Words to Remember You

Yellow lily. PHOTO BY SI.

I appreciate you.

I appreciate that you taught me the importance of being genuine.

I appreciate that you modeled honesty when things were not right to you.

I appreciate that you made an effort to rebuild bridges and give people a second chance.

I appreciate that you acted on your concern for others.

I appreciate that you presented your passion for creating networks of care and motivated people to act.

I appreciate that you were forgiving to others and to yourself.

I appreciate that you stood up against oppression and stuck to your principles.

I appreciate that you recognized your weaknesses but equally acknowledged your resilience.

I appreciate that you valued deep, strong, and lasting friendships.

I appreciate that you remained hopeful and had faith in your and other people’s capacity to offer care.

I appreciate that you put your trust in others and asked for support when you were hurting.

Because, my friend, you taught me that no person is an island.

Because, my friend, people may not have had the chance to see the WHOLE of you.

And so, I say these words about you and for you, because I don’t want to forget your humxnity.

I don’t want to forget your vision for a kinder, more loving, more just and forgiving world.

And if I am one among a few people who now hold your vision close, I will do my best to model its life-affirming and empowering message in my thoughts, in my actions, and in my spirit.

And one more thing I wish to say...

You made it after all, my friend, so fare thee well. 

Fare thee well. 

In memory of my brilliant friend.

Dear Losers of the World

Dear Losers of the World,

I hear you. I see you. I connect with you and all the mess you've created on this earth. All the mess you expect others to clear away for you. Dear Losers. I feel the pain of your anguish - that anguish, that dread that knows, without even looking in the mirror, that it was all done by YOU. All of it. All of it. Not a single other. Not a single wee tiny little mouse. All of it was done by YOU. 

And because of that, you're kinda feeling loser-ly tonight. You're kinda feeling like all confused, and hurt, because you can't make sense of the guilt, that gnawing, attacking, insulting, totally not-pc GUILT! When you feel like that, you feel helpless. You feel sorry for yourself and then you can feel the power within you slipping away - actually the power just kind of starts vanishing in the thick of it, in the thick of the unconscionable but in the thick of discovering the unconscionable which then becomes conscious to you. It becomes so real. Too real. And you can't escape the discomfort of it all. 

So, you try to scratch it out of you, to slit the skin so the poison burns your fragile exterior as it pours out with singular uncompromising speed, you do everything you can, that's within your power, which is actually no longer power, but sickening self-pity instead that will further devastate and deviate from what you were initially brought somewhere to do.

Dear Losers, I know your life, my life, are fragile webs and they can't always hold the impact of all the wrath we fling this way and that way like the steel blades of a hurricane slicing through hope, faith, peace, love, whatever. I know that in this experience of deep loser-li-ness, as you think thoughts of offing your putrid selves for the benefit of all Humxnkind and for the sake of the Animals who will no longer be murdered just to feed you, for the sake of every being. It is better to lose your life than the world having to lose the lives of so many others.

So, in that experience, in that moment when it's too late, when you've lost your life (could be both literally and figuretively), I want you to feel pride for having done what you did. For having the guts to go without a bang. For letting the world find out gradually that you are no longer with us. 

Because that's just what losers must do. They must off themselves and hope to the Almighty-master-fear-monger-himself-herself-their-selves that where their souls are heading/headed is a place where such worries are never entertained. And so, my dear Losers, you will find great peace in death. Great riches none like here on Earth. Great moments of joy and wonder, never fear or danger.

And I wonder, Dear Losers, what that would be like.

Death, Grief, Remembering, Learning

AK/Boojie staring out from one of his favourite hiding places. PHOTO SI

A friend of mine recently lost her cat, who died quite suddenly. Cats have passed from sudden death syndrome, and vets say it may be connected to heart health issues or ringworms. My friend posted a few heartfelt narratives about her precious fur baby and wrote about that special interspecies bond that all cat lovers know so well. It was beautiful prose to remember a beautiful friendship. I know that my friend is devastated from her loss and it made me think about losing AK/Boojie in January of this year.

What I've learned is that though the frequency of visits from Grief start decreasing as time passes, the emotional intensity is always the same with always the same questions running through my head - why? how? what if? But no matter what, all those feelings and all those questions cannot somehow erase the suffering some of the cats in our lives went through - suffering that they often endured in silence until they could no longer stand the pain.

I will never forget the sight of AK as he was leaving this life behind. The rigor mortis set in within two hours. I stayed close to him for a while and Lalu did too. Then I covered him up in a blanket and placed him in the large litter box with a cover that I washed completely before putting him inside. He couldn't fit anywhere else because his body had stiffened. I covered the box with a prayer mat and then waited for the morning to come so I could take his body to the vet to schedule his cremation.

AK's former caregiver arrived at my home to accompany me to the vet with AK. He wanted to see him. When I opened the top cover of the box and pulled back the blanket covering AK, he knelt down and stroked AK's head. He loved AK like family, and I knew that seeing his best little fur buddy that way broke his spirit.

I think these memories are important. They play a significant role in making us humans realize our capacity to nurture deep emotional and spiritual connections to other species; there is an intelligence and intimacy there that only people who have opened their hearts and homes to such relationships truly understand and appreciate. My hope is that through loving all the animals that have come and gone in my life, i will learn to extend that kind of familial sensitivity, affection, and concern to other animals, especially the ones who suffer from the day they are born to the day they are killed, for food, for scientific and medical tests, and for entertainment.

I will never know why at 4 cat years of age, AK had to go, and why I was not able to provide him a peaceful death in time. But life and death collided that night. In such circumstances, the learning is like a slap in the face. And so, to continue honoring his memory and to never forget the pain of his death, the two cats with me now receive all the best of my care. It is still a rocky road though and this home I have for them is not perfect. I can only work hard and can only hope that my fur babies - when each of their time comes - they will be in a safe loving comfortable space, they will be pain-free and can make their exit from here and head for their souls' liberation without any fear.

Sending loving thoughts and prayers to my friend's cat, Frida, as she begins a new existence somewhere in the universe, maybe as consciousness - consciousness that adds more love, more playfulness, and more joy in our world because that's just what cats bring to our lives in general and that's just what makes them such amazing healers, such dedicated furiends, and such engaging teachers. Rest in peace, sweet Frida.

The Other Me

Filtered. SI

I saw the other me tonight. The other me from a past life. I need the filter though to protect that other me so you can't see them as clearly. But I can.

I understand now why those red dresses mean something to me. Why the stories enrage me. Why the voice wants to be set free. It's the other me.

Somebody who was a nobody, then became...a body.

And this is why we need to stop telling people they're not like us, or they don't know us, or they can't do what we can do. There is an other in all of us - maybe one, maybe ten.

When you find your other like I found mine - captured in a selfie, from a distance, you too might see it. The confusion will clear. It might scare you, but you will understand the whys.

The past beyond this past. Beyond that past. Beyond. Beyond. Beyond.

How far back does this other me want me to go? How many lifetimes were skipped? How many other mes did I miss? Or, did it all happen yesterday?

If I look deeper, I might find the puzzle pieces to put the story of this other me together. I might see their name. On that list. In red. On a sign held by a mother, or a grandmother, or a sister, or a daughter.

But the other me never really died. They were waiting to be found.

So, here they are. In this selfie. Flashy colours. Slight grin. Proud chin. Back. Not for truth. Not for that other damn thing. Not for a sad red dress. But for reclamation. Resurrection.

Restitution.

This other me. Now you will hear their voice. Free. At last.

What happened?

Somewhere in the middle of nowhere lies hidden memories of a past. PHOTO BY SI

Is it really important to find out what happened to you if you have no clue what happened? Can healing only be linked to "what happened" or is it possible for healing to come from never knowing the truth of what happened but working on managing the after-effects/consequences/symptoms of that truth? You may have an idea of what that truth could be, but you run into a mental barrier or a blockage that prevents you from discovering that truth. In seeking the truth, how to go about it if memory fails you? Still, can one heal without having to search for and unearth one's archaeology? Can we find liberation through what we know of ourselves in the now without the need to dynamite the concrete walls that imprison the past? Maybe it's for a good reason that we can't ever know.

Grieving with the rain

Boojie-Woojie looking into the lens and thinking fur-baby thoughts. Spring 2016. PHOTO BY SI

Today I picked up Boojie-Woojie's small blue urn and held it close to me. I wondered how all that big bright presence that was you could fit inside such a small space. I lit the candle beside the urn and the one placed on the table where your memorial photos greet me daily as soon as I enter the apartment. Lalu never lounges too far from it whenever I let her out on the stairwell. It's like she knows you're there watching over us.

In lighting candles in your memory every single night since your death at the end of January this year, it was my way of reaching out to whatever form and energy you are now. I don't know where you are. I only hope that wherever you may be and in whatever form, you are not suffering. It would break me completely if I ever discovered through all my explorations about life after death that you are now worse off. I am always praying that your joyful and active spirit is creating ripples of laughter and happiness through the elements that define your Heaven.

Boojie-Woojie, maybe you are aware that another fur baby will soon be arriving, another one who looks kind of like you but is also her own unique spirit. I found her the same way I found you, and I wonder if this is your way of giving me another chance. I will not delude myself into thinking that she may be you as a different fur baby. I know you're gone forever. But your memory will guide me towards a better life for myself and for Lalu and for the new one entering our home.

I don't know why whenever I think about you, whenever I talk about you, whenever I look at your photos, whenever I write about you, I shed such heavy tears. My heart will never be at rest knowing that I could have done so much more for you. I always think now how much you're missing out on and what fun it would have been for you as you continued growing and learning about the world around you. You were still a bit of a baby at 4 kitty years of age but in human years, you would have been a 20-something youth!

We all miss you very much, and you know what I mean when we say "we". All the humans who had the honour to know you and to care for you - they too think of you just as much as I do. We are always rooting for you, hoping and praying that someday we won't feel the intense pain of flashbacks of those final hours before your last breath; we will (and must) instead rejoice in and celebrate the brief and beautiful time you were with us.

Forever Boojie-Woojie-Boo-Boo. May Love be with you always.

Don't give up because...

PHOTO BY SI

...Life will always hold out its hands for you. This may seem like a cliche or a bunch of cheap words to get you thinking of your life in a different way, but you have to trust me when I say I've been where you are now. Actually, I'm never outside of where you are now. It's a constant battle I have with myself and inside my head. This battle you know yourself - the one in which we tell ourselves all kinds of lies about what we think of ourselves and who we think we are and all the ways we need to rid the world of our presence. I've too felt the self-loathing and experienced the hard and unrelenting bite of guilt and shame. And then depression. I know this is something you can relate to as well.

Do you always feel like this? Always so shitty about yourself? Always thinking you will never be deserving of anything that comes close to some peace of mind, about your life? Well, if you're always feeling shitty, then I can appreciate why you would refuse to reach out and talk to someone. If you already feel you're worthless to yourself, how will your mind ever convince you that you are deserving of seeking treatment and care for that?

My answer is not a solution and will probably not end the self-loathing thoughts in your head but it may offer you some kind of catalyst to seek change. My answer is the Body. My body continues to save me. Your body may too.

My body has time and time again reminded me of the truly horrible consequences of toxic thoughts about myself. I felt the physical pain of such thinking and how it was all wearing me down and depriving me of the energy I needed so badly to keep me active, alert, and in good spirits. My body is my protector, and has helped me rebound after negative life experiences. It has never let me down - although it now sadly but courageously bears many of the scars from the self-destructive demon in me. I now recognize my body as wise and that it will always do what it can to convince me that there is still a lot more to be done in the life I currently inhabit.

Of course, those nagging thoughts will continue to come back, but each time they come, I feel I am better prepared than the last encounter. My tools are practicing mindfulness and putting on the hat of an observer where I imagine myself standing outside of myself and observing me while I am experiencing an episode of mental distress. When I observe myself from a distance, I can appreciate that this experience is fleeting - just like everything else in life - and that soon I'll stand up, dry off my tears, and resume my activities. If you try this exercise next time you feel seriously low about yourself, don't expect it to change you right away. After all, I'm just planting the seed in your head so that you may consider this strategy. I'm sure if you stepped away from yourself and just watched the other you experiencing this momentary suffering, you may feel empathy for yourself and may feel the urge to help yourself overcome this moment. You'd also see that you're human and that it would be ok to reach out for support.

I got the idea to do this from Michael A. Singer's book The Untethered Soul: The Journey Beyond Yourself. It really made sense to me and the more I put this mindfulness and visualization of me stepping away from my hurt self, the more I learned to accept where I was at and not hate myself for being in such circumstances. This may happen to you too if you allow yourself to connect to your body so it can send you signs and signals. Listen carefully. Your body is attempting to save your life. And it will continue to make these attempts for as long as you feel your life is not worth living. That's the survival mechanism working in us as it should.

It's not just about surviving for the sake of our species as our hunter-gatherer ancestors might have thought; it's also about embracing this life we've been given and living our full potential every day, no matter where we're at. It's about igniting our heart spirit and going beyond the trauma to a time when our spirits danced with joy as we were ushered into this world.

Living your full potential in one day can be anything, anything that brings a smile to your face and gives you the sense that you contributed some good to the world. An act of kindness? Making less waste? Recycling/Reusing? Taking public transit? Talking to a stranger? Donating some change? Helping a friend in need? Foregoing meat consumption? Taking a leisurely walk? It's in the simple where we might find our full potential. We don't have to bear important titles or several letters behind our names or single-handedly fix the world's problems in order to justify our existence. It's the little things we do day by day that can help rebuild our love for life.

Circumstances may have stolen our innocence in cruel and horrifying ways but they could never vanquish the warm glowing steel-like strength at the core of our nature: that muscle called humxnity, that muscle that keeps our hearts beating and our minds evolving. Don't prematurely end your journey. You must keep searching for the good in you and the good in others.

Your negative thought and behavioural cycles may be difficult to escape from. Never fear because through all of your own trauma/past trauma, you made it this far. Don't give up because there is still so much of the world you need to open yourself to; there is still so much of your own body and soul you need to explore, learn from, and hopefully come to cherish unconditionally.

Remember, it's in the simple things where you may find small mercies. It's in the simple things where lives may be saved, yours, mine, and those belonging to the people, animals, plants, insects, and micro-organisms we interact with along this glorious, effervescent, and transformative path.

Don't give up. There is so much more to you - beautiful, brilliant you - than you may be thinking at this moment.

Hotline Numbers to Call for Help

What will it take?

Message at a bus stop. PHOTO BY SI

This morning, I experienced a sickening thought about the reality of our great planet and humxnkind. In short, humxnkind is fucked. We don't seem to want to evolve and some of us are devolving to blood-thirsty cannibals gnawing at the dry, brittle remnants of lost innocence.

In the world I see before me, cruelty and the destruction of life abound. It was a fairytale to believe that good will prevail but when I look more closely at "the good", I see maliciousness in its glint, exposing me to the hellish underbelly of all our polished and morally-upright cultures and societies. You see, behind every mask, there is another fake one, and then another until Truth can be hidden no more. Truth of their deception. Truth of their vile behaviours. Truth of how they control all the ticking clocks that tell people and animals and any other life force that their time is up. Time is up, and here, we've devised a particularly sadistic method of ridding the world of You.

I felt hopeless in the face of this realization that nothing is ever what it seems. Everything can be turned upside topsy turvy down. And with this force, people do the State's bidding. Let's send Frankie to war to kill off more innocent Iraqi women and children. Sure. Let's pound the shit out of this fat pink fleshy thing before we eviscerate it. Let's bungle up inquiries of MMIWG2S because their lives never mattered in our 150-year-old colonizer-settler agenda. I freeze in my tracks shocked by the indifferent and hostile narratives that they've taken the liberty of weaving because the dead have no voice. I hear more...

Let's not give any credence to the laughably terrified womxn and their children who are stalked out of their minds before they too meet a wretched end. They'll always schedule things to ensure "it was too late", and "nothing could be done", So, now we have more bodies floating like magical sparkly stars reflected in the water - these stars have found their exit, to what kind of beyond, I have no clue, but I hope it's a beyond that's  far more different than the one they were just betrayed in. 

The countless wars - the ones that continue to ravage and render poor brown boys and girls collateral damage. You see, it's a form of population control. How many can they get rid of in a single year? A single month? A single week? A single day? You see, if they bomb the blithereens out of those monkeys, whatever remnants are left of their offspring will grow up more fucked than ever because their people don't exist. They took care of violently erasing the vestiges of history, artifact, architecture, and civilization. Meanwhile, the very leaders who condemn so-called terrorist attacks in their haloed territories give the OK to bomb more innocents of civilizations that will suffer through generations of trauma and fear.

Is the world really this horrendous, this mucky, this immoveable, and unchangeable? Well, no, because no matter our resistance and stubborness, humxn consciousness will and must evolve, and is envolving even when we struggle to live staunchly according to the dictates of tradition, custom, ritual, history. Yet, in the seemingly high tides of frantic despair as we cling onto buoys that were ill-constructed, and therefore, sinking into the netherworld of an ocean deep where we might stop knowing ourselves, our salvation lies ahead of us.

But first, we must sink this ship. The ship of doom and gloom, the ship that carries our dark underworldly thoughts and manifestations. If we wish to harm ourselves or harm another or others, then we must be open to a higher power stopping us in our tracks and help us recognize and be fully cognizant of the implications and consequences if we gave such behaviours the green light to spread their wrath helter skelter. It is only through deep, abiding self-reflection, meditation, and perhaps some humble offering of service to community that may pave the way for a holistic-spiritual awakening. An awakening that grounds us and centers us in the realm of all that is good, all that is just, all that is life-affirming.

I especially wish this for all the folks battling with an overarching criminal mindset. Although my blog post here may have started with negative commentary about the state of our world, I have faith and a strong belief in the power of each of our consciousness to help us relinquish those cyclical toxic traps that we thought were our happy places but really they're just learned behaviours that sabotage our best efforts to heal and to rediscover the love sitting within us snce birth, since time immemorial.

World, the healing has already begun, and I'm sending out a heartfelt plea to everyone to do their part. Get close to yourselves. Understand your demons. Challenge the desire to cause pain. Why pain? What is that worthless "it" inside you? Why give it so much power? You need to realize that real power doesn't feel like that.

Real power is Love. Nothing can beat it. Not even the most wildest rage inside the breast of a killer. In time, the power of Love will take effect once the Higher Power - which is our collective inter- and intra-species consciousness, offers this killer the chance to change the course of his/her/their life. In time, he/she/they'll discover the incredible gift of a heart that was given to him/her/them, and he/she/they will then perhaps move in a different direction - seeking redemption, sensing remorse - away from the pain they've always known.

Our world deserves better. Ask yourself, what will it take? I think we all know the answer.



Love. It's an action.

When the grief hits again and again

Boojie in front of the heater - his favourite spot. 

Last couple of days, I thought I had found a happy place in my mind where I could think of him without breaking down, but nope. The grief has caught up with me again today. It feels like an extreme form of loneliness and isolation, alone in my mind and even in the midst of noise, I can feel the dead weight of silence. It's the inescapable regret of not having done enough that keeps coming back to haunt me. 

In these moments, I'm constantly wishing he'd just suddenly appear and all would be well again. It makes me wonder about reality, and if I could see him somehow living in a parallel universe. My happiness would be an attempt to encompass and honour his spirit in me but I can't make it work. These attempts failed and all I have in me is the cold cruel truth of his loss. 

I know whatever I do to try to free myself from this grief, nothing can replace the overpowering yearning in me for him to be alive again. If he had lived, I think I would have done all I could to get him and my other fur baby out of this place and into a bigger, better home with more stairs to climb and closets to hide in. He would have been a much happier cat and probably would have grown free of his health condition. No stress anymore. Just a happy, care-free cat who could have lived out a full life as he should have in the fur-baby body he was born into, given to him by the cool and magical dust of the universe and his ancestors, and then gifted to us - his human guardians - so we could learn to love and care and raise an entirely different species, another living being, as our own. 

Boojie-Boo-Boo, you are never too far in my thoughts, and if I slip and get distracted, memories of you always reappear to remind me of your eternal jovial quintessence. 

Kedi weaves a tender narrative about street cats in Istanbul and the humans who love them

Kedi by Ceyda Torun

My Boojie-Boo-Boo (d. Jan 28, 2017) and Lalu-Jaanu.
Not street cats but sweet and feisty fur babies, all the same.

In the film, it is said that cats know better than dogs that humxns aren't gods and that cats have the power to sense when the humxns they're close to are struggling with some toxic feelings. The humxns in this film assert that the street cats they befriended would make them feel joy again. This is so true. This film made me laugh and cry. I rejoiced in knowing that Lalu was waiting for me at home. I remembered my fur baby AK.

I have so much respect for the Turkish folks of Istanbul featured in this film who were so kind to the cats and kittens. They fed them. They welcomed them into their homes and shops. They gave them affection when they needed it. And they backed off when the kitties needed their space and freedom. It's an old culture of care for street animals that's rare, like one of the guys in the film who would take bags of meat and fish around the city where colonies of street cats lived and then feed them. People would say to him that God would provide, and he would respond by telling them he was God's middle-man then.

There were some heartwarming insights and perspectives shared by these cat humxns of Istanbul - deeply reflective, tender, and poetic. What's more, we get to really understand that all of the cats featured have their own unique personalities, which is true of any and every cat, and for that matter, any and every other nonhumxn animal. It's unfortunate that many humxns can't or don't want to see that. This film deepens our awareness of feline culture and community.

It was a beautiful film. Hot Docs Cinema will be adding more showtimes since it's been a packed house every day the film's been shown. Check it out if you can! I can't wait til it either appears on Netflix OR I can get my hands on a DVD copy!

Letter to my Cat, AK/Boojie, b.Aug.7, 2012 - d.Jan.28, 2017

Memorial for Boojie near the front door where
he used to wait for me or to ask me to let him out.
His favourite catnip is in the black box on the right. 

Dear Boojie,

I know you were also named AK, but you always responded to me whenever I called you "Boojie" - thank you for accepting my name for you.

My darling energetic fun-loving fur baby, I miss you so much. It's been nearly 6 days since you passed away with me right beside you. The grief I feel seems like it's going to last forever. It hits me on a daily basis, even though I try my best to distract myself. I know when it seeps into my heart whenever I feel weakness there. It is dread, it is sadness, it is despair, it is silent distress. I could be walking out of a coffee shop or off the bus, and wham! it hits me as I look out into the sometimes quiet, the sometimes busy streets of the city. I wonder if you are out there, still, in spirit, and I will call your name under my breath, and then the tears would well up.

Some of my friends have told me to move on. Blogs by pet experts tell me that you are up there somewhere wanting me to be happy and to accept that you had chosen to leave that way. I think that's all nonsense, Boojie! Why would a cat who was so curious about everything he smelled, he saw, he heard, he touched choose death? Boojie, you loved being Alive. I witnessed it. You were like a kitty growing into your adulthood with so many questions about the world around you. Not just that, you were also an anxious cat, easily frightened by strange sounds coming in through the windows, and you would move ever so cautiously towards a new toy or object that I would bring into the home, and I know you never liked the hand-held vacuum cleaner I'd use to clean up the cat hairs and catnip on the rugs. It doesn't make sense to me that you would "choose" to go in such a way that probably frightened you and that caused you to suffer so much.

Boojie, I know you didn't want to die. Your death was senseless. You didn't have to die. You didn't have to go so soon. So, Boojie, I am sorry that I didn't do enough to save you. I'm sorry that I didn't take preventative measures to ensure that after that first time you fell ill and I took you to the vet, that you'd never have to experience that kind of illness again. But I failed miserably because I didn't think it would catch up with you like it did. I thought you'd be completely healed and this condition would never come back. But it did.

When I first adopted you, I believed that young cats were the epitome of good feline health. I never considered that you young fur babies could get too sick since your bodies would be strong enough to fight off whatever sickness that may come up from time to time. So, when I first started learning about Urinary Tract Blockage in young male cats, I did not think it was something that serious that would affect you. Time and time again, I'd notice you'd have trouble urinating, but then would bounce back and start urinating as usual.

The first time I witnessed the illness take hold of you, I was really scared. When I took you to the vet, the vet I saw was not the nicest person. She didn't even explain things to me - she just said if I didn't do all these tests now, you would die. I was in tears and texted my sis about the situation. I told her how much it would cost to get all these tests done, which was pretty much my rent, and for a person living month to month, I knew I needed to borrow from others to pay for your treatment. Boojie, I want you to know that you are not responsible for whether I could pay or not pay for your treatment. Like I said, I should have taken preventative measures that could have protected you from developing a blockage had I known that this was something especially male cats are at huge risk of.

The vet then offered the other option and that was to give you an antibiotic for now to reduce the potential for infection or to get rid of the infection since we had no idea what it actually was. I took you home and made sure you were cozy and then left for work. But then the next day or two, you started urinating blood and I was panicking. I took you back to the vet and this time I left you there for the day so the vet could see what was up. I was in tears when I dropped you off and the receptionist felt sorry for me and offered me some kind words.

The vet - different vet who had seen you a few times before - called me and said that she was prescribing pain meds for now and that the antibiotics were kicking in. She said if your condition didn't improve, that I could bring you back in for an x-ray to see what was happening in your urinary tract. I was relieved when I heard this and also super grateful for my sister who paid for the meds and covered the cost of the antibiotics.

I took you home and monitored your condition. In a few short days, you were back to peeing as normal, but was kind of starting to avoid your litter box because, Boojie, I know you had connected the litter box with the pain of your illness. So, then I accommodated things for you and took off the cover of the litter box and placed the box in a different location in the apartment. You used it for your poo and occasionally used it for pee, but sometimes I'd either find a large wet spot on one of the rugs just before I had to head to work or would sniff it out after coming home. I'd always know because you'd treat the small rugs like they were litter and would bunch up the area on the rugs where you peed. I knew you were feeling some distress, and I didn't want to make things harder for you, so I just went about cleaning after you and being encouraging and supportive because I knew it was more important that you were peeing on the rugs instead of not peeing at all anywhere. I was always happy each time you peed even though it meant vigorously washing or replacing each of the rugs. Much later, a friend suggested that I put pee pads everywhere - the kind people use to train their puppies. I did that and you didn't seem to like them much. You did pee on one once, but in general, you were always looking for another rug to pee on.

During that period of time, you seemed ok - eating as normal, meeting me at the door when I came home from work, waiting patiently for your wet food meals mornings and evenings, sitting on top of me and then eventually going to sleep on top of me, chasing after the furry wiggly toy I bought for you and that I'd use for your playtime, exploring with so much fascination the stairwell of the building even though you'd already been out there the previous day - it's like you had discovered something new about it every time, drinking water from the bowl as normal, being silly with Lalu or at least trying to get her to play cat and mouse with you, jumping on the window sill and looking out into the world - listening to the sounds of traffic and making eye contact with the friendly squirrels scrambling around on the roof of the building next to ours...I believed that you'd have a long happy life and that we would no longer have to worry about that illness again.

I recall now that time I saw a psychic and asked her about you and Lalu. She told me she could see a cat that had black fur markings - Lalu, and a cat that was gray. I was confused because you are not a gray kitty. She said she heard a lot of meowing. I knew then that sometimes you'd meow to ask me to open the front door to let you out into the stairwell so I thought she was referring to that. Since that session, this strange discomfort remained in the back of my mind. It wasn't until after you were gone, that I realized the discomfort was a warning of the loss to come and that the meowing she heard was you, later, trying to tell me that you were in pain.

Close-up of Boojie as he sat on top
of me. He'd do this every time I
would lay down. I think it was his way of
giving he and I some comfort. 

It happened in a blink of an eye. I didn't know what was happening but I prayed you'd be ok til I could take you back to the vet to get all those tests done, especially the x-ray. The clinic receptionists would time to time check in with me about you, but now in retrospect, I wish it had been your vet doing the check-ins. I wish that the vet had explained to me that you may experience a relapse of the condition. I wish the vet had sat down with me to get a sense of what your living conditions were like and what in the space you shared with me and Lalu could put you at risk of urinary tract blockage or infection. I wish that the vet had explained to me what the first signs of a blockage were and what I needed to do the moment I noticed any of these symptoms. I wish the vet had asked me about your diet and then recommended hers instead of not checking in with me about what you liked eating and did not like eating. I wish she had told me that the kibble diets that she had recommended for you to help you control your weight and to help you maintain your dental health may also put you at risk of blockage/crystals forming in your urinary tract because the water content in these dry food diets was not enough to keep your internal organs hydrated and to keep fluids moving as they should.

But, Boojie, I know I should have been pro-active as well and initiated these conversations with the vet; I should have asked her plenty of questions to confirm what I've read about this condition online. Reading something online and hearing it from the vet are two completely different things, and I believe if I had gotten the information from the latter, you'd probably still be alive, Boojie.

It was a painful experience to witness your death. But I know that had I taken you to emergency that night, you may not have survived the cold commute and all the moving around. I may have had to put you down at the hospital and maybe they might not have allowed me in the room while they put you to sleep or maybe they would have but you might have felt even more scared under the bright lights and strange faces with their instruments. My intuition told me not to put you through that. Although right up until the time of your death just after 3:35 a.m. on Saturday, Jan. 28, 2017, I thought you'd still pull through. My sis told me to make sure to comfort you by stroking your fur and whispering encouraging words to you. I did all of that, and when the clock struck your time, I heard a gurgling from your throat, and my hand on your body no longer felt the slow up and down movement of your breathing. I checked to make sure - I called your name and stroked you gently and put my ear on your body to listen for a heartbeat. No sound, no movement. Your eyes were glassy and your mouth remained open. I called my sister and burst into tears as I told her you were gone. She began crying too.

Remember, Boojie, when my sis came to town and she came over to meet you and Lalu? Remember when she held you on her lap and looked into your eyes? I knew she had fallen for you the same way I had when I first saw that pic my friend had posted of you on Facebook when your former guardian needed to find you a new home. I was only supposed to foster care for you for a couple of weeks till a new forever home for you could be found, but within the week of your arrival, I brushed aside all thoughts of letting you go, and I picked up that phone and told your former guardian that I'd like to be the one to give you that forever home. My sister did too and she said that if ever I couldn't handle two cats, she'd take on your care and would come to take you to Vancouver where she lived with her friendly dog, who you would have totally gotten along with! Now that I think about it, you were more like a dog than a cat, Boojie! You had such a large presence in this home and you'd always be waiting by the door for me to come home to either let you spend some time running up and down the stairs in the stairwell or feed you your favourite wet food. If only I had done that sooner, Boojie. My sister would have had all the resources to take good care of you. She had close friends who had cats and knew a lot more than I did about their health needs and risks. She would have had them to turn to if you had gotten ill again. Oh my Boojie, I denied you the chance to live a long carefree, comfortable, and happy life!

Just two days ago, I woke up after hearing your meow somewhere near where my head rests on the pillow. When you were alive, that's where you'd sit and wait for me to get up. You'd sometimes jump on the bed from that spot and try to get me to wake up. It was always around 4:30am-5am that you would wake up and become restless. You were only relaxed once I got up. I know part of it was the wet food meal, but even with that, you were patient to wait until 6:30am-7am. I sometimes felt that you were anxious about me not waking up. It's almost like you were warning me about something - that I needed to be awake and conscious of things around me.

I've had fears in this place I live in. I think some of that fear remained in the atmosphere of our home and Boojie, I think you picked up on it. I used to follow your eyes up to a spot on where the wall would meet the ceiling just above the head of my sofa bed. I'd see nothing there, but I was always fascinated by how intently you'd look up at that spot. Sometimes it was nothing more than a bug on the wall that I saw you staring at, but other times, it was just empty space and I wondered what you could see that I could not.

And then just days before you died, remember Boojie, we heard the cries of a cat outdoors? Remember I stepped out into the cold night to find out where the cries were coming from so I could help the poor kitty? Remember the very next morning, we heard the cries again, and this time, I opened the back door to look around and saw an orange tabby I've seen before in the neighbourhood walking up the concrete backyard stairs of the apartment building next to ours? Remember you heard me call out to that cat, and it just looked at me for a while and then looked away? Remember when you saw me place a bowl of water and a bowl of kibble for that cat on the landing of the iron stairwell? I saw that you were curious about it but this time, you stayed well away from the open back door. When I came home, I went outside on that stairwell to collect the two bowls. It was raining hard. The food and water had been left untouched.

We didn't hear again the cries of that cat, but then your cries started shortly after. I thought you were annoyed with something Boojie, I didn't know you were getting sick again. I thought that whatever it was, you'd pull through it. But you didn't. You died. And now I wonder if that tabby had anything to do with it or maybe it was just a coincidence? I know that most folks don't believe in some of the more unscientific, metaphysical, spiritual theories out there about human and nonhuman animal souls, but something about the timing and replication of that tabby's cries (and possible illness) manifesting in you gave me a sense that something other-worldly had taken place between you and the tabby. I don't know what it was Boojie, and I know people will call me crazy for even mentioning such a far-fetched notion. Whatever people may think, it was an uncanny occurrence, and however I may interpret it all, the mystery and tragedy of your death will haunt me for life.

I don't know where you are now, Boojie, but I miss you so much. I see all of the pics of you I've posted on Instagram and Facebook, and the pics still in my phone, and the pics I've framed. Lalu every now and then will look for you but I think she now knows that you're gone. I know your relationship with her wasn't easy because Lalu is not as young as you were. Still, I am so grateful for the love and care you gave to her. She became so active when you were around. I had never seen her run that way before around the house to chase after you. She never did that before you came. Now she's back to being inactive and I'm trying to coax her to do what you did in the stairwell and get some exercise. She greets me at the door now too the way you did, but she still walks over after the door's been opened unlike you, who used to literally sit nead the edge of the frame waiting for the door to open so you could bounce out and sniff me and my bags. Sometimes I'd have treats inside for you and Lalu.

I think I have a long way to go before I can reconcile with your loss. I think many times, we humans adopt fur babies like you and Lalu for our own benefit, what we like to call "pet therapy", but not giving much consideration to the actual responsibility of caring for another living being. I think cats - more so than dogs - remain a great mystery to many of us, which includes knowledge of their mental, physical, and emotional health needs and risks. To this day, there is no conclusive explanation for the condition that took your life. Was it diet? Was it stress? Was it due to a pre-existing condition that developed while you were a kitten? Was it environmental toxins? Nobody has hit the nail on the head, and said, "A-ha, I've found the definitive cause!" Vets can only recommend tests to monitor the condition and ensure that it doesn't get out of hand, and that's why, Boojie, I should have fostered a much stronger relationship with your vet and got all the answers I needed to accommodate for your recovery and care.

I don't believe that our much-loved deceased pet companions forgive us if we had failed to act quickly to save their lives. I think that in order for there to be forgiveness, we as former guardians of the ones we lost unnecessarily need to take accountability. Boojie, I want so badly to adopt another cat like you so I can do better this time, but I know that bringing in another cat into this household and with the limited resources I have is not the way to fix things and to heal. So, this is what I believe is what I should do as a way of taking accountability and a way of honouring your life and your death:

• Take care of Lalu while I still have her here by giving her the best food, by giving her a stimulating environment so she can have some active playtime, by grooming her when she wants it, by scratching her head when she comes to me and asks with her eyes, by fostering a strong relationship with her vet (might have to take her to a new vet) and ensure that I get all the answers I need to know how to look out for any potential signs of illness that require immediate veterinary treatment - and in order for me to do this right, I'd have to keep building Lalu's health/medical funds because as Lalu gets older, she's going to need more veterinary monitoring and care. 
• Donate to charities such as Toronto Cat Rescue, the Ontario SPCA, and other pet adoption agencies and shelters. 
• Celebrate your birthday every year on Aug. 7th. You would have been 5 this year. 
• Remember the anniversary of your passing every year on Jan. 28th. 
• Cherish all the wonderful memories I have of you in pictures by creating an album of your life or maybe also in the form of a book of stories about you, my sweet fur baby. I can also use the photos of you that your former guardians sent to me of you as a kitten. 
• Strengthen the bonds of friendship with your former guardians. Boojie, I want you to know how much they love and miss you right now, and how much they wish things could have been different. They've both given me a lot of support since your death and we will all together honour your cremains in a special ceremony that will hopefully free your spirit so you can go on to the next life or to another world and share your glee with others.
• Build my resources in this life, seek out the career I want in Law, and start building towards that animal sanctuary dream I have where I will learn how to really take care of cats, dogs, cows, sheep, hens, roosters, baby chicks, pigs and their piglets, horses, and other rescued animals. I don't know whether I'll live to see all of this happen. If I don't, then I'll make sure to include in my Will to donate a certain amount of the funds I've left behind to animal sanctuaries and pet adoption agencies, all in your memory, and probably also Lalu's if she too doesn't outlive me. 

I will end this now, Boojie, with a du'a for you, my little Boojie-Boo-Boo:

May you never have to fear that you are at risk of harm in whatever form your spirit accepts. 

May the next journey give you, your spirit, and your body all the strength to overcome any storm, 

But may you have the affirmation in knowing that you are perfectly safe. 

May you be completely free from the pain and suffering of your former blocked body. 

May you feel the water replenish your spirit, nourish and revive you.

May you no longer be trapped on earth in the life you had.

May you be free from all karmic life cycles that bring you suffering. 

May you be experiencing great Liberation now as you explore and choose the next life you want.

May you guide those of us who loved you to do better for all animals. 

May you someday forgive those of us who loved you when you can feel our transformation as we work towards creating a more harmonious life with the furry friends we welcome into our homes.

May you always know that the Love I feel for you is safe and sound in a heart that will never stop beating until and unless I've fulfilled the promises I've made to you above. 

May the stars light up your path and bring you to a new destination, a new forever home. 

But may you also enjoy the journey to that place while you can. 

And may you have other feline friends to guide you on the way and protect you.

I'm cheering you on, Boojie! 

I will always love you, my fur baby Boojie. I will always...love you. 

Fare thee well, sweet angel, you are free at last. 

💖

One of Boojie's favourite places:
the building's stairwell. He would walk down
and then look up to see if I were still there
looking out for him while he explored.