Engleberts in Missouri [miz-er-ree]

He’s trying to win me over. He knows I still haven’t fully decided to welcome him into our family.

I bought him a flea collar - but not a tag. I put out food and water every day. I scratch his ears and rub his belly. I check to make sure he’s not under the car when I back out of the driveway. I even let him in the house occasionally. But still, he knows he’s not “our cat” yet.

I think he’s trying to win me over by leaving me presents. Yesterday it was half a bird. Today, a squirrel. Perhaps I should explain to him that a bouquet of flowers or a box of chocolates would be my preference. Although, a mouse-free garage during the winter months is pretty special too.

I told you I had many stories to share but I couldn’t get any of them out of my head and onto my blog. I’m suffering from a severe case of writer’s block.

We’re headed out today to do some camping. We’ve loaded up the truck and we’re heading north to a beautiful state park/lake. I am hoping that when I return, the writer’s block will be long gone. See you Sunday.

PS - Steve was forgiven long ago. In fact, just acknowledging that I was angry seemed to make it disappear. In the meantime, a gray kitty with marks just like Tina has appeared at our house. The ghost of Tina? It was starving so we’ve been feeding it. But we haven’t decided to try and claim it as our own yet.

I want to share with you all the wonderful stories from our vacation. The happy times we had, the things we did and people we reconnected with but I can’t. I’m not ready to move on from the sadness I feel. I’ve cried with the children. We’ve reminisced over all of the things we loved about Tina. We’ve cried some more. We’ve talked about how angry it makes us when people suggest we should just get another kitty as though another kitty will replace her and stop us from being sad. We’re not ready for another kitty. Maybe we never will be.

I had a dog when I was a child. He was a mixed breed German sheppard we named Barney Fife. I loved that dog so much. In my mind, he was the perfect dog - smart, loving, loyal, fiercely protective. During the first years I lived away from home, I tried to find a dog like Barney but I never could. No other dog could live up to Barney’s memory and eventually I gave up trying. We’ll never own another dog.Tina wasn’t the perfect cat but I don’t think she can be replaced either. She had a unique personality that a new cat just won’t have.

It’s not just sadness either. A small hard kernel has been growing in my stomach which is churning away trying to dissolve it but it hasn’t gone away yet. I am angry at the senselessness of her death. I hate walking out into the driveway and seeing where her little body laid. I am angry that Steve didn’t check under the car to make sure Tina wasn’t under there. We did it all the time because she loved to lay on the heat of the driveway in the shade of one of our vehicles. I am angry that Steve was more visibly upset when my son accidentally backed into a desk that was sitting behind the van and caused a couple of small dents than he appears to be about our cat. The dents were fixed rather cheaply. Tina is gone forever. Part of me knows that Steve is upset and sorry about what happened. We’ve talked about it. I know he is a stoic and pragmatic person by nature. He isn’t the type to cry about things that can’t be changed. But it doesn’t make that little kernel go away. I will get over my anger. The rational part of me knows it was just an unfortunate accident. It just takes a little time.

I hate that my kids are so sad and upset and that there is nothing I can do to make them feel better. I didn’t realize until Tina was killed that they have never really experienced death and grief in a personal way. We’ve lost a lot of people over the years. Steve’s grandmother, grandfather and uncle died. Amber and April have lost their grandmother and grandfather Trimble and an uncle. Steph and Vicki’s father died just a few years ago. And my own grandmother and father died in the last few years. All of these losses were terrible for us but really didn’t affect Jon and Violet very deeply because none of them were people that they knew very well or spent much (if any) time with. They were sad mostly because people they did know and love were sad and unhappy.

Tina may have been a pet rather than a relative but Jon and Violet are taking her death pretty hard. The questions and recriminations are hard to hear. “Why did Tina have to die?” “If only I had been out there I would have seen Tina and moved her.” “I miss Tina so much, I want her back.” I don’t think until this happened that Violet truly understood death and it’s finality. I know Jon understood death but he didn’t really get how losing someone feels. It’s a lesson we all have to learn some time but it sucks.

Thank you to everyone who has called, sent an email or left a comment. We appreciated your kind thoughts and assurances that grieving for a lost pet is perfectly normal. My parents will be here tomorrow so I’m hopeful that Granny and Papa will be able to distract the kids’ from brooding over Tina.

Our kitty, Tina was killed in a car accident today.

Steve and I really weren’t thrilled at the idea of a pet but Violet had begged for years to be allowed to have one. We used to put her off with a “We have too many kids for pets. Maybe in a few years.” After Vicki left for college the begging was ratcheted up a notch. After all, we were down to 3 kids at home by then. After much begging, we finally agreed that Violet could get a cat. We picked Tina out of a large selection of kittens at the Humane Society. She had been born only a few weeks before - her mom was a homeless cat and her dad no where to be seen.

Tina was tiny and afraid of everything. After we brought her home, she hid under the coffee table a lot - Violet was eager to hug and love her but Tina wasn’t ready for that.

It took a little while but eventually Tina warmed up to us and we definitely warmed up to her. This morning, Tina was especially affectionate. She wanted lots of attention having been alone for much of the last week while we were gone on vacation (we just got home last night). Violet and I spent about a half hour petting her this morning.

It was surprising to all of us when we turned out to be cat people. Maybe it was just Tina’s personality. She could be really smart - like opening zippered bags to get at the hair bands inside. She was a lot of fun to play with. Chasing after hair ties, string, and catnip mice. She could be stubborn though - we had several battles of will over drinking from her bowl and not climbing on the counters. And sometimes we wondered about her smarts - we moved her food bowl and for several months she would occasionally go back to the old location, look around and wonder where her food was.

She was supposed to be an inside cat. If she’d stayed an inside cat she would be alive right now. But Tina didn’t want to stay inside all the time. She wanted to go outside in the sunshine. She liked to run through the yard chasing (and catching) birds and bugs. She was a fierce hunter keeping our garage and yard mouse-free. Just this afternoon she was catching baby bunnies, now she’s buried in the backyard.

I am surprised at how upset and sad I am. Violet is heartbroken. Jon is upset and sad. Steve is sad and feeling guilty over having been the cause of Tina’s death. It feels silly to be so upset and crying over a kitty but we are. She was “just a cat” but we miss her.

I know I said she’d drink from the bowl and like it but apparently I was wrong. Tina continues to refuse to drink from her water bowl. She has mounted a protest by deliberately tipping over her bowl as well as any unattended glasses of water to make her point.

I haven’t given in though - I refuse to let her drink out of the faucet. We’re pretty much at a stalemate with the only outcome the eventual death of Tina from dehydration if one of us doesn’t give in soon.

Today we bought Tina an electric pet fountain. $42 so that she will drink some water. Still, that’s a lot less than the water bill so let’s just call this a compromise.