Before the great fall of '06, when I had cold feet, all I had to do was crawl in bed, stick 'em on Husband's back and they got warm pretty fast. Of course, his screaming was annoying, but I suppose there's a price you pay for everything.
Now my feet are almost never warm. I have a floor foot warmer for the studio, I have a bag full of horse corn that I heat up in the microwave at night. Then I put it between covers, under a pillow, cover it up more, and put a pillow on top of that in order to hold the heat in all night. Most the time this will, eventually, get my poor tootsies toasty.
As anyone who knows me at all knows, I love, and I mean love snow. In fact I love a lot that goes with cold weather, excluding my terrifyingly cold feet.
You think I'm obsessed with my paws? Yes, yes I am. You try living with feeling like you are standing in ice cold water all the time. It's something that's hard not to think about.
And another thing. You probably think I've not blogged in like, forever. You'd be wrong. I blog every day, sometimes twice. I have failed to write them down, however.
Last year was a very hard year for me. Lost the ability to walk for a while. Almost died with e-coli in my bloodstream caused by a UTI that had gone unnoticed for sometime due to all the pain I was having which was causing my leg to stop working. So, I had a few things on my mind.
And this year? Need I say more?
Now, I can't promise how often I'll continue to blog. I'm trying to write another novel, so when I sit down for a few minutes, I try to concentrate on that. But maybe I'll blog more often that I've been at.
Last week I had a birthday. And it snowed all day on my birthday, too. Now, if you don't know me, you don't understand what a big deal this is. I have a friend who says my love for snow is an affliction. I was waxing poetic about past snows and Husband called me a "snow savant". The next day it snowed a lot, we got five inches at my house. People were sending me messages like crazy about how I got my birthday wish. I told them most my birthday wishes were granted. 1. Snow 2. A fire in the fireplace all day 3. Maxwell House coffee instead of the organic mess Husband makes and 4. A million dollars. Still waiting on that last one. But it was a good day anyway. I remember many things about special snow times. My daddy dragging me out of my warm bed and carrying me to the door, pulling back the curtain and showing me a winter wonderland. I couldn't have been more than 3 at the time. My grandmother calling me early morning every time it snowed to tell me, and to hurry and come on so we could make snow cream. I think of her every single snow. Trying to get up the hill to my friend's house to play in the snow and not able to get enough traction to do so.
Snowball fights and many, many snowmen. I remember we had a huge snow when I was fifteen or sixteen. All the neighborhood teen boys and young men got together and built a giant snowman in the churchyard. It was as tall as the second story windows. As you can imagine, it made the paper. The love of snow never left me growing up, even though it was scarier sometimes. After Husband and I built this house, getting home before it was too late was of utmost importance. Sometimes we made it "too late" and had to do all sorts of things to get to our house. The road getting here is straight up. He would gun the car and we would careen up the mountain, praying no one would decide to come down it. Most the time we made it - after the second or third try.
Of course, the biggest snow I ever encountered was the blizzard of '93. Since there had never been a recorded blizzard in the North Georgia Mountains, it's no wonder. Daughter was not three years old yet, and she was sick on top of that. But the doctor had said he'd heard a really bad storm was coming up, she he gave her an antibiotic shot, and we rushed to the drugstore to get the medications fill. It was snowing by that time.
The middle of the night winds were harrowing. It snowed so hard we couldn't see past the windows. I'd never experienced thunder and lightning during a snowstorm, either. By morning our electricity was history and it dropped to fifty degrees inside our house quickly. At that time our house was all electric (that got remedied shortly afterwards!) It dropped down to below freezing in the house before our power was restored.
Thank God, our neighbors, who visited occasionally from Florida, were here. They called and asked did we have heat. They had a wood burning furnace in their basement and told us to get there as soon as we could.
There are a lot of God stories about the blizzard, and one involves a snowsuit and snow boots we were able to dress Daughter in. A three minute walk took twenty as we struggled against the snow and howling wind. Our two boxers went ahead of us, sort of plowing a path for us. We stayed at their house five days, virtual strangers. And we had a sick toddler. Bless 'em. Finally, my brother's four wheel drive was able to get us to Mother's where we stayed until our electricity was restored, some days later. I think we had either 24 or 27 inches of snow. I remember the day after it was ten degrees, but the wind had stilled. The storm was over!
For some years we had very little snow, then in 2014 we had many. Last winter was a bummer, with one or two very light dustings and one scary icy morning. For those of you who aren't fans of snow, I guess that was good, but for me, not so much. Birthdays that stand out: My sixth. It was raining and my next door neighbor got me a child's size umbrella, which I'd never seen before. My seventh. I was in first grade and my teacher's birthday was the same as mine, so Mother brought cupcakes to the class. My ninth. Mother let me have a real party and I cleaned like crazy. I remember we played pin the tail on the donkey, and ring toss on Bullwinkle's antlers. My sixteenth. Mother cooked whatever I wanted and let me invite my boyfriend for supper. My twenty-first. I cried because I was now officially an adult. My 27th because I got to see the Monkees in concert - well, Mickey, Davey, Peter and Mickey's sister. Close enough. My 40th. My then sister-in-law went to a huge amount of trouble and put together an elaborate album of my life. And this year, because it was just a few days ago. Ha! Don't remember many years when snow and birthdays collided, but I'm always grateful when they do!
I haven't blogged because I couldn't bring myself to talk about it. If you put something down on paper, it makes it more real, and I have not wanted more real. But everyone needs the rest of the story, I guess. If you haven't read the previous blog, "The Funeral that didn't Happen", scroll and read it before you read this one. It's all true, every last word.
On the evening of day six, November 8, of Frost's recovery, he started sneezing.
The next morning you could hear a whistling noise in his nose; he was stuffed up. He had gotten sick like this the year before, as had one of our other cats.
I felt ice around my heart – they had both been very, very sick, but because of being in excellent health otherwise, had pulled through.
Frost had not been in excellent health this year. He had lost more than half his body weight.
We took him to the vet who gave him a vitamin shot and some fluid. He was having a hard time eating dry food, so we fed him wet food with gravy, which he loved.
He held his own, but couldn’t seem to get well again. He slept a lot, mostly wanting in Husband’s lap. He’d come downstairs with us in the morning and go up at night to sleep between Husband and me.
But he kept getting weaker, sleeping more. Then one night, instead of trying to jump on the bed, he got in the dog crate with the dog. Bonnie looked nervous at first, as this had never, ever happened with any cat, but I guess Frost needed the body heat, and Bonnie acquiesced.
He wasn’t in pain, just getting weaker, so we decided to take care of him and let nature take its course.
On December 5, almost a month after his miraculous healing, Frost died.
Not from the horrible diagnosis, but from something more like the common cold.
Frost Ambush Hill was almost thirteen years old.
We buried him with all our other pets who have come and gone during the years. We made sure The Great White Hunter had his frog tucked beside him.
We cried. I'm crying right now as I write this.
No more racing to get in the coat closest every time the door was opened.
No more jumping on the bed just before the fitted sheet was put on, so he could growl and threaten.
No more rushing to make sure another cat was okay if he heard a yowl from a stepped on tail.
No more jumping on the sink waiting for a drink from the faucet.
No more standing on the sewing machine, using his paw to separate the blinds so he could watch Husband walk the dog, crying piteously the whole time.
No more hearing that "Brrrt, Brrrrt," noise as he laid the frog at our feet or put it at the front door, so Husband could brag on him when Husband came from outside.
No more rescuing the frog from water dishes, wringing him out to dry on the window sill. No more sneaking sweet photos of Frost asleep on or by Husband, content.
No more.
I am still sad, Daughter is incredibly sad, and know I’m pretty clueless about how much Husband misses his buddy, because he keeps it to himself, mostly. But there's something positive here, too. When Frost got so incredibly ill, and he was in such pain, it was like a nightmare. We couldn't bear it, and when we thought they were coming to put him down, I can't describe how wrong it all felt. But this time, his time, it was a peaceful thing. He was with us, he wasn't in pain. He just slowly shut down, on his own time, still eating till the day before he died. Still in Husband's lap - up until just a few minutes before he died, when we let him stretch out on his blanket to be more comfortable. What a blessing it was to keep him for almost a month, to care for him, to love him, to cuddle with him. To make him happy in any way we could.
I'm thankful for that.
If you are not an animal person you may say we need to get over it.
Just a cat, you say?
Well, you obviously never met Frost.
See you soon, buddy. Don't forget to greet me with the frog.
Kathi looks back at the year 2019. Has to lie down. WHEW! I'll say one thing for last year, it was different. In February I suddenly couldn't walk. That is a very scary thing, please don't try it. I was in a wheel chair for more than four months. Thanks to aquatic physical therapy and major medications, I was able to start walking again without surgery. But when I was slap dab in the middle of physical therapy I got sick. Sick like I ain't never been sick before. I had blood sepsis, the e-coli kind and like ta died. After being in the hospital for six days, I got to go home. It was a month before I was able to restart physical therapy, and some of the pain has never left me. Daughter totaled her car in a horrific wreck that pretty much left her unscathed. She'd been out of debt for two weeks. Hello, car payments. Our beloved Frost died. We are still grieving. Christmas was different. Other Brother and his son had the "real" flu, and his son's children had a stomach bug that was nasty, which they lovingly gave to their mother so she could puke all Christmas Eve night. We visited one another (some of us) separately and from a distance. Now Daughter and Husband are sick - sore throats, congestion, lethargy. And I have become an elderberry syrup-aholic. The good: During my physical disruption and illness and afterward, I was shown so much love. I shiver to think about it. Of course, Husband and Daughter were champs and took care of me like they thought I was irreplaceable. So many friends brought me good stuff, food for me and my family, presents I love, and their companionship, which was the best. I know I can't repay them, but I hope they know how much I love them. Daughter wasn't hurt in that wreck, other than a slightly sore neck and fear of driving in that curve again. Her neck is healed, and she's driving that curve a little braver every day. After our cat was given the death sentence but recovered, we were able to have another month with him before he succumbed to another illness. That month was filled with warmth and love. Christmas Eve was met with Daughter and I cooking a big dinner for us and Boyfriend. The works: baked chicken and dressing, sweet potato casserole, green onions, cucumbers, radishes, yeast rolls, deviled eggs, mashed potatoes and green beans. The can of green beans was the very last jar from the very last canning Mother and I did together. It will be our last canning, and we both know it. Made me feel very sad. She's had to give up most of what was her outside life - pound cakes that everyone begged for, the best fried chicken and hush puppies on the planet, making the dressing instead of Daughter and me making it, canning. Notice how all this revolves around food? She still wants you to eat if you come to the house, even if she can't cook it anymore. What do I hope for this new year? No more wheel chair, ever. Better health, less pain. A connected, loving family. No tragedies. I guess the same thing everyone else wishes for. Happy New Year to you all.
