The walls are closing in

I don't think, phsychologically, I can handle much more. Grandma isn't Grandma anymore. After she was put into the hospital and we thought she was dying, she recovered enough to be put in a nursing home. Oh, there's a fancy -name- for said nursing home. Skills. Rehab. What have you. She was put in yesterday morning, we went to see you yesterday afternoon and she didn't even know who I was, even when I asked her.

"Grandma, do you know who I am?"

She shook her head.

"It's Kim! Do you know Kim?"

Again, she shook her head.

Her eyes were empty.. confused.

The elderly there were like prisoners of their age.

I felt the presence of death there. It was all encompassing, and I couldn't bare it.

God help me, I feel like the world is sinking under my feet, everything seems to want to go wrong. Mercy Died, Heathern's getting old, my horses need their teeth floated and feet done, but I don't have the funds. I think we're not going to get the Montgomery job that we're badly in need of, things around the house seem to want to break all at the same time, I can't shake the feeling of abandoment. Momma let it slip to her sister, who kept saying, "I thought Kim was coming up from Alabama to come stay with Grandma!" And Momma told her, "Kim has panic attacks and can't handle staying at the hospital." To which, I know that is going to ride my ass via my aunt's bloody husband, who thought it was cute to mock me for saying I was a picky eater. YEAH, I'M FAT, ASSHOLE, but at least I'm not callus and cruel! I don't think I'm going to be able to go back to Alabama, a place that was a huge help for curing this crippling depression and panic attacks.

*Holds head* God help me, please! I can't take anymore!

My Dream Home

I love you, Little Mercy

This pic, taken on 4-29-06, was the next to the last picture I had ever taken of the Princess. I would have shown the last one, but it was a bit blurry.

When she came into my life, she was an hour away from death. My dearest Sister Una, and her husband, Shane, had come down to visit me here at the beginning of July of last year. I had taken them to Cedar Forest so Una could shoot some nature shots. We had been sitting at the campground/picnic area of the park, near the restrooms. When it was time to leave, I lead the way and I praise God that I turned around to speak to Una, because movement caught my attention. A small movement of white and I thought it was wildlife and that it was close enough for Una to get a pic of. I moved close to it, only to discover it was a very tiny kitten crammed down against a decaying log for protection.

It was hot that day, so very hot. This baby had been without food and water for who knows how long. She had a wound on her neck and bugs climbed all over her, they way they do when they know something is almost dead. Her poor little eyes were practically gummed shut with pus, but I lifted her up and carried her to the bathroom. I can still see those turn of events right as I type this, as if it just happened this morning. I cleaned her face and cleaned her eyes out, then I turned on the water, holding her against my body as the water poured into my hands and I let her drink, she was so thirsty.

Shane held her a lot on the way back to the house, and I had hopes that they would consider taking her home. They didn't, but she was already bonded to my heart. I got a kitten nursing bottle and human baby food, feeding her the baby food with a spoon and letting her drink the water out of the bottle.

She was my little Princess. She loved to ride back and forth to Alabama in my arms, and when she would settle in for a good nap, she would slid her right arm around against the left side of my neck and sleep.

She was blind in her left eye and she was weak in her left front paw. She didn't have much sensation in her left side, we think it was due to heat stroke when she was waiting to be rescued. She always circled to the right, not enough to empeed her, but to compensate for the loss of sight in her left eye. She played with the best of the cats.

She was ripped from me last night, so very brutally, but a pack of fucking dogs that are so ungreatful to have a home with food and water. She got off of the porch through the screen that had been pushed loose. (Chose your contractors well, those two that built our screened in porch should be shot) I was spending the night with my Grandmother, who was in the hospital. Grandma isn't doing very well, she hardly knew I was there.

Momma told me this morning that the dogs had killed Mercy. I don't think I've stopped mourning. She had her wrapped up on the porch in her favorite blue towel. Momma's favorite blue towel, that is. I lifted her up and sat on the porch swing where I would often hold her, and wept, because my very soul was splitting in two.


Some may wonder why I would ache so much over a cat. She wasn't just a cat, she was my little Princess. She was my baby. I don't have to explain to anyone why I loved her as deeply as I do, I just loved her.

I named her Mercy, because it was God's Mercy that I had turned around when I did. If I hadn't turned when I did as we were leaving the campground, we would have walked away and she would have perished, a tiny little kitten that could fit into the palm of my hand and have room.

My heart aches for you, Little Princess. I am emotionally humbled. I'm sorry I wasn't there to protect you. I'm sorry I let you down.