Viva La Mopsy!!

Dearest Travellers-

Here are the words I never wanted to say.  It has taken me three weeks to make the decision to come back here and tell you, Our beloved Mopsy has vanished. I say “ours” because although we did not own her, she was our family.  I say vanish because there is no body or trace of what fate befell her. There is no evidence to detect where she went. The last time I saw her was October 7th, my birthday, and the moment looked a little like this:


It was early afternoon and I was watching her out our kitchen window that overlooks the patio.  She was lying in the sun, grooming her belly with an air of contentment. It was such a beautiful sunny October day.

In the past three weeks, I have traveled the entire emotional spectrum of gutted sadness to a weird kind of acceptance. Acceptance, in which I still cry randomly and miss her terribly. At times, it’s felt like a hole has been carved out in my soul with a razor edged ice cream scoop. Seriously, that’s what I think of when I hear the word “gutted”. I have waded thru a mental maelstrom of her imagined visceral deaths too horrible to describe here, fearing she suffered, and feeling as though I could have somehow stopped whatever happened. If I had just done …(fill in the blank)..she would be here now.

I have tried to grab ahold of my brain by the ears to redirect my mind to this memory above and not the memory of our darkened driveway that I arrived to that evening. Oddly in that moment, on that night, I actually felt the most overwhelming sense that she was gone. Just gone. It was like the hand of God had reached down and plucked her from this earth..Disclaimer/ FYI, I can be a bit dramatic sometimes, don’t think I’m unaware of this fact, but life sometimes leans into it…

I’m not sure when I will completely stop looking for her each morning, or evening. During the first week of her abscence, I thought I heard her meowing at the back door each night around 10 or 11. I would go to look for her to find nothing but an empty step. Our youngest dog seemed to be sharing my delusion as she accompanied me on more then one night to the door looking for her. Like she had heard a meow too…

I’m not the kind of human who believes in hanging their heart on hope. I think it can become the thing prevents us from embracing what is true and moving into the future…Don’t get wrong, as long as we reside in this house, there is the teeniest tiniest piece of me that will hope to see her again one day, like all of those stories on the internet of lost kitties returning after months/years, perhaps she is having an adventure out there, somewhere…

This particular song has been somehow tied to the idea of this post in my mind… I can’t really say why…

Death, which is what I believe happened, is the most surreal event in our lives, isn’t it? We are all well aware that no one is getting out of life alive. Each of us will die, as well as everyone you love, human or otherwise. Death is the ending to all of our stories. It’s just that very few of us knows when we have reached the last card in the deck. And the world stops for no one. It is generally unchanged by a single death. Life remains in motion around you as you stand leadened watching it all go by. Knowing full well that you too will have to move on. And that walk back to life in progress, it’s one we each do on our own. It is one of many shared hardships amongst humans.

For awhile, it felt like she was a dream. I have all these memories and yet, the kind of abscence that Death creates is unlike any other. It almost makes reality seem unreal. Because in our memories, no one truly dies. The people and animals that you love remain alive inside of us, don’t they?

Death is a catalyst of life…OH MY GOODNESS LOOK AT THAT PUN, am i right? But seriously, think about it, what is the value of this life without death? And doesn’t death so many times provide a renewed understanding in all of those it touches in the value of their own lives. Death changes the perspective of time. Death is in fact a doorway all it’s own.

It seems that we all enter a sort of unspoken contract in this life with those we love. It is a perilous thing to know that at any moment, the object of your affection may gone. Knowing the Mop as I did, I was never under any delusions that she could survive forever as an outdoor cat. I swallowed a very bitter pill when I let her in, as she was not mine, and I could not change the circumstance of our acquaintance. For the record, even now, I would not undo what has been done. I got a year and a half of wonderfulness that could not have happened if i hadn’t opened the front door to her.

I promised that I would always circle back to joy and this time is no different. I believe that sorrow can give birth to our joy. Seriously. It’s a process but I believe it happens. Which leads me to say, I have decided to continue this blog because well, I have camera full of Mopsy images, and a head full of things that I’ve not yet said. And I smile mostly when I think of her. I smile way more then I cry. Because we were so lucky to have found each other. We must ALWAYS remember how lucky each of us are to have had someone in our lives after they are gone. No matter the events surrounding their death.  Just think of the odds that we defy in finding each other.

Mopsy was my unexpected joy on four fuzzy little legs. A pussy cat no less that warmed my dog loving heart. Quitting here offers no lesson. Remember what I said about the getting back up and fighting in life. This is my tear stained resilient as f*ck face.

Lastly, I am a very big believer that art creates a sort of immortality. Let me illustrate: In the past two years, Bowie, Prince, George Micheal and Chris Cornell, all whom I listened to, left this mortal coil. BUT when I listen to their music, they live on. When you stand in front of the massive “One” by Jackson Pollock at MOMA in NYC, you can feel the energy of his life. HE is alive on that canvas. Jane Austen’s “Pride And Prejudice” immortalized a love story. A story that she may have used in a way to reinvent her and her own sibling’s real life long as the story is read, a part of her remains alive. All art by all artists great and small, known and unknown, offers a capsule of themselves that can live thru time, thru us. If you will continue to humor me by reading my words, Mopsy will remain alive in a sense, here with us. THIS can be one of her nine lives…


And that I believe is the closest to a happy ending that any of us can offer…

By the way, there is an exceptional movie called, “What Dreams May Come” that I must recommend as related material …and Robin Williams is in it, very much alive. It’s easily one of the most  beautiful, artful and original movies you will ever see…go watch that…



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