I ain't feeling merry yet...(long)

"Singh" wrote in message
...
I'm exhausted, simply put. Mandatory overtime at work for the holidays,
spending the rest of the time doing for Joycie and visiting our buddy
who, we just learned, is in ICU with a bitching case of pneumonia so bad
they had to put him on a respirator (purrs for James, please! He has a
collapsed lung and is in rotten shape.) and I am worn thin. This is why
you haven't seen me here in a few days. I love you all, but I'd been
needing some beauty rest because I am a freaking mess right now.

I don't like this season all too much. Christmas was the most horrid
time of the year as I was growing up, because there was more abuse. I
sometimes had to "earn the right" to get presents by getting beaten, or
touched. I had my first nervous breakdown (which caused an amnesia that
lasted almost 20 years) less than a week before Christmas, when I had
just turned 14. To this day I have trouble remembering anything prior to
1978.

I'm sorry. I hate being a whiner, being weak. In addition to my
psychiatrist, I began counseling at the Jewish Center here in Buffalo,
hoping they had experience with Holocaust-related issues. Survivors,
yes. Remarkably, there are no studies on descendants of survivors, and
were they surprised to learn I'm a Sikh! I suppose you just don't see a
pale, redheaded Sikh every day. Learning that my father actually got
into the camps for helping smuggle Jews out of Poland is making it even
more confusing for those poor social workers.

Last year on December 8, the following things happened in a space of
three hours:
1. I lost my day job.
2. I had to start the evening job I took for the season.
3. I got my period.
4. We had to put our Fritzie to sleep.

He was 19, and the day before had been fine. Then the morning of the
8th, he just crashed and burned. The vet warned us. Liver failure.
Still, he managed to do everything he loved one last time. He went
outside and sat under his favorite rosebush a while. He munched a bit of
catnip, and played with his little tassel on a sting thing, albeit
weakly. He went to every room and meowed loudly, as if he wanted to
leave the resonance behind. And then we took him.

I am indebted to the Georgetown Animal Clinic, and will never refer to
any of their vets as the "TED." They gave Fritzie a bit of painkiller
and allowed us to perform our prayers and blessings for the dying as is
done in Sikh tradition. I held him like a baby as Louie read the Ardaas,
the final prayer, which asks that, in all things, that God/dess be
remembered and that those who nobly lived be nobly received.

How noble was our Fritzie? When there was a suffering creature at the
vet's office, he'd go and make affectionate gestures that always seemed
to calm them down. The poor creatures who were about to cross over
always seemed less tense and less in pain after Fritzie rubbed up on
them. And when it was his time and he heard the heartbreaking sound of a
dog in pain who was about to be euthanized, he tried to jump at the door
to go to him. This is why I'll jump down someone's throat, who says a
cat is cold or animals are just dumb beasts. As Lewis Carroll once
wrote, if God loves sinful man, how much more must he love the animals,
who cannot sin!

When we were leaving, everyone in the office stood up. Ever see "To Kill
a Mockingbird," when Atticus loses the Robinson case and, despite this,
the defendant's friends and neighbors stand to salute his attorney?
That's what it was like. They all loved Fritzie. He was their research
boy for feline diabetes, and he was also their poster boy for diabetes
screening and their example of how a cat can have great quality of life
with consistent and watchful care. But they also thought he was a sweet
and noble fellow, with a great wisdom and dignity. He was saluted by the
staff, and the clients who knew him, as if a great leader had left this
world. Perhaps it was so; he was spiritual, and was attracted to
prayers, holy music, and meditation. I think there must be an aura of
sorts around a person in prayer, and a cat can sense it.

That night I went on a shopping freak before starting the temp job at
the mall, and had to call Louie to take away my debit card. I swear on
my mother's dentures that I don't remember buying that makeup. I took
four valium before starting at Bath & Body Works. I don't remember much
about my first night there either.

When we received the ashes we had our last ceremony. Sikhs release the
ashes of their cremated loved ones into running water. Water represents
cleansing for our souls and the power of God/dess (our Gurus taught that
the Supreme is One, yet both Mother and Father) to refresh us in our
grief. It is not seen as a throwing away, but giving the remains back to
our Mother Earth in recognition of the teaching that our divine creator
restores as well as destroys. Our prayer for the dying says that nature
performs the true ritual worship, and while the soul is united with
God/dess as a bride with her mate, the earthly part of the being joins
with nature in praise.

The vets sent us magnificent roses. Perhaps they knew that Fritzie's
favorite place was beneath a large rosebush in our back yard. We
carefull saved the petals and placed them in the carved rosewood box
they'd given us for his ashes. After a year, they still smell of roses.
We also received a surprise; before preparing Fritzie for his crossing,
the doctor made an imprint of his paw, had it formed into a heart-shaped
ornament with his name, and sent it to us. We keep in in the box with
the rose petals, and it has taken in the sweet scent. He had huge paws.
But then, he had a huge spirit.

So you'll excuse me, I hope, if I'm a little bah-humbug right now. I
love my four babies dearly, but that day was just harrowing. I've been
having nightmares of late, of "losing" one of my cats: them running off,
or me literally misplacing them. Like you can misplace a cat! Last night
I had a misplaced Brandy dream. Right. She is the most in-your-face of
the four, coming in to walk on us at 4 AM until one of us wakes up to
pet her.

I want to be merry. But damn it's hard. I'm really good at coming up
with pep talks for others, why can't I pep myself? Lewis Carroll again:
"She gave herself very good advice, though she very seldom took it!"

Blessed be,
Baha


I'm sorry, Baha, that this time of year is a traumatic one for you. Please
accept our very best purrs and hugs for you to find some peace in your heart
to tide you over this difficult time. I think this is a hard time
emotionally for a lot of folks; I know it takes some extra effort to make it
through to the beginning of the year for me. I find as I get older that I
want to detach myself from the frenetic feeling of this time of year; I
found out last year after our kitty rescues/vet bills that despite all the
hardship I was the happiest I'd been in a long time during the holidays just
from having accomplished a few good things. I can only imagine that
Fritzie's life brought much joy to you and it seems he also made a wonderful
difference to those who knew him at the vets', too. Remember his lovely
soul with fondness during these days and think of the love you shared; I
miss my very special boy, Frodo, greatly and always will but we had a long
and happy time together and I feel his presence still graces my life
especially with the needy ones he's sent my way.
Much love and many hugs, to you always,
Christine

I'm exhausted, simply put. Mandatory overtime at work for the holidays,
spending the rest of the time doing for Joycie and visiting our buddy
who, we just learned, is in ICU with a bitching case of pneumonia so bad
they had to put him on a respirator (purrs for James, please! He has a
collapsed lung and is in rotten shape.) and I am worn thin. This is why
you haven't seen me here in a few days. I love you all, but I'd been
needing some beauty rest because I am a freaking mess right now.

I don't like this season all too much. Christmas was the most horrid
time of the year as I was growing up, because there was more abuse. I
sometimes had to "earn the right" to get presents by getting beaten, or
touched. I had my first nervous breakdown (which caused an amnesia that
lasted almost 20 years) less than a week before Christmas, when I had
just turned 14. To this day I have trouble remembering anything prior to
1978.

I'm sorry. I hate being a whiner, being weak. In addition to my
psychiatrist, I began counseling at the Jewish Center here in Buffalo,
hoping they had experience with Holocaust-related issues. Survivors,
yes. Remarkably, there are no studies on descendants of survivors, and
were they surprised to learn I'm a Sikh! I suppose you just don't see a
pale, redheaded Sikh every day. Learning that my father actually got
into the camps for helping smuggle Jews out of Poland is making it even
more confusing for those poor social workers.

Last year on December 8, the following things happened in a space of
three hours:
1. I lost my day job.
2. I had to start the evening job I took for the season.
3. I got my period.
4. We had to put our Fritzie to sleep.

He was 19, and the day before had been fine. Then the morning of the
8th, he just crashed and burned. The vet warned us. Liver failure.
Still, he managed to do everything he loved one last time. He went
outside and sat under his favorite rosebush a while. He munched a bit of
catnip, and played with his little tassel on a sting thing, albeit
weakly. He went to every room and meowed loudly, as if he wanted to
leave the resonance behind. And then we took him.

I am indebted to the Georgetown Animal Clinic, and will never refer to
any of their vets as the "TED." They gave Fritzie a bit of painkiller
and allowed us to perform our prayers and blessings for the dying as is
done in Sikh tradition. I held him like a baby as Louie read the Ardaas,
the final prayer, which asks that, in all things, that God/dess be
remembered and that those who nobly lived be nobly received.

How noble was our Fritzie? When there was a suffering creature at the
vet's office, he'd go and make affectionate gestures that always seemed
to calm them down. The poor creatures who were about to cross over
always seemed less tense and less in pain after Fritzie rubbed up on
them. And when it was his time and he heard the heartbreaking sound of a
dog in pain who was about to be euthanized, he tried to jump at the door
to go to him. This is why I'll jump down someone's throat, who says a
cat is cold or animals are just dumb beasts. As Lewis Carroll once
wrote, if God loves sinful man, how much more must he love the animals,
who cannot sin!

When we were leaving, everyone in the office stood up. Ever see "To Kill
a Mockingbird," when Atticus loses the Robinson case and, despite this,
the defendant's friends and neighbors stand to salute his attorney?
That's what it was like. They all loved Fritzie. He was their research
boy for feline diabetes, and he was also their poster boy for diabetes
screening and their example of how a cat can have great quality of life
with consistent and watchful care. But they also thought he was a sweet
and noble fellow, with a great wisdom and dignity. He was saluted by the
staff, and the clients who knew him, as if a great leader had left this
world. Perhaps it was so; he was spiritual, and was attracted to
prayers, holy music, and meditation. I think there must be an aura of
sorts around a person in prayer, and a cat can sense it.

That night I went on a shopping freak before starting the temp job at
the mall, and had to call Louie to take away my debit card. I swear on
my mother's dentures that I don't remember buying that makeup. I took
four valium before starting at Bath & Body Works. I don't remember much
about my first night there either.

When we received the ashes we had our last ceremony. Sikhs release the
ashes of their cremated loved ones into running water. Water represents
cleansing for our souls and the power of God/dess (our Gurus taught that
the Supreme is One, yet both Mother and Father) to refresh us in our
grief. It is not seen as a throwing away, but giving the remains back to
our Mother Earth in recognition of the teaching that our divine creator
restores as well as destroys. Our prayer for the dying says that nature
performs the true ritual worship, and while the soul is united with
God/dess as a bride with her mate, the earthly part of the being joins
with nature in praise.

The vets sent us magnificent roses. Perhaps they knew that Fritzie's
favorite place was beneath a large rosebush in our back yard. We
carefull saved the petals and placed them in the carved rosewood box
they'd given us for his ashes. After a year, they still smell of roses.
We also received a surprise; before preparing Fritzie for his crossing,
the doctor made an imprint of his paw, had it formed into a heart-shaped
ornament with his name, and sent it to us. We keep in in the box with
the rose petals, and it has taken in the sweet scent. He had huge paws.
But then, he had a huge spirit.

So you'll excuse me, I hope, if I'm a little bah-humbug right now. I
love my four babies dearly, but that day was just harrowing. I've been
having nightmares of late, of "losing" one of my cats: them running off,
or me literally misplacing them. Like you can misplace a cat! Last night
I had a misplaced Brandy dream. Right. She is the most in-your-face of
the four, coming in to walk on us at 4 AM until one of us wakes up to
pet her.

I want to be merry. But damn it's hard. I'm really good at coming up
with pep talks for others, why can't I pep myself? Lewis Carroll again:
"She gave herself very good advice, though she very seldom took it!"

Blessed be,
Baha

((((((((((((((Baha))))))))))))))))

--
Joy


"Singh" wrote in message
...
I'm exhausted, simply put. Mandatory overtime at work for the
holidays,
spending the rest of the time doing for Joycie and visiting our buddy
who, we just learned, is in ICU with a bitching case of pneumonia so
bad
they had to put him on a respirator (purrs for James, please! He has a
collapsed lung and is in rotten shape.) and I am worn thin. This is
why
you haven't seen me here in a few days. I love you all, but I'd been
needing some beauty rest because I am a freaking mess right now.

I don't like this season all too much. Christmas was the most horrid
time of the year as I was growing up, because there was more abuse. I
sometimes had to "earn the right" to get presents by getting beaten,
or
touched. I had my first nervous breakdown (which caused an amnesia
that
lasted almost 20 years) less than a week before Christmas, when I had
just turned 14. To this day I have trouble remembering anything prior
to
1978.

I'm sorry. I hate being a whiner, being weak. In addition to my
psychiatrist, I began counseling at the Jewish Center here in Buffalo,
hoping they had experience with Holocaust-related issues. Survivors,
yes. Remarkably, there are no studies on descendants of survivors, and
were they surprised to learn I'm a Sikh! I suppose you just don't see
a
pale, redheaded Sikh every day. Learning that my father actually got
into the camps for helping smuggle Jews out of Poland is making it
even
more confusing for those poor social workers.

Last year on December 8, the following things happened in a space of
three hours:
1. I lost my day job.
2. I had to start the evening job I took for the season.
3. I got my period.
4. We had to put our Fritzie to sleep.

He was 19, and the day before had been fine. Then the morning of the
8th, he just crashed and burned. The vet warned us. Liver failure.
Still, he managed to do everything he loved one last time. He went
outside and sat under his favorite rosebush a while. He munched a bit
of
catnip, and played with his little tassel on a sting thing, albeit
weakly. He went to every room and meowed loudly, as if he wanted to
leave the resonance behind. And then we took him.

I am indebted to the Georgetown Animal Clinic, and will never refer to
any of their vets as the "TED." They gave Fritzie a bit of painkiller
and allowed us to perform our prayers and blessings for the dying as
is
done in Sikh tradition. I held him like a baby as Louie read the
Ardaas,
the final prayer, which asks that, in all things, that God/dess be
remembered and that those who nobly lived be nobly received.

How noble was our Fritzie? When there was a suffering creature at the
vet's office, he'd go and make affectionate gestures that always
seemed
to calm them down. The poor creatures who were about to cross over
always seemed less tense and less in pain after Fritzie rubbed up on
them. And when it was his time and he heard the heartbreaking sound of
a
dog in pain who was about to be euthanized, he tried to jump at the
door
to go to him. This is why I'll jump down someone's throat, who says a
cat is cold or animals are just dumb beasts. As Lewis Carroll once
wrote, if God loves sinful man, how much more must he love the
animals,
who cannot sin!

When we were leaving, everyone in the office stood up. Ever see "To
Kill
a Mockingbird," when Atticus loses the Robinson case and, despite
this,
the defendant's friends and neighbors stand to salute his attorney?
That's what it was like. They all loved Fritzie. He was their research
boy for feline diabetes, and he was also their poster boy for diabetes
screening and their example of how a cat can have great quality of
life
with consistent and watchful care. But they also thought he was a
sweet
and noble fellow, with a great wisdom and dignity. He was saluted by
the
staff, and the clients who knew him, as if a great leader had left
this
world. Perhaps it was so; he was spiritual, and was attracted to
prayers, holy music, and meditation. I think there must be an aura of
sorts around a person in prayer, and a cat can sense it.

That night I went on a shopping freak before starting the temp job at
the mall, and had to call Louie to take away my debit card. I swear on
my mother's dentures that I don't remember buying that makeup. I took
four valium before starting at Bath & Body Works. I don't remember
much
about my first night there either.

When we received the ashes we had our last ceremony. Sikhs release the
ashes of their cremated loved ones into running water. Water
represents
cleansing for our souls and the power of God/dess (our Gurus taught
that
the Supreme is One, yet both Mother and Father) to refresh us in our
grief. It is not seen as a throwing away, but giving the remains back
to
our Mother Earth in recognition of the teaching that our divine
creator
restores as well as destroys. Our prayer for the dying says that
nature
performs the true ritual worship, and while the soul is united with
God/dess as a bride with her mate, the earthly part of the being joins
with nature in praise.

The vets sent us magnificent roses. Perhaps they knew that Fritzie's
favorite place was beneath a large rosebush in our back yard. We
carefull saved the petals and placed them in the carved rosewood box
they'd given us for his ashes. After a year, they still smell of
roses.
We also received a surprise; before preparing Fritzie for his
crossing,
the doctor made an imprint of his paw, had it formed into a
heart-shaped
ornament with his name, and sent it to us. We keep in in the box with
the rose petals, and it has taken in the sweet scent. He had huge
paws.
But then, he had a huge spirit.

So you'll excuse me, I hope, if I'm a little bah-humbug right now. I
love my four babies dearly, but that day was just harrowing. I've been
having nightmares of late, of "losing" one of my cats: them running
off,
or me literally misplacing them. Like you can misplace a cat! Last
night
I had a misplaced Brandy dream. Right. She is the most in-your-face of
the four, coming in to walk on us at 4 AM until one of us wakes up to
pet her.

I want to be merry. But damn it's hard. I'm really good at coming up
with pep talks for others, why can't I pep myself? Lewis Carroll
again:
"She gave herself very good advice, though she very seldom took it!"

Blessed be,
Baha

{{{{{{{{{purrs}}}}}}}}}}} to you Baha. I cannot know the pain you're
feeling, but I cry with you in sympathy. Christmas is the most
difficult time of year for so many people - it brings into focus some
of our most painful memories and exacerbates feelings of lonliness and
isolation.

Tish

On Thu, 02 Dec 2004 23:53:55 -0500, Singh
wrote:

I'm exhausted, simply put. Mandatory overtime at work for the holidays,
spending the rest of the time doing for Joycie and visiting our buddy
who, we just learned, is in ICU with a bitching case of pneumonia so bad
they had to put him on a respirator (purrs for James, please! He has a
collapsed lung and is in rotten shape.) and I am worn thin. This is why
you haven't seen me here in a few days. I love you all, but I'd been
needing some beauty rest because I am a freaking mess right now.

[regretfully snipped]

On Thu, 02 Dec 2004 23:53:55 -0500, Singh
yodeled:

I'm exhausted, simply put. Mandatory overtime at work for the holidays,
spending the rest of the time doing for Joycie and visiting our buddy
who, we just learned, is in ICU with a bitching case of pneumonia so bad
they had to put him on a respirator (purrs for James, please! He has a
collapsed lung and is in rotten shape.) and I am worn thin. This is why
you haven't seen me here in a few days. I love you all, but I'd been
needing some beauty rest because I am a freaking mess right now.

I don't like this season all too much. Christmas was the most horrid
time of the year as I was growing up, because there was more abuse. I
sometimes had to "earn the right" to get presents by getting beaten, or
touched. I had my first nervous breakdown (which caused an amnesia that
lasted almost 20 years) less than a week before Christmas, when I had
just turned 14. To this day I have trouble remembering anything prior to
1978.


Hey! It's all cool.
You know a lot of people don't even need that horrendous experience in
order to dread the holidays.


I'm sorry. I hate being a whiner, being weak. In addition to my
psychiatrist, I began counseling at the Jewish Center here in Buffalo,
hoping they had experience with Holocaust-related issues. Survivors,
yes. Remarkably, there are no studies on descendants of survivors, and
were they surprised to learn I'm a Sikh! I suppose you just don't see a
pale, redheaded Sikh every day. Learning that my father actually got
into the camps for helping smuggle Jews out of Poland is making it even
more confusing for those poor social workers.

It's all so confusing, isn't it?

Last year on December 8, the following things happened in a space of
three hours:
1. I lost my day job.
2. I had to start the evening job I took for the season.
3. I got my period.
4. We had to put our Fritzie to sleep.

He was 19, and the day before had been fine. Then the morning of the
8th, he just crashed and burned. The vet warned us. Liver failure.
Still, he managed to do everything he loved one last time. He went
outside and sat under his favorite rosebush a while. He munched a bit of
catnip, and played with his little tassel on a sting thing, albeit
weakly. He went to every room and meowed loudly, as if he wanted to
leave the resonance behind. And then we took him.

sob No matter how old they are, you are never ready for the moment.
I'm glad he got to enjpy his favorite thing one more time.

I am indebted to the Georgetown Animal Clinic, and will never refer to
any of their vets as the "TED." They gave Fritzie a bit of painkiller
and allowed us to perform our prayers and blessings for the dying as is
done in Sikh tradition. I held him like a baby as Louie read the Ardaas,
the final prayer, which asks that, in all things, that God/dess be
remembered and that those who nobly lived be nobly received.

How noble was our Fritzie? When there was a suffering creature at the
vet's office, he'd go and make affectionate gestures that always seemed
to calm them down. The poor creatures who were about to cross over
always seemed less tense and less in pain after Fritzie rubbed up on
them. And when it was his time and he heard the heartbreaking sound of a
dog in pain who was about to be euthanized, he tried to jump at the door
to go to him. This is why I'll jump down someone's throat, who says a
cat is cold or animals are just dumb beasts. As Lewis Carroll once
wrote, if God loves sinful man, how much more must he love the animals,
who cannot sin!

Amen!

When we were leaving, everyone in the office stood up. Ever see "To Kill
a Mockingbird," when Atticus loses the Robinson case and, despite this,
the defendant's friends and neighbors stand to salute his attorney?
That's what it was like. They all loved Fritzie. He was their research
boy for feline diabetes, and he was also their poster boy for diabetes
screening and their example of how a cat can have great quality of life
with consistent and watchful care. But they also thought he was a sweet
and noble fellow, with a great wisdom and dignity. He was saluted by the
staff, and the clients who knew him, as if a great leader had left this
world. Perhaps it was so; he was spiritual, and was attracted to
prayers, holy music, and meditation. I think there must be an aura of
sorts around a person in prayer, and a cat can sense it.

Miss Jean Louise-- your kitty is passing.

That night I went on a shopping freak before starting the temp job at
the mall, and had to call Louie to take away my debit card. I swear on
my mother's dentures that I don't remember buying that makeup. I took
four valium before starting at Bath & Body Works. I don't remember much
about my first night there either.

When we received the ashes we had our last ceremony. Sikhs release the
ashes of their cremated loved ones into running water. Water represents
cleansing for our souls and the power of God/dess (our Gurus taught that
the Supreme is One, yet both Mother and Father) to refresh us in our
grief. It is not seen as a throwing away, but giving the remains back to
our Mother Earth in recognition of the teaching that our divine creator
restores as well as destroys. Our prayer for the dying says that nature
performs the true ritual worship, and while the soul is united with
God/dess as a bride with her mate, the earthly part of the being joins
with nature in praise.

The vets sent us magnificent roses. Perhaps they knew that Fritzie's
favorite place was beneath a large rosebush in our back yard. We
carefull saved the petals and placed them in the carved rosewood box
they'd given us for his ashes. After a year, they still smell of roses.
We also received a surprise; before preparing Fritzie for his crossing,
the doctor made an imprint of his paw, had it formed into a heart-shaped
ornament with his name, and sent it to us. We keep in in the box with
the rose petals, and it has taken in the sweet scent. He had huge paws.
But then, he had a huge spirit.

So you'll excuse me, I hope, if I'm a little bah-humbug right now

You know, you don't *really* sound so bah-humbug to me.
Do whatever you have to do for yourself. And make those kitties look
after you.



Theresa
Stinky Pictures: http://community.webshots.com/album/125591586JWEFwh
My Blog: http://www.humanitas.blogspot.com

"Singh" wrote in message
...
I'm exhausted, simply put. Mandatory overtime at work for the holidays,
spending the rest of the time doing for Joycie and visiting our buddy
who, we just learned, is in ICU with a bitching case of pneumonia so bad
they had to put him on a respirator (purrs for James, please! He has a
collapsed lung and is in rotten shape.) and I am worn thin. This is why
you haven't seen me here in a few days. I love you all, but I'd been
needing some beauty rest because I am a freaking mess right now.

Purrs for James coming and continuing purrs for Joycie (how is she doing?)

Try to get some rest to restore yourself. Take some "me" time - go to a
spa, go have a manicure, go do something to spoil yourself just a little.
Don't let this hectic time of year sap your reserves.

I don't like this season all too much. Christmas was the most horrid
time of the year as I was growing up, because there was more abuse. I
sometimes had to "earn the right" to get presents by getting beaten, or
touched. I had my first nervous breakdown (which caused an amnesia that
lasted almost 20 years) less than a week before Christmas, when I had
just turned 14. To this day I have trouble remembering anything prior to
1978.

I can't even imagine the horror you lived through - I wasn't hit until I was
married to my ex - the abusive, alcoholic @$$hole. I can't, and never will,
understand how anyone could hurt a child or any other helpless creature.
There *has* to be a special place in hell for those who do.

I'm sorry. I hate being a whiner, being weak. In addition to my
psychiatrist, I began counseling at the Jewish Center here in Buffalo,
hoping they had experience with Holocaust-related issues. Survivors,
yes. Remarkably, there are no studies on descendants of survivors, and
were they surprised to learn I'm a Sikh! I suppose you just don't see a
pale, redheaded Sikh every day. Learning that my father actually got
into the camps for helping smuggle Jews out of Poland is making it even
more confusing for those poor social workers.

Oh please! You??!? A whiner???!!!!! Weak???!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Not even
close! I'm glad you're seeing someone else - is it helping at all? If you
wouldn't mind, I'd like for you to email me your telephone number so I can
call you (lcrews-at-houston-dot-rr-dot-com), because I'm very concerned
about you and I think I may be able to help.

Christmas is the *WORST* time of year for those who are suffering with
depression. It's all that expectation that everyone should be happy and
filled with joy and the illusion that everyone else but you is happy and
filled with joy - it makes you feel very isolated and alone with your pain.
It makes you feel like you shouldn't be "bringing everyone else down" by
"complaining" so you keep all that pain bottled up inside until it
overwhelms you. It makes you feel like you will never be happy again. It's
the time of year for reflecting on the past, and when your past was filled
with horror that is *NOT* a good thing. I know all this because28 years
ago, at Christmas, I took 50 Valium and 50 Placidils ("red jellies" the
strongest sleeping pill you could get). The doctors in the emergency room
were extremely shocked that I came out of my coma.

Over the years I have learned many, many coping skills. I've learned how to
detect the early signs of depression and what to do to counteract them
before the depression becomes so deep that it is too hard to overcome and
the effort becomes to great. There are many, many small "tricks" that even
the psychiatrists don't seem to know that can help pull you back from the
abyss (some are downright silly, but hey, whatever works!!).

I can share all that with you, I can be a shoulder to cry on, I can
understand what you're going through (I, to this day, do not like Christmas
so you can feel free to grouse about it all you like and I can truly
sympathize). I can tell you funny stories about Sammy until you laugh in
spite of yourself!!! Please let me call you so I can try to help (my
company pays for my cell phone, so don't feel like you don't want me to call
because of the money spent on long distance).

Last year on December 8, the following things happened in a space of
three hours:
1. I lost my day job.
2. I had to start the evening job I took for the season.
3. I got my period.
4. We had to put our Fritzie to sleep.

Why is it that all bad things seem to happen right at Christmas? That's one
reason why my favorite quote, from Spider Robinson's "Death Killer" is, "If
a glutton commits gluttony, and a felon commits felony, then God is an
iron". God *does* commit irony, it must be His favorite joke on the world.
Just at the time of year we are supposed to be rejoicing about His Son's
birth, He gives us our worst hardships and then lets us stand, seemingly
alone, amidst the joy and celebration around us.

He was 19, and the day before had been fine. Then the morning of the
8th, he just crashed and burned. The vet warned us. Liver failure.
Still, he managed to do everything he loved one last time. He went
outside and sat under his favorite rosebush a while. He munched a bit of
catnip, and played with his little tassel on a sting thing, albeit
weakly. He went to every room and meowed loudly, as if he wanted to
leave the resonance behind. And then we took him.

Our Percy did the same thing - we lost him last November.

I am indebted to the Georgetown Animal Clinic, and will never refer to
any of their vets as the "TED." They gave Fritzie a bit of painkiller
and allowed us to perform our prayers and blessings for the dying as is
done in Sikh tradition. I held him like a baby as Louie read the Ardaas,
the final prayer, which asks that, in all things, that God/dess be
remembered and that those who nobly lived be nobly received.

{{{{{{{{{{Baha}}}}}}}}}}

How noble was our Fritzie? When there was a suffering creature at the
vet's office, he'd go and make affectionate gestures that always seemed
to calm them down. The poor creatures who were about to cross over
always seemed less tense and less in pain after Fritzie rubbed up on
them. And when it was his time and he heard the heartbreaking sound of a
dog in pain who was about to be euthanized, he tried to jump at the door
to go to him. This is why I'll jump down someone's throat, who says a
cat is cold or animals are just dumb beasts. As Lewis Carroll once
wrote, if God loves sinful man, how much more must he love the animals,
who cannot sin!

I agree. I think that those people who think that God put animals on the
earth just to be "used" by man, who think that animals don't have emotions
or feelings, are going to be quite surprised when they meet Him and learn
the truth.

When we were leaving, everyone in the office stood up. Ever see "To Kill
a Mockingbird," when Atticus loses the Robinson case and, despite this,
the defendant's friends and neighbors stand to salute his attorney?
That's what it was like. They all loved Fritzie. He was their research
boy for feline diabetes, and he was also their poster boy for diabetes
screening and their example of how a cat can have great quality of life
with consistent and watchful care. But they also thought he was a sweet
and noble fellow, with a great wisdom and dignity. He was saluted by the
staff, and the clients who knew him, as if a great leader had left this
world. Perhaps it was so; he was spiritual, and was attracted to
prayers, holy music, and meditation. I think there must be an aura of
sorts around a person in prayer, and a cat can sense it.

Oh wow, your vet clinic sounds like one I would love to have care for my
furry little darlings.

That night I went on a shopping freak before starting the temp job at
the mall, and had to call Louie to take away my debit card. I swear on
my mother's dentures that I don't remember buying that makeup. I took
four valium before starting at Bath & Body Works. I don't remember much
about my first night there either.

Well, at least you picked a harmless way in which to "lose it" - you could
have done much worse (I have in moments of panic, depression, and despair).

When we received the ashes we had our last ceremony. Sikhs release the
ashes of their cremated loved ones into running water. Water represents
cleansing for our souls and the power of God/dess (our Gurus taught that
the Supreme is One, yet both Mother and Father) to refresh us in our
grief. It is not seen as a throwing away, but giving the remains back to
our Mother Earth in recognition of the teaching that our divine creator
restores as well as destroys. Our prayer for the dying says that nature
performs the true ritual worship, and while the soul is united with
God/dess as a bride with her mate, the earthly part of the being joins
with nature in praise.

That's lovely Baha.

The vets sent us magnificent roses. Perhaps they knew that Fritzie's
favorite place was beneath a large rosebush in our back yard. We
carefull saved the petals and placed them in the carved rosewood box
they'd given us for his ashes. After a year, they still smell of roses.
We also received a surprise; before preparing Fritzie for his crossing,
the doctor made an imprint of his paw, had it formed into a heart-shaped
ornament with his name, and sent it to us. We keep in in the box with
the rose petals, and it has taken in the sweet scent. He had huge paws.
But then, he had a huge spirit.

I would have loved to have known him.

So you'll excuse me, I hope, if I'm a little bah-humbug right now. I
love my four babies dearly, but that day was just harrowing. I've been
having nightmares of late, of "losing" one of my cats: them running off,
or me literally misplacing them. Like you can misplace a cat! Last night
I had a misplaced Brandy dream. Right. She is the most in-your-face of
the four, coming in to walk on us at 4 AM until one of us wakes up to
pet her.

No need to apologize - there are *quite* a few of us here who know exactly
what you are going through. We'll be here to listen to anything you need to
say, vent all you like - we'll probably agree with most of your laments.

I want to be merry. But damn it's hard. I'm really good at coming up
with pep talks for others, why can't I pep myself? Lewis Carroll again:
"She gave herself very good advice, though she very seldom took it!"

Blessed be,
Baha

Please don't feel you "have" to be merry - that's part of the problem. You
don't "have" to feel anything just because others expect you to. Feel what
you're feeling and don't worry about what others think.

Again, please send me your number. There *are* things you can do that will
help you get through this, for some, terrible time of year. Heck, I have
trouble getting through myself and you just might be able to help me right
back!

This invitation is extended to *ANYONE* on this group who is having a tough
time coping right now. I've spent 28 years learning how to survive the
holidays without giving in to my depression - it *CAN* be done, it won't
cost you a thing (except maybe a little dignity when you do some of the
silly things that can help you fight depression ;). *DON'T* let this
holiday make you feel alone and isolated - you are *NOT*, I am right here
for any of you who need a friend right now.

Hugs,

CatNipped

Lots of purrs going your way.


--
Victor Martinez
Owned and operated by the Fantastic Seven (TM)
Send your spam he
Email me he

"Sherry " wrote in message
...
{{{{{{{{{purrs}}}}}}}}}}} to you Baha. I cannot know the pain you're
feeling, but I cry with you in sympathy. Christmas is the most
difficult time of year for so many people - it brings into focus some
of our most painful memories and exacerbates feelings of lonliness and
isolation.

Tish

I read that the MAJORITY of people feel isolated, lonely and depressed at
the
holidays. There's something wrong here. I'll bet that wasn't the case 200
years
ago, pre-Walmart. Pre-holiday marketing frenzy.
I'm sorry Baha. Vent here all you want, we understand.
Sherry --- being the newsgroup scrooge again

Given how long the winter holiday has existed, I suspect some form of
seasonal depression has existed for just as long. That the holiday is
supposed to brighten the drabbest part of the year.

Wal-Mart doesn't get to hijack the light of a thousand candles. Or the
warmth of time spent with others.

Jo

{{{Baha}}} This is a bittersweet time for me, because my Dad died on
28th December back in 1988, but otherwise I have to admit I don't know
much about what you're going through, since I had a happy childhood with
a caring family. We can send purrs and cyberhugs though. PUUURRRR!
{{{{HUGS}}}}

--
Marina, Frank and Nikki
marina (dot) kurten (at) pp (dot) inet (dot) fi
Pics at http://uk.pg.photos.yahoo.com/ph/frankiennikki/
and http://community.webshots.com/user/frankiennikki

On Thu, 02 Dec 2004 23:53:55 -0500, Singh
wrote:

I'm exhausted, simply put. Mandatory overtime at work for the holidays,
spending the rest of the time doing for Joycie and visiting our buddy
who, we just learned, is in ICU with a bitching case of pneumonia so bad
they had to put him on a respirator (purrs for James, please! He has a
collapsed lung and is in rotten shape.) and I am worn thin. This is why
you haven't seen me here in a few days. I love you all, but I'd been
needing some beauty rest because I am a freaking mess right now.

I don't like this season all too much. Christmas was the most horrid
time of the year as I was growing up, because there was more abuse. I
sometimes had to "earn the right" to get presents by getting beaten, or
touched. I had my first nervous breakdown (which caused an amnesia that
lasted almost 20 years) less than a week before Christmas, when I had
just turned 14. To this day I have trouble remembering anything prior to
1978.

{{{{{Baha}}}}}} I'm so sorry you went through that pain.

I'm sorry. I hate being a whiner, being weak. In addition to my
psychiatrist, I began counseling at the Jewish Center here in Buffalo,
hoping they had experience with Holocaust-related issues. Survivors,
yes. Remarkably, there are no studies on descendants of survivors, and
were they surprised to learn I'm a Sikh! I suppose you just don't see a
pale, redheaded Sikh every day. Learning that my father actually got
into the camps for helping smuggle Jews out of Poland is making it even
more confusing for those poor social workers.

Last year on December 8, the following things happened in a space of
three hours:
1. I lost my day job.
2. I had to start the evening job I took for the season.
3. I got my period.
4. We had to put our Fritzie to sleep.

Sometimes, there are just horrible days, and it is hard to ever feel
the same on those days again. December 8th, for me, is both the
anniversary of John Lennon's murder, and the anniversary of when we
had to have Circe put down. Not a good day.

He was 19, and the day before had been fine. Then the morning of the
8th, he just crashed and burned. The vet warned us. Liver failure.
Still, he managed to do everything he loved one last time. He went
outside and sat under his favorite rosebush a while. He munched a bit of
catnip, and played with his little tassel on a sting thing, albeit
weakly. He went to every room and meowed loudly, as if he wanted to
leave the resonance behind. And then we took him.

I am indebted to the Georgetown Animal Clinic, and will never refer to
any of their vets as the "TED." They gave Fritzie a bit of painkiller
and allowed us to perform our prayers and blessings for the dying as is
done in Sikh tradition. I held him like a baby as Louie read the Ardaas,
the final prayer, which asks that, in all things, that God/dess be
remembered and that those who nobly lived be nobly received.

How noble was our Fritzie? When there was a suffering creature at the
vet's office, he'd go and make affectionate gestures that always seemed
to calm them down. The poor creatures who were about to cross over
always seemed less tense and less in pain after Fritzie rubbed up on
them. And when it was his time and he heard the heartbreaking sound of a
dog in pain who was about to be euthanized, he tried to jump at the door
to go to him. This is why I'll jump down someone's throat, who says a
cat is cold or animals are just dumb beasts. As Lewis Carroll once
wrote, if God loves sinful man, how much more must he love the animals,
who cannot sin!

When we were leaving, everyone in the office stood up. Ever see "To Kill
a Mockingbird," when Atticus loses the Robinson case and, despite this,
the defendant's friends and neighbors stand to salute his attorney?
That's what it was like. They all loved Fritzie. He was their research
boy for feline diabetes, and he was also their poster boy for diabetes
screening and their example of how a cat can have great quality of life
with consistent and watchful care. But they also thought he was a sweet
and noble fellow, with a great wisdom and dignity. He was saluted by the
staff, and the clients who knew him, as if a great leader had left this
world. Perhaps it was so; he was spiritual, and was attracted to
prayers, holy music, and meditation. I think there must be an aura of
sorts around a person in prayer, and a cat can sense it.

That night I went on a shopping freak before starting the temp job at
the mall, and had to call Louie to take away my debit card. I swear on
my mother's dentures that I don't remember buying that makeup. I took
four valium before starting at Bath & Body Works. I don't remember much
about my first night there either.

When we received the ashes we had our last ceremony. Sikhs release the
ashes of their cremated loved ones into running water. Water represents
cleansing for our souls and the power of God/dess (our Gurus taught that
the Supreme is One, yet both Mother and Father) to refresh us in our
grief. It is not seen as a throwing away, but giving the remains back to
our Mother Earth in recognition of the teaching that our divine creator
restores as well as destroys. Our prayer for the dying says that nature
performs the true ritual worship, and while the soul is united with
God/dess as a bride with her mate, the earthly part of the being joins
with nature in praise.

The vets sent us magnificent roses. Perhaps they knew that Fritzie's
favorite place was beneath a large rosebush in our back yard. We
carefull saved the petals and placed them in the carved rosewood box
they'd given us for his ashes. After a year, they still smell of roses.
We also received a surprise; before preparing Fritzie for his crossing,
the doctor made an imprint of his paw, had it formed into a heart-shaped
ornament with his name, and sent it to us. We keep in in the box with
the rose petals, and it has taken in the sweet scent. He had huge paws.
But then, he had a huge spirit.

So you'll excuse me, I hope, if I'm a little bah-humbug right now. I
love my four babies dearly, but that day was just harrowing. I've been
having nightmares of late, of "losing" one of my cats: them running off,
or me literally misplacing them. Like you can misplace a cat! Last night
I had a misplaced Brandy dream. Right. She is the most in-your-face of
the four, coming in to walk on us at 4 AM until one of us wakes up to
pet her.

I have nightmares like that a lot, unfortunately. Losing cats, trying
to round up cats, some horrible disaster like a tornado that sends me
running around trying to make sure all my babies survived. It's
terrible. You have my sympathies

I want to be merry. But damn it's hard. I'm really good at coming up
with pep talks for others, why can't I pep myself? Lewis Carroll again:
"She gave herself very good advice, though she very seldom took it!"

Blessed be,
Baha

The holidays are hard, especially if they have been bad in the past,
or if you have lost loved ones during them. Ten years ago, I lost two
beloved cats in December, Circe (14-1/2) to cancer on Dec. 8, and
Geesha (17-1/2) to kidney failure on Dec. 26. It was a terrible
holiday season. We're all supposed to be cheery and bright, and
sometimes we just *aren't*. And that is okay.

Here's hoping that you make it through the holiday season reasonably
well this year, without trauma.

BB,

Ginger-lyn