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I spent the last 20 years with a pair of cats--brother and sister. They moved with me cross country at least twice, maybe more. We got them when they were kittens. They were adorable and chased each other around the apt. They slept in our bed every night. When they were too little to get in it on the 2nd night after they were little rescued by my husband from a box in a field, we picked them up and cuddled them.
When I was writing my dissertation, they would lay on my legs and lap--any flattish surface on my body. They have been my constant companions for two decades. In those years, we rescued other cats. One was abandoned by a river. It was awful. She was the kindest, sweetest girl. She died of blood cancer too soon. She was so mellow and was the boy's gf. They'd cuddle and spoon. She loved him.
Then I rescued a feral FIV+ cat. It took months to domesticate him but once he was, it was pure love all the time. He was one of the greatest loves of my life--top 3 for sure. He just radiated love and joy and kindness.
These three cats were my rocks; they quite literally anchored me through every one of life's storm. My struggles to finish my diss, my new job, my many moves. My good and bad times. There was always a cat on me when I was home, which was a lot. I had a snuggler, and all three had to be on it when I was on it. A well-named piece of furniture.
I lost my beloved little torti girl and my FIV+ boy 5 weeks apart at the end of winter. 6 months later--today--I think the last of the 3 is losing his battle with nasal cancer. I think it hurts him to eat now. All 3 in 6 months is so brutal. I can barely function. I cry every day. I miss the two so desperately and now the last one is triggering the pain of losing the others. They were part of this entire life that is now over, too. I regret every second I took them for granted, didn't spend time with them, got mad at them for just being cats, not doing more to extend their lives (though 15 for an FIV cat and 20 for normal cats is pretty good).
I have no real family, except for my husband. My cats were my best friends. I feel like my sadness is an ocean and the waves crash in on me every day. They brought me so much love and joy and happiness and friendship. When all the stupid people came and left, they stayed with me. Having to put down the last of the trio is bringing it all back up again. I haven't gone to the gym bc I am afraid I am just going to start sobbing. Last time I was there, they played the song my cat was named for and I just wept in the sauna. Yoga also makes me cry (they would climb on my back when I did yoga at home). So much that was good about my life I associate with them and it's all gone. And I have watch another die.
I like it, but she spelled “choked” wrong.
Also, it's strangulation instead of choking! I didn't know this before but choking only refers to something blocking the airway from inside. Strangulation is outside pressure.
I know, this has been on my nerves too, but I think it’s just casual language when they mean it in a sexual context, plus, strangulation sounds... purposeful?...
Honestly... at this point, I’d be tempted to rebut people who want to “let women be feminine” by saying something like, “Actually, you’re right. If certain women choose to be maidservants to men, why not let those women lap up all that “sex-positivity” and “feminine power”, while everyone else chooses empowerment via going against the flow? Someone has to do the grunt work of placating men, after all—might as well let the ones who enjoy it do it”.
Pretty inflammatory, but I think it gets the point across.
I dress in a very feminine way, but I rarely catch any flack for it. When I do, it's usually from men and butch lesbians.
It's crazy how much women go to bat for men and the patriarchy.