It All Started Here, Jimmy Choo

Honey, Baby's got herself a brand new pair of shoes.

We ventured out to the Mall the other night in order to get M a pair of desperately needed shoes. He's generally quiet about these things, making a mention here and there: "Honey, I am really needing a new pair of shoes." I dismissed it because, it seems we *just* got them. We did, about a year ago. Still, M came home and showed me his shoes, the soles merely attached at the toe and heel, naught in between. Even worse, the leather/vinyl and begun to peel upwards. Unrepairable.

I caved.

"Fine, let's go get new shoes." Our finances are in poor condition and the thought of dropping $200 or so on dress shoes just wasn't what I wanted. Still, M never asks for much and I am a huge believer is buying comfortable shoes. (FYI-- the previous route was the cheaper route. Kenneth, your downline shoe sucks. I still like your other leathers, but this has knocked you down a couple pegs.)

M was brave enough to take both kids to the Mall on his own. I met them there from work. NJ made herself busy as usual, checking out shoes, flirting with everyone who passed by and running from her brother, who was deemed her keeper. Luckily, I had the forethought to grab a handful of Snickers bites and kept slipping them to G as he would pass by, chasing NJ of course. It made his task a little more tolerable.

M selected a pair of Ecco shoes: not too cheap, not too expensive and a HELLUVA lot better made than Ken's shoes. Everyone was looking a little tired, but I decided to wander over to the kid's shoes. We hit the sale section after perusing the merchandise. The salesgal measured NJ's feet, a "feat" in and of itself.

Salesgal: "I think I only have a couple shoes in her size, let me go look."

Me: "Okay."

I continue to peruse and NJ and G continue to chase around. Shortly, Salesgal returns.

Salesgal: "Well, I only have one pair, but they are wides. Would you still like to try them?"

Me: "I don't think she's a wide, but sure."

We caught NJ and sat her down. The Salesgal pulled out the shiny silver and pink pearlesant wonders from the box. NJ took an audiable breath.

Salesgal cooing at NJ: "Can I put these on you?" Salesgal wiggles the shoes near NJ's feet. NJ's face lights up like I have never seen. It is a look of love and awe --pure delight. NJ's mouth is a gape and full grin. The Salesgal slides the shoes effortlessly on NJ's feet. NJ can't stop staring at her feet for a minute.

"Oh #%*!." I think. There it is. Her undying love for shoes has begun.

NJ slides off the little sofa and takes off. She is flying. She is dancing. She is in love.

"Um, I guess we'll take them." I tell the Salesgal.

Do I buy the shoerack now, or wait?

My Old Man

I really need to make more time to write. Writing is such therapy.

I know many of you were worried about my last post, but don't be. I am currently swimming the ocean of my life wondering which direction to head. That isn't such a bad thing.

At the time I was feeling the loss of my mother and the loss of my sixteen year-old Siamese, Sebastian. Sebastian was my little man. A little piece of my heart and soul. I got him in college when he was a mere five weeks old. He made life a little less lonely. My constant companion, my confidant. He heard many joys and secrets, and many heartbreaks. His unwavering patience should be the stuff of legend. Even as a young cat, he let the young girls I babysit carry him around without a nip or even a blink. He loved with abandon, purring like a freight train and rubbing his face against you in appreciation in typical "kitty kiss" style.

As time went on, I got married and Sebastian came with me into the relationship. He and M accepted one another immediately. We also adopted another cat the day we all moved in together, Bina. Bina and Sebastian took a few days to get used to each other, and in time, we had bonded as a family. They were our cats and we were their people.

When G and NJ, and various other cats came along in our household, Sebastian and Bina didn't like it much. They had always been our first children. They had always gotten our undivided attnention. And they didn't like sharing. Sebastian came around first and realized that no matter how many people and animals came in and out, he was special to me. I think he felt lonlier than before, but felt a little solace in knowing he was special to me.

Earlier in the year, we had noticed how skinny Sebastian was becoming. We chalked it up to age, but did have him tested for diabetes and had his thyroid tested. All fine. The vet said he was in amazing shape for his age. Great coat, great teeth, great bloodwork... blah, blah blah. But a mother knows. A mother knows when something is wrong and I knew it. We watched him get skinnier and skinnier. Finally, another vet found a lump, a mass. This vet wanted to get a biopsy, operate, to get Sebastian set up on chemo, radiation. As much as I loved my old man, I couldn't. I knew it might buy us another year or two. We didn't have $2K or more to buy that kind of time, and at what cost to him? It was a cost I knew well from experience, the experience of my mom.

We took him home. We loved on him. Gave him more tuna.

In those days, he was my cat again. He slept on my side of the bed when he could make it up on the bed. He came to me for assurance. At a time when he was in so much pain, I could get a purr out of him.

In the end, it was actually easy to let go. Sebastian at his prime had been a 13.5 pound cat. At the end, he was just skin and bones and weighed ~7 pounds. I knew he was ready to go. He was tired and in pain. The cancer had spread, I think. When Sebastian was gone: M, G and I cried.

There is a Sebastian story I haven't published, and I think I will in the coming days as a tribute. He was such a special cat. So special that even my dad, who *hates* cats, liked him. (And still speaks fondly of him.)

Loss is difficult. Especially when you feel lost at times yourself. Sebastian was one of those "stabilities" in my life. I could always sit and hug him, bury my face into his white fur and let the sound of his enormus purr take over the chatter in my head. I could absorb his love and give it back, knowing he would have no expectations other than a full food bowl.

**************************************************************************

Let it go, let it roll right off your shoulder
Don’t you know the hardest part is over
Let it in, let your clarity define you
In the end we will only just remember how it feels

[sic]

Let it slide, let your troubles fall behind you
Let it shine until you feel it all around you
And I don’t mind if it’s me you need to turn to
We’ll get by, it’s the heart that really matters in the end...

~Rob Thomas
"Small Wonders"