Saturday, September 22, 2012

Frick

Nearly a month has passed and I can barely wrap my head around the crushing pain and sorrow that constantly surrounds me. On August 29th, I lost my beloved Frick. He became sick suddenly and from the beginning, I was told there would be no good outcome. I'm not sure if it was my own ignorance or arrogance that made me think I could save him. Perhaps just denial as it happened so quickly; there was no time to prepare. A fast-growing, invasive and inoperable cancer caused a fluid build-up in his chest and abdomen, almost drowning him. I took an option of exploratory surgery - the one chance he had - to see if the tumor could be removed. It couldn't. I lost him.

Mab wanders the house looking for her brother and constantly jumps onto my dresser keeping a vigil by his photo and sniffing his little bunny rabbit toy. It is heartbreak compounded by endless heartbreak. The days sort of dissolve around my once happy little world - my world with my sibling felines, Queen Mab + Frick, always together and now torn apart.


12 years was simply not long enough. I love you, my little Fricklette.

36 comments:

  1. Sending you a huge, EarthMamma embrace on this Equinox, dear one. I've been thinking about you these days and hoping that the pain of loss will ease a bit for you. A friend just posted about how she is so incredulous and the intense pain she is in having just lost her dog. Truly, it is heartbreaking. Peace and healing wishes to you and Queen Mab.

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  2. Thank you for all your kind and thoughtful words Valerianna - they truly are appreciated.

    My heart goes out to your friend. It is so difficult to think of a day when the pain/guilt/loss cycle isn't crippling.

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    1. I wish for you a release of guilt. Pain and loss must be navigated, but I KNOW there was absolutely nothing you could have done better or differently. Peace to you.

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    2. I think because our beloved animal companions cannot tell us when they are unwell - even potentially critical - we blame ourselves that we cannot see or know in some way that they are sick. He was playing just days before, hopping on the bed and nightstand the day before I took him to the vet.

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    3. Yes, that's exactly how it was with Sophia. The vet said that cats are very, very good at hiding illness....

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  3. Again, Big E-hugs, sweet lady. He's in good company. My beloved Shadow and Jett are also at play in the fields beyond the Rainbow Bridge. I think it may be time. . .

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    1. Thank you so much. I do hope Frick has some playmates to welcome him.

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  4. All my love to you xx He had 12 wonderful years with you and Mab and that's a beautiful thing... :)

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  5. Oh you dear heart. I am so sorry. If I lost my dog Gizmo, I don't know what I would do. They aren't just pets, they are companions of life, generously offering their love to you. Maybe he'll be reborn in another shape and return, or maybe he is ready to lazily drift around on a cloud somewhere or bask on some otherworldly sunny field where he can catch butterflies all day. I send you the warmest hug I can!

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    1. Mab and Frick have long been my constant and only companions. The house is so quiet...unbearable.

      I like the vision of him happy, catching butterflies. He was such a cuddly, playful, loving cat - always a kitten to me.

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  6. As someone at the beck and call of three fellow felines, I just wanted to say how sorry I was to read your news. They have an uncanny ability to become essential parts of our lives, don't they? As Wayward Harper says though, he had 12 wonderful years, shared with those who obviously loved him dearly. I hope, eventually, you'll be able to take comfort in that knowledge. Big e-hugs to you in the meantime.
    Kate x

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    1. They certainly do take over your heart and hearth. Not a single part of my house was off-limits. It was truly their home.


      Thank you:)

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  7. I'm so sorry to hear that, I know nothing that I can say from this little desk will make it any better, but my thoughts are with you and Mab. Take care of each other. Vikki xx

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  8. I'm very sorry to hear your sad news MM. We lost our dog last year after 14 years. I'm still hurting. I know exactly how you feel.

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    1. Thank you Larry. Sadly, it is a pain that resonates with so many of us. I think it forever changes us. I'm sorry for the loss of your beloved dog. Regardless of age, they remain forever our babies, don't they?

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  10. Oh no My heart breaks for you my friend...I know how you feel...the love we have for our "children" runs deep & true ... we will always carry them in my heart...So sorry to hear about little Frick...my condolences to you & Queen Mab :(

    (((HUGS))))

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    1. Thank you Linda. The house is not the same without our little Frick-kitty.

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  11. I've only just found your lovely blog, and this post just breaks my heart for you. My deepest and most sincere condolences to you and Queen Mab in this time of grief.

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    1. Thank you for your empathy and kind words.

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  13. The pictures of the two of them together just break my heart. Love to you.

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    1. Mine too and the 12 years of memories are so difficult; hope one day they turn into happy memories.

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  14. I am so sorry... nothing can bring him back. but perhaps time will bring peace.

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  15. I am sorry for your sad, sad loss of a dear little family member and friend. Many of us can relate, having said goodbye to pets who are more like little children to us. Nothing we say can make you feel better, I am so sorry.

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    1. Thank you Jeri. It has been a difficult 3 months and Mab has been sick too, requiring surgery a week ago. She still grieves for her litter-and-life mate. I don't know which one of us misses Frick the most. My simple little world certainly has been filled with shadowy gray days with no end in sight.

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  16. I often read and seldom comment and must say how very sorry that I am for your loss. Frick was a wonderful cat, even from afar his presence shone brightly. I lost my favourite cat of all at 12 years also to cancer which came suddenly and stole her away. She died on the operating table. I feel your pain and heartbreak. Minerva ~

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    1. Thank you so much Minerva. 10 months have passed, yet I still relive those final days in my mind; often I hope it was all a dream and I'll go up the stairs to see him sprawled in his favorite spot, or swatting at me as I walk by. I'm so sorry to hear about your kitty too. 12 years is just not long enough and I feel so angry and bitter that I couldn't keep him with me longer. And "stole" is such a poignant word - it is just that - a little treasure taken from you.

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  18. It's like a great mystery that I find myself needing to find an answer to, this night... I was grieving, again, as I often have done these past 15 months since I lost my dear Cosmo, his remaining littermate/sister, Stella, at my side and always asking, it seems, 'why? why" where is he?'. She has not forgotten, either. She asks ME because she last saw him as I carried him out the front door one day, coming home later without him.

    I ACHE for her, as for me.
    The morning he died, I had BEGGED him, between his frightening seizures, not to leave me, that I was not coming home from the vet's without him.
    But after an hour, in which I told the vet to do whatever he could to save my Cosmo, he returned with my shaken, dazed baby in his arms.
    'I am certain this is the brain.' he told me, and while I stroked my silver-grey tabby, huddled on the table before me, he suddenly began writhing and spasming again as the vet continued, each word like a hammer to my breaking heart, 'A tumor, or cancer, is my guess, with it coming on like this. We could operate...' he shook his head at my desperate, hopeful glance, '...but it's unlikely he would survive surgery. He has already suffered too much damage. He's probably had this his whole life, and it simply grew to a size, shifted to a place, where it would no longer be ignored. I am so sorry.'
    In vet speak, 'I am so sorry' means the WORST.
    In all of his 8 years, Cosmo had been a happy, sweet, larger than life and SO LOVED soul, had never known a harsh word, never been struck or hurt. I was SO ANGRY that in the past five hours he had suffered - continued to suffer - so very terribly. During the seizures he would hiss and spit and growl all at once - this from the gentlest - HAPPIEST! - animal I had ever known. He was angry, too. At the unfairness of it all, at the helplessness. Today was, for his first time, not a good day.
    I had to nod my head. So we let him go, let my poor, terrified baby drift to sleep in my arms, released him from this mortal shell that had let us, both, so awfully down...
    I cannot remember how I drove home, I only remember I drove, and arrived, home WITHOUT him, after all.

    I came here tonight by accident. I was crying earlier because Stella had found Cosmo's collar and was washing it, rubbing it against her face, after having pulled it out of a drawer I hadn't closed all the way. She was purring, ignoring me, and I almost took it from her; she put a paw out and hung on to it. So I tried to make myself busy on a project I had started working on some months ago, on illuminated manuscripts.
    I followed a link on Evelyn Paul's work in 'Aucassin & Nicolette'...
    ...and found myself here, the first thing I see being your message that the blog was no longer active. A 'hiatus'. Dated last September.
    There were several dozen comments in response to a terribly sad last post here, on the passing of your beloved Frick.

    I do not know you personally. But I share your pain.
    I hope you and Mab still have each other, that this very night finds her warm and softy-snoring, dozing in your lap or nearby...
    I know the ache will never completely leave you. But I do hope you will be able to smile again, find a few hours a day of 'forgetting' heartache and loss, of being able to find joy in beautiful things, like sunsets, sunrises, illuminated manuscripts, a good book, beautiful music.

    I CARE, and you and your battered, loving heart will be in my prayers and thoughts tonight and after..
    As God loves us, and is all-powerful, then surely you know that we WILL be reunited with our LOVED ONES again, in the next life? Don't let anyone else ever try to tell you differently.
    You WILL be with your beautiful little Muses again, just as I know Cosmo is patiently waiting for me, and Stella, to join him in Heaven, when it is our time.
    Good luck, and I wish you well, I really do.

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    1. Perhaps we are tethered in some inexplicable way by the grief and loss of our feline babies. Yesterday was Mab and Frick's birthday - the second one Mab has had without her brother, her Other. Your little Cosmo sounds very much like Frick - happy to just BE - engaged, silly, goofy, adorable; and above all, happy. And Stella could be Mab, finding a toy that used to be Frick's favorite and holding onto it as if she can conjure him back. I'm reminded of that phrase "time heals" but I have not found that to be true. At least not in this case. I'm so sorry that another person knows this pain and I cry with you. Thank you for your kind and understanding words and taking the time in your own grief-filled day to express it here. I wish you all the best as well.

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