Remembering Martha

 The trip down the ravine in an effort to rescue our cat has had lasting effects. Adrenaline powered the trip down and I don't know that I felt any pain or indication of an injury to myself. I was heart broken on the way back up the ravine. After Martha was no longer breathing the need to get to the top with great speed no longer existed, so I sort of half crawled and clawed my way up.

After securing that Martha would not be accessible to the dogs we went inside and just sat there in shock. I put the food away that was to be supper, neither of us had an appetite and we went to bed. The scene I had witnessed played over and over again in my head and I tried to wrap my mind around it. I wanted a different ending, but could not make it happen.

The next day was not any better. Upon awakening, HeWho loved his big cat announced that he wanted to move. You might recall that this same man swore we would NEVER move again. For him to want to move tells me just how profound this incident was.

No, we are not moving. The days that have followed has revealed more aches and pains than I though possible. My right knee no longer functions properly and I am constantly in pain. Extending it hurts, standing up hurts, walking isn't much better, but sitting with it propped up does no good, either.

The muscles I used have calmed down, but my hands hurt. My pinkie finger on my right hand is swollen and extremely sore. It is swollen, but even if it is broken (and I don't think it is), the bones are not dislocated and it would just require a splint. I can't move it much.I can't make a fist, but I can't make a fist with my left hand either. Arthritis. But if I accidentally bump that finger, the pain is like an electric shock. Mr. BoJangles is drawn to my aching parts like a magnet. Probably just seems that way, I doubt he would intentionally hurt the hand that feeds him.

Typing is a two fingered affair for me. Using the middle finger of my right hand and the pointer finger of my left, I manage to put word to paper. Very slowly. If I fail to comment on your blogs, it is because it hurts. I do read them, as my eyes still work!

Beyond the physical pain, there are so many reminders everywhere. The leaves in the back yard had covered almost everything. I bit the bullet and grabbed a rake. The fenced in part is small, which is a blessing and a curse. It is a quick job to mow or rake, but it needs to be policed for poop every other day. You can't see the poop with all the leaves and manage to find it with the sole of your shoe. For the most part, poop should be left undisturbed until pick up to eliminate the odor!

I raked and picked up and finally got the yard leaf free. In doing so I uncovered one of Martha's toys. Martha was easy to entertain. Like most cats, he enjoyed sitting in boxes, or removing packaging and spreading it everywhere. I bought a cute little round toy with a ball in it that would just roll around, but was impossible to remove. Upon presentation of the toy, he just looked at and pushed it away with his paw. I later saw him playing with it a couple of times, then saw that Bo had taken charge of the toy.

Martha must have given it to him, because it was not were he could have stolen it. Martha used to bring gifts to his dogs. Things like rabbit legs and squirrel entrails and mice. I was not a fan of these gifts and would see them in the yard and get rid of them. Martha and I had many long chats about the meaning of the word "gift".

Martha's water dish on the back porch that he disdained, preferring to drink from the bowl the dogs share or the creek at the bottom of the ravine. He had his own table on the porch that held his food so that the dogs couldn't reach it. Of course that didn't stop him from have a bite or two of the dogs' food as he happened to walk by.

Yesterday, I woke as usual, feeling Bo's whiskers tickle my face as he leaned in to look closely at my eyes to see if there was even a slit of opening. I sat up and joints popping, lifted Eddie down to the floor as Bo jumped off the bed. Toni Louise immediately took over the space I left behind as the two boy dogs and I headed for the door to outside. Bo usually goes out first, while Eddie follows me to the bathroom and makes sure I am okay. Just our routine.

But Bo went into a snarling barking frenzy as he looked out the door while I unlocked it, Eddie joined him and I heard the thump of Toni Louise jumping to the floor and heading our way also barking. I caught a glimpse of white out of the corner of my eye before I opened the door to see that one of the pits that murdered my Martha was on the steps and right outside the door of the porch!

My dogs went crazy trying to get out that door as the pit bull casually walked down the steps and out of our yard. He was filthy with mud caked on his underside. It had rained the night before and I guess the dog was out roaming all night. If I had a gun at hand I would shot him through the screen, but there was no way I would open the door to pursue the dog and risk letting my babies out to be mauled. I had a hammer handy and would have not hesitated to hit that dog's head with as much force as I could muster.

The nerve of that man to continue to let his dogs roam free! Monday can't come soon enough as I will be calling animal control, the sheriff's office and any other agency that might be helpful to me. I want those dogs behind bars! Actually, all I want is for the owner to be a good one and fence his dogs in. I also think he should have to pay a fine and to pay for Martha's cremation. I do not expect any of this to happen, but one can dream.

Martha, the boy cat. I find comfort in the fact that those same eyes looked into mine after he was carried across the creek and still alive. He knew we were there trying to help him.