekends where I can just chill.  However, everyone plans things on the weekend since people are home and so we have events to attend, relaxing doesn’t really happen, then the weekend is over, and we’re back to a busy work week.

However, I do feel like a break might happen this weekend since Labor Day is Monday and Dakota is off work.  Again I say might, I haven’t seen my folks in a while so we may visit them for a few hours.

Oh, speaking of my folks, my step-dad called Friday to see how I was doing.  Interesting that my mom can’t seem to email me when she sits in front of the computer all day, but my step-dad manages to call me every so often.  Anyway, so we were talking and catching up on everything when he mentioned some bad news.  It’s not a huge deal for anyone really, but it was for me which meant Dakota got called at work with me sobbing my eyeballs out on the other end.  Before I go further with the bad news, please remember that I am pregnant, I heart cats, and I really do miss my family even though we don’t talk to each other.  With all the preliminaries out the way, I give you the bad news.

My parents had this cat we named Tigger.  He was so named because of his stripes, not necessarily because he is anything like the Winnie the Pooh character.  He was a black and gray tabby cat that decided we were worth sticking with when we fed him McDonald french fries one day.  Yes, Tigger was an odd cat who should have been named Garfield due to his love of lasagna.  I did say he was odd right?  Anyway.  Tigger would guard the house while we were gone and then sleep on the vehicle that came home.  He would sleep on the top by the engine during the winter or under the tires of the truck during the summer.  My step-dad normally starts the truck and honks the horn to get Tigger to move out from under the tires.  Well, apparently, Mom decided that he didn’t need to honk the horn to get Tigger to move and asked him to stop.  Tragically, later that weekend, my step-dad didn’t do it and he rolled over Tigger’s backside.  They tried calling two different vet places to get him taken care of, but they weren’t available and to keep Tigger from being miserable, my step-dad had to shoot him.  A bit of harsh ending, I do agree.  I was torn up when he told me what happened.  I really liked that cat.  So yes, I called Dakota at work crying.  I’m sure my husband was thinking Crazy pregnant lady, you’re crying over a cat.  The more I think about it though, I think I was crying over more than just the cat.  I feel like I was crying over the loss of a connection I had with the home I spent 10 years making memories in.  Since my family and I don’t talk to each other for long periods of time, there have been changes which were made that I wasn’t aware was going to occur and it leaves me feeling a bit more disconnected from them.  Like eventually I’ll be visiting familiar strangers.  I know the people, but I don’t know the home.  I’ll only have that strand called DNA to keep me tied to them and not the depth of memories to keep the relationship alive.

But I digress, this post is supposed to be about the cat…

To the memory of Tigger, the cat that had me crying to Dakota.  I will miss you and all the memories you took with you.

May you enjoy the lasagna elsewhere


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