This plant.

It was the most beautiful plant I’d ever seen.

I got it on a weekend when my parents were up to visit. My cat had been sick, but that day word arrived he was now doing well. I was enjoying my time with my parents and they bought me the plant and it seemed, at last, like a bright spot. I associated the plant with that day.

A week later my cat died. Other things happened. I desperately wanted the plant to live, some kind of memento of a good thing before it all happened. It felt like everything was dying around me. Having the plant sit on my table, drooping and dropping further into death was a strange kind of psychological torture.

“Hey, Julie, here’s a skeleton reminder of a good day you let die!”

I finally emailed my mother, proof that moms are eminently necessary at any age. I explained that the plant died. I apologized because they’d bought it for me and wasted their money. I told her I was very sorry and that I was feeling quite bad about it. I also said it had been such a good day and hinted that I wasn’t getting past this plant dying. Since my mother knows I’m nuts, she emailed back.

You are OK.  It served its purpose and brought beauty into your life and a reminder of a good time together.  Have a great day and I am praying for you. Mom.

“It served its purpose.”

My cat Brutus served his purpose (though I am still not able to put that behind me). This month served its purpose. The plant served its purpose. The pink, fragrant trees by the sidewalk served their purpose, bringing a smile to my face each morning as I walked to work this week but very soon to be done flowering. Nothing lasts forever and, at best, they serve their purpose.

That was absolutely what I needed to hear to stop the cycle of negative thoughts in my head that were strangely wrapped up in some plant that I couldn’t throw in the garbage, but was sitting on my table all but dead. It served its purpose; it was beautiful, still, on the day that news of my cat dying arrived. If it had been an equally-priced bouquet of flowers, it would not have lasted as long as the potted plant did. Yet, why did I think that plant had to exist forever just because it was in a pot? Couldn’t its dying be just that, and not some allegory of my personal failures or experiences over the past weeks?

When you’re feeling emotionally bruised, everything seems to hit hard. Strange.

I have a small pot of double impatiens sitting in a pot in its place. I bought them on sale, on my own, with no particular moment or person or memory being attached to their well-being. Impatiens, I think, is a very apt plant for a person like me who is assigning meaning to everything because I can’t sit and wait for things to play out on their own terms.

I read a lot of horse stories as a girl. One of my favorites — still on my bookshelf — was a book called Can I Get There By Candlelight? which told of a young girl who discovers that the nursery rhyme comes to life on her horse, Candlelight. By riding Candlelight, she goes back in time. She forms a friendship with a girl from another time. She cannot get to her new friend, however, unless she is on her horse.

She can’t go back without Candlelight.

My sister and nephew on Jess.

It’s an amazing story, but for any farm kid who grew up on horses, it didn’t seem so far-fetched. During the summer, away from friends from school and mostly out in the country with siblings as the main entertainment, horses were adventures to someplace else. Our memories and photo albums are filled with horses whose mere mention inspires my sisters and I to start in on “remember that time we….?”, ending with a reckless exploit on horseback that thrills our memory to this day.

After Munchkin, the old family cat, died several years ago, there was only one animal left from my childhood. It was Jess, the horse you see in the photo. She came to us a bit insane and ended up being one of the most amazing, big-hearted, trustworthy horses I’ve ever known. My sister Janet reminisced on the phone tonight about how many people had ridden her, from multiple generations to just about anyone who came to visit us on the farm. Her back has held exponential numbers of kids and adults over the years.

Jess only has a few days left in life.

She’s extremely old now. My sister Janet is going to have her put down, and it is the right decision. She is fading physically.

I think of how, just knowing she was still alive, allowed me some kind of way back to childhood and the memories of growing up on the farm and riding with my sisters.  Everything has changed so much in life, much of it hard and confusing to me. We’ve all gone our separate ways and have different lives. It was nice to know that Jess was still alive, that I could still lay my head against her neck and breath in the smell of hay and horse and just go back to summer days on the farm when life was easier.

It’s best that this happen; this is her time to go. My nephews understand it, my sisters and I understand it, but it doesn’t change how it feels. I know we are all sad.

The candlelight is fading and I can’t go back.

I like cats well enough. I have no scandalous microwave episodes in my background. However, I can’t seem to force myself to write serious written material for cat lovers because I just find it either self-explanatory or completely asinine.

Besides, I already know all that I need to know about photographing a cat. Here is my list, for your reading pleasure:

1. Put sticky stuff on your cat. The cat will hate it, but who cares? It makes for a funny photo and you probably have BandAids around the house, anyway.
2. Remember to dress your cat with style. Cats love to play dress-up. Love it.
3. Keep tuna handy. If you have more than one cat, promote harmony for your photo shoot by dousing one cat with the juice and oil from a tuna can.
4. Don’t shy away from racy photos. If you’re cat will do it, take the picture. You can worry about blackmail and reputation later.
5. Use captions. Provide your viewer with supportive background material.
6. Don’t neglect the holidays! Cats love a chance to celebrate; take photos!
7. Use your cat for political gain. The visual image is powerful; use your cat to promote whatever message you feel best exemplified.

Let me make my own list:

• Ace granules: This is a horse tranquilizer. Doing this wrong might mean the end of your cat, but generally cats don’t like a lot of manhandling particularly when injured, so you might want to slip kitty a few granules. Not sure of the legalities.
• SleepyTime: Sort of like above. I had a friend who used this on her nervous pet. Not sure of the legalities of this, either.
• A sister who is a vet tech whose telephone number you have on speed dial.
• A big towel you never want to use again: Wrap hissing kitty in the towel snugly without cutting off the air supply. You have nine attempts to get the snugness level right before whatever problem your cat has is permanently resolved. Get the cat to a vet. Make sure its head is covered, as well as its claws.
• Bandages: These are mainly for you. As you will note, the Catster list includes exam gloves and let me tell you, if you follow that advice, you’ll be needing plenty of bandages. Only a great fool dons latex exam gloves and thinks a cat will take an exam needing them. The “heavy gloves” item on the list is much more accurate.
• Kitty Carrier: A box with holes works. Make sure Fluffy can’t get out mid-drive to the vet because your car seats may never be the same again.
• Wooden bat: I don’t know. Maybe you have a really big cat.
• Peanut butter: The Catster list suggests a pill gun. For some cats and experiences, you may want a gun of sorts, but in regards to pills, just put them in food. Next to the Ace granules.

I love cats. They can get pretty mean and vicious when wounded. I’m no dummy.