Thursday, April 30, 2009

Trouble Finally Arrives

Trouble moved in last night.


I’d spent the past several weeks since moving into my apartment wandering around, not speaking for hours at a time, and trying to figure out just how to live alone. It’s amazing at the number of people who were around when I was living in chaos, but now that I’ve simplified my life, they all seem to have other things to do. Maybe it’s just Spring. Maybe it’s the fear that married people seem to develop when one of their friends divorces. Whatever it is, the result is that too many of my evenings are spent alone. That’s why I got television after not having one for over two years. I’m still trying to find something decent to watch though.


But, I’d had enough of being alone with my thoughts at night. I’d had enough of not having someone to welcome me home, and I’d definitely had enough of the quiet. I was planning on waiting until after I returned from Shibaricon to move him in with me, but that’s still weeks away, and I just couldn’t take anymore of the emptiness. But Sir, seeing how unhappy I was becoming without my cat, convinced me that it was better that Trouble move in with me sooner rather than later. I’ll worry about finding someone to take care of him while I’m gone later.


I had been missing him enormously. I missed the way he’d curl up in my lap, letting me stroke his fabulously soft black fur. He enjoyed the attention, while I liked just losing myself in the simple act of stroking him. I missed the way we could just sit together, me enjoying his purrs, while he enjoyed the warmth of my hands. Soothing each other is something we developed in reaction to the chaos at the ex’s house. A house filled with people, other pets, and a three year old who liked to pull tails.

I missed the way he’d meet me at the door when I came home from work. He’d race me into the kitchen, looking innocently at the water dish he’d tipped over sometime during the day while rubbing against my leg waiting for his dinner.

I’d missed his adorable little chirps, mewls, and yips when playing with his catnip mouse. And I’d missed the way he always seemed to find the ends of my ribbon rolls and unwound them. I’d even missed the fur that always seemed to be all over my clothes.

Most of all I missed not being alone.

I’d anticipated a happy reunion. It’s been almost a month since I’ve spent more than just a few minutes with him.


I went to the store and bought him some new things. New toys, food, and a new litter box. I figured it was his first time living alone too, and he deserved some new stuff to make him feel better. I took some of his old stuff- his blanket, his bed, and hoped that he’d remember me enough that all the rest of the stuff wouldn’t matter so much. I used my own feelings about all of the things I’d had to leave behind as a benchmark for him. But mostly, I’d hoped he’d be glad to see me.

I picked him up when I got to the ex’s house. He fought me getting into his cage. I could understand that one because the only time he’d ever gotten into that cage, usually he’d had some probe stuck up his ass, or some vet tech sticking him with needles. His apprehension was understandable, and I figured I could overlook the scratch that he gave me- this time.

He cried all the way home. I know this is typical for moving cats. They don’t travel very well and get flummoxed at changes. Sounds like a lot of people I know. Being removed from all that you’ve ever known is traumatic for the best of us. But for a cat whose never known but one home filled with chaos and tension....well, I kind of thought he’d enjoy the quiet too. But I understood how he felt. The first trip to that apartment while moving my stuff, I kind of felt like crying too. But familiarity and habit aren’t substitutes for happiness.

When I got him into the house, I opened his cage and he literally bolted out of it. He ran about three steps (which means about two feet in cat measurements) and then stopped short and opened his eyes wider than I’d ever seen. And he ran straight back into the cage. I knew how he felt. I felt something quite the same the first night in that apartment. Feeling like I’d come out of my cage, fearing the unknown, and wanting to run straight back into it. But, if I could overcome that feeling, I figured he could as well.

So, I thought I’d just leave the door to the cage open and go out to the car for the rest of the stuff. When I got back, the cage was empty. Good sign I thought! I thought wrong.

I went looking for him. Now, it’s not a very big apartment and not very many places to hide. So, after looking under the couch and chair, I checked under my bed. At first, I didn’t see him. He IS a black cat after all, and sometimes hard to see when its dark. I turned on the light to check again, and still couldn’t find him. I had a second of unrealistic panic when I thought that somehow he’d gotten loose when I went out to the car, but I’m so careful with shutting the doors that I just knew that couldn’t have happened. I looked under the bed again and noticed the boxspring had a tear in the lining on the underside. And the tear was right next to a suspicious looking bulge.

I wedged myself under the bed and felt Trouble shaking inside the box spring. When I called his name, he chirped at me, but still wouldn’t come out. I spent a while just stroking him through the material, talking to him, and trying to make him feel better. Or at least make me feel better.

I decided to leave him to his perplexity and make myself dinner. I talked to him while I was doing it, letting him know I was there. But he still didn’t come out. I made his favorite food figuring that he’d want to share it with me, but still he didn’t come out. I ate alone. Again.

About an hour later, I went back to try to coax him out. I moved his food dish to the edge of the bed on the floor, hoping he’d be hungry by now. And was rewarded with the bulge moving toward the food. He hopped out from the box spring and nuzzled his head into my hand. He turned over on his back and let me rub his tummy. This was something that I understood. When he’s stressed, he likes to have his tummy rubbed. He started purring. He nibbled on a few bites of food and then went back inside the hole he’d made for himself. I understood. I sometimes feel like doing that myself.

I went out into the living room and started chatting with friends on the internet while watching yet another television show that I’m not altogether sure I’ll like. But I’ll give anything a shot right now to fill up all those empty hours.

About half way through some dancing show, I noticed movement. Around the corner, I saw a little black head peak out. Then a body, followed by a tail. Trouble finally came out of the hole. He started sniffing around, found his bed, the litter box, and his food bowls. He ignored his toys in favor of sitting by the screen door. He slinked and slithered around the edges of the apartment, and finally, came over and rubbed against my leg. I reached down and said hello and was rewarded with a chirp. I smiled and thought- well, things aren’t so bad after all- it didn’t take him very long.


And then I frowned when he ran straight back for the bed.

Rather than cater to his whims, I decided he’d have to figure out things out for himself. I did my dishes, got ready for work the next day, and crawled dejectedly into bed. I said goodnight to him, patted the bulge, and felt like crap for doing this to him- removing him from his comfortable home, simply in my selfish need. I was considering taking him back to the ex’s the next day.


Sometime during the night, he’d come out of his hole and started wandering around the house. The reason I know he did this, was because he started yowling and crying. He’s never had more than a little kitten voice his whole life and now, suddenly, he found his big-boy angry voice. I know how he feels. I’d had similar feelings lately.

He couldn’t settle down, he skittered all over the place, and finally he jumped on the bed with me. He pounced, he paced, and still he bitched. I cuddled with him, I talked to him, and I got out of bed to open the screen door. He followed me around like a puppy. But when I went back to bed, instead of crawling in beside me, so that we could comfort each other, he went back into the hole under the bed.


I woke up this morning with an empty bed, and with Trouble still in his hole. He did come out for a while when I was brushing my teeth and he jumped into the tub and rolled around in the water left over from my shower. He’s wandering around like he doesn’t know what to do with himself. I understand how he feels. I’ve felt like that for the past few weeks myself. Trying to figure out how to do this. But, I do have a wonderful boyfriend to help me through it and Trouble has me to help him.


And, I do think that we’ll both be happier once we find our way out of our respective hiding places

Sunday, April 12, 2009

New Apartment

I moved into my first apartment today.

I don't like it. It's lonely, I have no television, internet, or music. Sir is away at the moment celebrating the holiday with his family. I sent pictures of my shoe closet, and he sent me pictures of the happenings in his neck of Texas. I'm lonely. For the first time, I really know what it's like to be alone. And I don't like it.

I thought moving into the apartment was supposed to give me sense of accomplishment, moving forward, a way to finally end the chaos of my life and find out who I was. I found out that I'm not nearly as deep as all that. I did find out though that ice cube trays and toilet paper rolls always seem to be filled to capacity now though.

I was exhausted from moving. I was still unpacking and trying to make sense out of the boxes when I just sat and looked around me. I had a terrible feeling that I was making a huge mistake being on my own and that I probably should have found a roommate. Without Sir there to share this with me, it felt empty.

How do people learn to live alone? Not even Mr. Google could really help me with this one. This is something I have to figure out for myself.

Wednesday, April 1, 2009

Shit Hits the Fan, Part Two

We were in bed, trying to re-connect and trying to find a way to say what we both needed to without the tears. We had started to find our way again when the phone rang. It was The EX.

Now, I’ve never met her and I don’t expect to ever meet her. Someday, I suppose I might have to because of the Boy, but I think it might have to be a long time in the future and only after carefully getting into a proper frame of mind so that I don’t want to hurt her, in that bad way. But just the way Sir talks about her, with that pain in his eyes, tearing apart the wonderful man that he is, leaving him with all that shit- that makes me damned angry.

I had warned Sir that his life was going to get a lot harder now though that she knew he had a girlfriend.

They were arguing about whatever. I chose to go downstairs and find something to give him some privacy. I put my ipod in and cuddled up in his chair with his jacket. I wanted him to see me when he was finished, but I didn’t want to add to his stress by having me see him with her shit. The problem was that this just added to the carryover from the night before. And I decided then that I would just be there for him when he needed me to be. No questions - just to be there to pick up any pieces that she left.

Between her several calls, and the Boy's call because he’d overheard the argument, things were very bad for Sir. He finally fell back asleep and I went to the store. I left him a note because I didn’t want him to think that I’d left. I wanted to make dinner for him to let him know that us together, we were normal. We liked each other and we wanted to be together. I wanted him to know that I wanted him, all of him. And not only the good stuff. He wasn’t very much of a daddy today, but he needed me to be a big girl for him instead. I can do that too. But the hurt in his eyes. I wish I could help him with that.

We needed each other. We spent some more time together with him fisting me again. He needed to feel empowered again and that’s a good way to do that. I wonder if we’ll ever get to the place where he’s sure enough about me to trust me completely? To let himself go and just be with me and forget everything else but each other? He needed to get himself back and I became the object of his need. All of the anger and hurt he needed to channel through me. And it felt wonderful.

After dinner, he had a meeting. He’d asked me to go, but I just told him that I thought he should go alone. I would still be there when he got back and not to worry, but I thought he should have some time without feeling like he had to worry about me. I think he would have liked for me to go, but he didn’t push. And, truthfully- he was right. I needed some time to myself too. I gave him a hug, and asked what time he’d be back.

I spent some time online- I tweeted. I didn’t know what I was going to say until it came out. But he saw it. I hope he smiled. I spent some time thanking Dana, and then I thought about emails. I always look forward to our chats, we fall in love every time we do that. I wanted to leave him one. He found it. I hope he smiled then too.
I did the dishes, took a shower, packed my stuff up, got dressed, brought in flowers, ate some chips, and left him a note. It may not always be roses and fireworks darling- but with you- it always is. I told him that I was upstairs waiting for him, but I fell asleep. When he came home. He was happy. He saw the flowers, read the note, saw the email and tweet and he knew that I did love him and that I was there for him. And I always will be my love. For as long as you want me, my love. I will be there and things will be alright. They must, because you’ve left me with nothing. No way to cope with things if they aren’t. You’ve become everything important to me.
And I’ve trusted you. I wonder sometimes if you really do want that responsibility. That wonder is the only thing that prevents me from being completely yours. I’m 98% there now, well- 96% when I’ve been drinking.

We talked some more about things and he told me that he felt good at the party- doing those things that he’d never done at a party with anyone. I told him that I never had either. And, I also told him that I’d never actually spent the entire night with someone. I never stayed. I forgot though and mentioned David. He doesn’t know about David. But he doesn’t need anymore reminders that I’ve had a life filled with stuff. He’s all I want now. And we’re good together. And we are that you know? Two sick fucks, each with our own demons, and able to understand each other because of them.
And each of us loving the other in spite of ourselves.