New Year’s wishes and resolutions

I vowed to not blog again until I had something cheerful to say, after my last grief-stricken entry about Iggy’s sudden-ish death. But it’s been a rough 6-7 weeks since his passing, and I feel like I should report regardless of my blues. Two more cats in my care died a few weeks ago: Nieblo (fog), a beautiful grey fellow at the farm where I feed, whose predator-ravaged body I discovered on New Year’s Day, and McGee, Erin and Jonathan’s elderly cat, whom I volunteered to catsit at my house the week after Christmas so they could take a little trip. Not unlike Iggy, McGee’s cancer was an insidious, undiagnosed-but-speculated ailment, and it also took him quickly – so quickly that the mobile vet didn’t make it to my house before he passed on his own.

Those weeks were, in a word, awful. I felt punch-drunk from loss and the weight of what I could have done differently.

But, because it was the holidays, I also got some wonderful cards and emails from people who have adopted from me. The two rowdy little black girls I blogged about this fall (Lizzie and Emma) are now fully running their new home, and much adored by their new empty-nest family.

All four kitties who had been turned out when the county took away their owner with dementia in November are now in homes – a resolution that fills me with great pride. The oldest of the four, a black female named Sheba, hid under her new mom’s bed for weeks, coming out only for meals and box use. And I got this the other day: “Guess who is sitting right next to me purring her little heart out? Yep! Sheba!”

So… miracles do happen, which keeps my chin off the ground and keeps me in the game when I question whether I have the heart and the gumption to keep doing this after such a series of losses.

Without Iggy, things have shifted among my indoor brood. Big Mike – always the lowest on the totem pole despite being the largest in size – is making a run at the alpha male position. I can’t sit on a comfy chair for more than five minutes without his bulky frame filling my lap… and then some. He keeps me in constant giggles and lifts my spirits

My wish for 2019 is to do a better job at walking the fine line between compassion and an aching heart, between strength and coldness. In other words, I need to find a way to do this work without it taking such a toll. It’s a challenging “sweet spot” to find spiritually, but I’m confident I can get there. I need to; both Lena and Ginger might not be with me long. (Lena, Iggy’s mom, might have the same disease that caused his death, and Ginger’s miraculous remission from mouth cancer might be ending.)

St. Francis, guide my gaze toward the wonderful things that come from my efforts, and help me understand that helping animals cross the bridge is one of the greater services I can provide in this lifetime. And while we’re at it, help me make 2019 a year of more happy stories than sad!