The Greeks said not to drink unwatered wine, for it would lead to madness. I'm snorking down the Gallo Paisano with no care for Homeric safety regulations.
Mostly it's because we're still on death-watch for Hector. I have a million things to do, and can only circle uselessly around them. Or watch Hector to see if he will even eat a smidgen of food. Or to see if he wants me to put on his green leash and let him all rickety pull me around the yard. The other night he did it in the dark, three times through the working wood-pile. No doubt to lose me so he could go die under the house. I'm sorry, but it's the only thing I'm not letting him do. Mr. Weird is now Mr. Flat-ass Stubborn. Anyway, after two and a half months, all the grief of my life -- humans as well as animal, including a terrible loss and a missed opportunity recently -- is circling my head and turning me into a vegetable (this is drunk writing, so I'm not taking responsibility for any of it).
Ran into a very dear friend on the beach today, who said that their household fell apart as their old dog died. So I don't feel so lost and stupid about it now.
She had smoked rabbit. We swapped for our smoked salmon. Then we spent the evening blathering and laughing. She's one of the few people up here on my intellectual level, and her daughter is a living spark. I, of course, did not recognize the kid. How am I supposed to recognize someone I could once pick up and carry and who can now look me in the eye? Some kid is going to figure out that adults -- especially we old farts -- cannot recognize them before and after the growth spurt and scam us to dead.
Next step, if I can just get anything done: build the basis for the bee-hives. I love honey. The 3 hens are laying what comes to an egg a day. The seeds just came in the mail. With honey, eggs and veggies and the occasional fish, we'll have more than enough to eat and swap.
I may have talked myself into milking the old farmer's cows for him. As he said, his 80 + years hands can't do it any more, and he's had to let the cows dry up. If I do, it's half the milk, and I don't care how that makes me sound. CHEESE. And yogurt. Which I'll share with him, too. Fuck, I'm becoming a farmer.
And another shot of the young whale on the beach the other day. Note how close to the shore. It shelves off very abruptly.
2 comments:
I experience a similar time with my old cat Gribi.
It is so damn painful to watch a member of the family slowly go away, despite of all the care we give.
Watching your cats fade strips you back to basics. I drank crazy and mixed when my little black-and-white went from a four-footed rocket to a skinny invalid over the course of six weeks with lymphatic cancer. And I had to simply go numb to get my Apricat through his final days last October and I'm only starting to feel blood in my veins again. I'm not sure which way of dealing has anything to recommend it.
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