OK, call me weak. I'll admit it. And oft times I believe it. I am tired, so tired. Tired of struggling, feeling inadequate, failing. I am not inadequate, but people are beating me down and intimating. Not easy to swallow after having worked so hard for 30 years to be hard to replace. And it took 6 people to do all the parts of the jobs I did when I retired, and there were still things not getting done. Hardly useless. Tired of hurting all the time. Tired of not being able to breathe properly because I can't afford to go to the specialist, let alone afford the scripts that would ease the problems. Tired of feeling alone so much of the time. Tired of being yelled at much of the time, of enduring grouchiness from others when all I want to do is be grouchy, too.
I do have Faith, but it does waiver. There is always a - but what if... I've always had trouble accepting things purely on Faith. Been burnt so many times when told to "trust me", or even "trust in your Faith, "Trust the church". Nearly always to be let down. I know that God answers all prayers, but the answer may not be what we request, or even one that we can discern. And I know that God doesn't answer all prayers.
But at least I do have Faith, imperfect as it is, imperfect as I am.
While most would think it wrong, the thing that keeps me anchored here are my cats, especially Ptera. Her exuberance, her lust for life, her complete adoration of me causes me to want to stay. I am incapable of causing her mental anguish. It is the most difficult thing to even gently reprove her for bad behavior. If I do touch her physically to let her know she behaved very badly, it is a gentle poke. We've teased her harder than such a poke. But she understands the displeasure, and will steer clear of us for a while until she recovers from her indignity at being corrected. Stern tone of voice elicits the same response. At least when she chooses to "hear" us. Spoiled brat.
Why Ptera? Sometimes I think that Smude found his way home through her. She certainly ended up in our yard as opposed to all the other choices. But she was feral, and it took several days to be able to capture her so she'd not suffer from the cold and rain and being outside. That first day inside she let the household know that I was hers. And she won my heart so quickly. I am almost frightened at how much I love that cat. I never thought I'd love a cat as deeply as I did Smudge, or at least this soon after his demise. It was nearly 20 years between Zade and Smudge. It has only been 5 between Smudge and Ptera. Zade kept me grounded all those years ago, then Smudge. Now Ptera.
Ptera is so innocent, so totally enraptured with us, especially me. She doesn't reject Kent, but he is the reason she runs and hides far more often than I. He terrifies her if he is wearing a hat. His entry into the house nearly always causes her to panic and run and hide, albeit not a far nor for as long as when she first entered our home. The person who tore her from her momma must have been a man wearing a hat... it had to have been traumatic for her. If her fear isn't related to being torn from her first home, then someone in a hat had to threaten her so severely that she can't forget it. But she found herself in our yard, and wriggled her cute little self into our lives. Kittens grow up to be adult cats and lose their kittenish looks and size. God granted me a great boon when Ptera turned out to be a mini-kitty. At nearly 2 years old she is the size of a 3/4 grown cat. She is such a petite thing, and will forever be part kitten because of her size. Maybe that is why I care so much for her. She will always be my kitten.
Breathing problems kept me from my bedroom for over 6 weeks, and I slept nightly in a recliner. Ptera might deign to sleep near me, even on the back of the chair, and very seldom, within arm's reach on the foot rest. Once in a while she'd curl up on me, but only for a few minutes. When I slept in the bedroom, she'd normally curl up in the small of my back, or the curve of my torso when she decided to sleep with me. It used to be that it was all the time, but in the past few months, it was few and far between. I sleep better with her curled up next to me. But in the chair, she would not curl up with me. I returned to the bedroom 5 weeks after the death of my father, and she returned with me, to either stretch out along my back, or to drape herself across my neck. And she has been more attentive since we've returned to the bedroom.
Are we addicted to one another? Perhaps. We do need one another, and I don't know who needs the other more. But leave her I cannot do. Ever. For any reason. She is what is keeping me sane, or at least able to maintain some semblance of sanity. Perhaps the only thing. I am a cat lover, and I do love the other 4 cats, but not like I love Ptera. I know they would all adjust without me, but Ptera may not. I am her world, the one port of safety in her world. I will suffer what I have to suffer to be here for Ptera's sake.
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