The Suckitude of Grief and Soggy Toast

It’s been a very ‘interesting’ two weeks-ish. We have Widdercat’s ashes back, (they’re sitting on our altar) and, in the mysterious ways that cats have, although she’s not physically with us anymore, (unless you count the ashes, which is interestingly morbid) the big hole she left in our lives is lessened.

On the other hand, grief sucks. It turns me inside out, gives me headaches when I have big sobbing crys. I feel as though I’m the only one in the entire cosmos who’s feeling this bad. (seriously, the rest of the world ought not to be allowed to just continue turning and have the temerity to look exactly the same when I do eventually surface)

On occasions, it’s also funny.

I don’t know if the ‘baby brain’ of pregnant women and new mothers is a myth, but I can personally attest that the ‘grief brain’ is alive and well. Take breakfast the other day.

I had just turned the dishwasher on. It’s one that connected to the kitchen sink hot water tap. I then set about preparing my breakfast of eggs on toast, one of my comfort foods. We’d recently retired our old frying pan and bought a shiny new ceramic one that was just for the frying of eggs. It takes some time getting used to the whims of new appliances, and after a few not-so-dazzling efforts on previous mornings I was determined this time my eggs would be perfect.

The scene is set. The play begins …

I plop the bread (Mrs Widder’s 1-day-old bread, ‘cos it’s a mortal crime to toast fresh bread the day it’s baked) into the toaster and prepare my plate. Usually I run a bit of hot water over it to warm it up, (there’s nothing worse that your eggs-n-toast cooling too fast on a cold plate) but of course the hot water tap is currently occupied.

There is still some hot water in the kettle from my tea so I pour a bit onto my plate and set it to one side while I cook my eggs in our shiny new frying pan. I sense that this time they’re going to be perfect, and I’m right.

The toast pops up … I throw it on the breadboard … turn the heat off under my eggs … butter the toast and quickly throw it onto my plate before my eggs get too hard …

… with frying pan and eggflip in hand I turn to deposit the eggs on the toast when I realise …

SOGGY TOAST!

By the time I toast some more bread my perfect eggs are somewhat past their former glory.

:(

I told this story, along with other non-funny stories of my journey through my grief, (they did ask first. I was merely being obliging) to a not-quite-an-acquaintance who then commented with the best of intentions that they didn’t really get why I was so upset, after all she was just a cat.

This person is still alive only because it was a public place and I couldn’t immediately think of anywhere to hide the body.

I’m willing to bet if they had an animal in their lives at all, they’d consider themselves to be ‘owners’ of a ‘pet’ rather than sharing their life with companion of a different species.

However, the incident made me realise what a wonderful genre Speculative Fiction (SF, Fantasy, Paranormal, etc) is, and how glad I am it’s my genre of choice for the writing and reading of. I think that more than any other genre, it has raised the awareness of other species as being more than just ‘pets’.

***

In among all of the turmoil of these last weeks we did have a peek at our dandelion wine. I’ll tell you all about that in my next post.

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21 comments on “The Suckitude of Grief and Soggy Toast

  1. K. Caffee says:

    She may no longer be with you in the fur, but it sounds as if she remains behind in spirit to help you through this tough time. Causing you to forget about the water on the plate – how like a feline. Glad you have remembered how to smile again. It will get easier as time provides the proper light for the memories of your friend to shine bright.

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  2. catdownunder says:

    She will always be there you know – not just the fluff but the memories! But furry hug from me.

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  3. krisalex333 says:

    I know of the hole their loss leaves in your soul. It hurts like hell. I would have helped to dismember and get rid of the body parts.
    Take good care.

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  4. Kana Tyler says:

    “JUST a cat”?! Shame on that inhuman person. Cats ARE people–just differently packaged! You’re in my thoughts–and I’m very sorry (inadequate as those words are)… Hugs from afar! :)

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  5. Erin says:

    {{hug}}

    Would anyone notice the body if it went into Widder Lake just before the winter freeze?

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  6. M.E. Garber says:

    People like that give animals a very good reputation, and people like us bad ones. So sorry for your loss.

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  7. I enjoyed your tale of the eggs and toast. I’ve never thought of preheating plates before serving warm dishes. I have a memory of being at someone’s house and her taking her plates out of the oven. White ceramic plates with green trim. Funny how that sticks.

    Yeah, people don’t understand about grieving for animals we live with until they’ve experienced it themselves. We still miss our Cu’Pie Baby bird who died 7 years ago.

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    • Widdershins says:

      The oven is usually my go-to warming place too … except when it’s an all-cooktop meal. Lesson learned though. I doubt I’ll ever use a warm plate again without first checking to see it it’s dry. :)

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  8. jannatwrites says:

    Just a cat? Wow, I admire your restraint. (I have a chainsaw I can lend you, haha :) )

    I had to chuckle at your breakfast story – most meals I cook end up ‘off’ like that. At some point, it seems like everything will come together nicely, but it just doesn’t happen for me!

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    • Widdershins says:

      Yep. Sometimes you just have to scrape the soggy mess into the compost bucket and start all over again … all lethal implements of mass deconstruction welcome! :)

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  9. londonmabel says:

    I’m so sorry I missed this! My computer’s on the fritz. I am sooo sorry–I’ve lost three cats in my time and each time was horrible. So sad, so painful, such a big hole. (Though Evil Minion and Haley have filled it in their own special hellish way.) I will send you guys some prayerly vibes of healing.

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  10. londonmabel says:

    When you’re ready, could we get some more widdercat photos? If you feel able.

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