Scorched Earth

I've written before about the neighbor that likes to burn things in his firepit using lots and lots of gasoline.  Tuesday he was back, and must have really missed his firepit, because he spent the day ripping out bird houses and burning them, after dousing them with gas.  Then he took down a lattice fence that hid his yard tools from sight and threw that in too.  Now that the fire was going swell, he threw in his yard tools, including two gas-powered weed eaters!  I'm pretty sure I saw some metal chairs on the heap as well.

After the bonfire cooled down the next morning, a large patch of grass around the firepit was gone, and even more of it has been scorched and won't come back.  The old man shoveled the contents of the firepit into 2 trash bags and threw them away.

I have a suspicion that this man is getting ready to leave for good.  He pulled up concrete stepping stones (I was afraid they were going into the fire too), and I saw him pack some lawn games into the trunk of his car. 

I didn't see his wife, but rarely ever do.  I heard two years ago that she was suffering from Alzheimer's or dementia (they must be close to 80).  They live in Minneapolis (about 3 1/2 hour drive from here), but used to spend most of the summer in their camper. 

They've build a screened in porch the whole length of the camper, and painted it in Florida pastels.  The old man used to get up early every day and build things, like the bird houses that he so recently burned.  Their yard is full of gnomes and signs, and bird houses, and owl statues and other things he's made.  I've never been in their camper, but their porch has windchimes hanging from every possible spot.

I imagine that the old man is dismantling their summer life bit by bit, destroying anything that he can't carry home in his sedan car.  Just like losing someone you love, leaving nothing but scorched earth behind.

Just When You Think It's Over and Done With

About 10 days ago I had to say goodbye to my cat Scottie Sunshine.  A gorgeous long-haired tuxedo cat, Scottie would trot after me everywhere with his tail held high.  I could feel his happy grin with that tail, and knew he was playing with me when he'd walk in front of me and suddenly stop dead in his tracks. 

But for the last few months, Scottie was losing weight and coughing a lot.  I knew something was wrong, and 10 days ago Scottie started breathing funny, wheezing and panting.  Being Sunday, I took him to a clinic open every day, 24 hours a day.  $700 worth of x-rays and blood work later, I found that he had cancer all throughout his body, and the top of his mouth was being eaten away by the evil stuff. 

The poor vet was young, and when I asked her through my tears if it was time, she paused and said, "maybe you could take him home tonight and bring him back tomorrow".  I knew she was telling me there was no hope, and there was no way I was going to put Scottie through this stress again.  He had already buried his claw in the back of the vet tech's hand and had to be put to sleep just to get his blood.

I was led into a back room, where Scottie was asleep with a gas mask over his nose and an IV in his paw.  I told him he was a good cat and that I loved him.  I kissed his head and with my hand on his side, the doctor administered the fatal dosage.  He breathed one more time, and I felt him go. 

I felt such relief when he left - so much so I was able to tell the doctor about his life and the other cats that live with me.  I signed the papers releasing his body, paid the bill, and left with an empty cat carrier.

Since then I've done okay - grief comes in waves, and sometimes I wouldn't know when it would hit. 

I drove to my Summer Palace and arrived yesterday afternoon.  Today, I collected my mail, and there was a letter from Faithful Friends, a local pet cemetery and crematory.  They offered their sincere condolences, and enclosed his death certificate, along with two pamphlets on how to deal with the death of a family pet.  That wave of grief came crashing down on me again, and I have yet to make it past the first sentence of the first pamphlet.  But I will read them, and I'm so grateful that Scottie was taken care of by such caring people.