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She woke at three A.M. and accepted her fate that she had caused this cat situation to happen. She awoke at six A.M. to a claw oddessey of pricking her awake. And just like that, she switched to "I'm sick of you both. get out of my house. this is ridiculous".
She had that anger that you can't do anything about because it's an innocent but she picked up its purring orange body and vibed into it anger. She had also forcefully pushed it away when it clawpricked her cheek.
"not the face!"
So, she has to check herself: is she a monster? Has she regressed into this - or even has she had her deception lifted and is now realizing she's been a monster. Whatever it 'twas, she felt rather listless and absent from reality, but she was fine with it for the accommodation.
It was cold today. Who cared. She sat waiting for the performative "good morning" sort of. In another way, none of it really mattered in this limbo/purgatory.
And London, like the cat, she beat herself up over that. Yet, perhaps it's not the strangest thing to revisit your life after you've escaped a war in your refuge. She recalls when #2's #1 wife told her that Narcissi's divorce with dickhead was very healing to her - his first wife. She said she was able to resolve and process so many things.
"you're welcome"
"I know that this is all hard for you. I know."
Yet, no matter what, she was eternally grateful for the first wife - the validator. Few would ever be able to confirm her experience. Few would ever even hear her tell of "bad girl" and "you're fucking crazy". Narcissi well understood the part she played in eliciting those hits, and it was just such a broken record at this point which has ...
Look, she had no idea how much she had been holding #1. . . no clue.
Now, it's as if she was re-divorcing him almost. It was so strange, but she kind of thought that too was validated by #2's #1. And of course she was #1's #2. It was weird to live a life of distraction. When the robot she made herself chat with asked her how she felt, sometimes the question alone made her cry.
She had the most pathetic garden planted. Everything she knew now she had also known to do before. It was just the doing.
Klio kept looming outside, wanting to come in. The weird thing is she wondered what they wanted. Were they just "dumb" animals. She had wept last night reading on the reddit (welcome to all day all night) topic about intelligent cats and the variety in them... She keeps a portion of a photo from her first Christmas card in New York with her soon to be husband while her life was looking so fun and awesome and they have a cat. They have the same sense of humor. The picture cut out she has is the awkward cat in her #1's hands.
Today is the day her #1 cat died. She sometimes has forgotten the date, yet of course this year it seems that everything comes up and everything is to be viewed. The guilt the "what the FUCK was I thinking" - the retrospective reasoning. the "was I fucking crazy? did I hurt my cat by my ignorance/delusion?".
She's not going to describe the whole day as a resurge, but just a torn out portion of it. The cat - her symbolic meaning - in narcissi's stronger days, "I know few things, but I know I'm a good cat mommy/companion". She had had this cat in her wedding vows. She had had portraits of this cat. This cat had gotten sick, and she had been so so so so so so so so so so so so so so ignorant - adhering to some stupid throwaway statement they made when they got her about vets and country cats and comparisons.
They're in the purple room at the vet while she waits for her cat to die.
"how long will this take? she is in so much pain."
"It might take ...."
[god if you exist. padz - please forgive me. I'm so sorry. I love you. thank you for being.]
"do that then. I want her to not suffer one more second longer. I want her at peace."
Of course she regretted that, the cat had been suffering so long already perhaps dying in its human's arms instead of an anonymous....
No matter what you think of Narcissi or that she's a monster abuser, in many ways she is a three year old little girl parading in that big body. She called the first daddy she had ever had to tell him the cat he got her died. She hadn't called him in countless years - texts sure maybe fortnightly - but never phonecalls after the post-divorce triage marathon sessions (thank you mark).
She could barely talk.
"Padz is dead."
In that moment, it was apparent how one of them had clung to the past and never really let it go and one of them had definitely moved on. He was cool and kind about it as he always is, yet it was a sliver of a fraction of the devotion she had held.
the wake was epic.
her friends were so kind and understanding.
she always said "pawpadz death drove me into #2's arms"
And Kent had said something too that stuck with her like a magnet "cats don't really love you - they just want food."
But don't we all?
She kind of taught herself everything so had to unteach it without hopefully letting on to the others what a savage she was. The thing she understood now - today - is that cats definitely can communicate with you. It's not just food.
She had a lot of work to do, and she loved herself like a job.
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