Friday, November 13, 2009

Black Friday

Most of us say TGIF. We dread Fridays. Last Friday our car died. And why should Friday the 13th be any different?

The most important lesson I've learned through this whole ordeal is this: Mercy, humanity and compassion are always trumped by a name on a dotted line of a deed or mortgage and that the very act of pleading for mercy, humanity and compassion is nothing more than "harassment."

Four days ago, Sweetie, our cat, stopped eating. For weeks, the only way she'd eat is if I'd spoon-fed her her favorite food (salmon). I was virtually the only person who kept her alive because she'd eat for me and not even Barb.

When our little fighter gave up and stopped eating early this week, I knew the end was near. She weighed perhaps no more than four pounds and I knew that organ failure was imminent. I took stock of our situation. We rent an upstairs apartment. We have no front or back yard. We can't afford cremation or a full-blown funeral. Our car died a week ago and we have at least $800 in car repair bills plus $650 in rent to worry about coming up with.

I figured, since I'd mowed her lawns hundreds of times and literally put my blood, sweat and tears into her property over the last 15 years, that I would've earned the right to bury our sweet little cat in Ingrid's back yard next to Sheena so we could give her a dignified goodbye. I emailed her asking her for a 15 minute moratorium on her No Trespass order in exchange for over 15 years of selfless and hard work. That's a good exchange, I thought. I was ignored. I emailed her again and was ignored. I texted her when the end was near last night. I was ignored. I left a message on her voice mail begging her for mercy. At that time, Sweetie's front legs were up and outstretched, as if reaching for the light.

Finally, she responded. Through the police. They called my cell phone and claimed I was "harassing" her and threatened me with another restraining order. The organ donor on the other end also said I wasn't making any sense when I simply asked for a place to bury our poor little cat, our devoted little friend. What were my options? Throwing her body in the dumpster? Sticking her in the freezer? I gave Ingrid a way out of this and to show some mercy and compassion for an innocent little animal who never went out of her way to hurt anyone.

But, as usual, she had to have everything her way and, once again, marched into the local police station waving printouts of my emails. And, as usual, their reverse chauvinism allowed them to see things her way and to allow themselves to be used as her private security force.

Meanwhile, Barb and I were all alone in the world during this death watch. Twice I thought she was dead and twice I was wrong. It's ironic that in these four days since she'd stopped eating, her always-troubled and noisy breathing got quiet. We laid her next to us in bed while she moved her legs, occasionally mewing, as if she was meeting God or St. Peter.

But it wasn't God. He ignored me when I prayed to him in desperation. I've been ignored by dozens of literary agents, dozens of prospective employers, by people who used to be loved ones. Why should God be any different?

By this morning she was finally gone. My little friend, who just yesterday afternoon in the final hours of her life somehow mustered her failing strength to walk up to me and nuzzle against me as if to say, "It's OK," finally crossed over.

My little friend is gone as are all the friends I ever had and lost this year. Sweetie can teach certain people some lessons. Lessons in how to love unconditionally. Lessons in tolerance and patience (she went through hell during the drive up from Vero Beach.) Lessons in not easily giving up on that which is most precious in this world.

Instead, the lesson I learned is that a name on a dotted line trumps any appeal for mercy and compassion when you have no other humane options. And it doesn't matter if that name on the dotted line happens to be that of a soulless husk and black hole of a... human being, for want of a better phrase.

That poor little cat, who never asked for cancer and who loved everyone, a cat named Sweetie who lived up to her name in every way, shape and form, deserved better. I'm glad that she found Barb and then me. I'm glad that her end came in a warm bed next to two people who loved her mightily. I'm grateful that they both reminded me that, yes, compassion and humanity are never the wrong things to ask for.

I'm ashamed that I wasted the last 15 years on Ingrid Reed and her lying, larcenous, viper's nest of a family. I'm ashamed to admit that I ever knew her or her progeny. But those 15 wasted years were redeemed in the last 14 weeks of my life, which is how long Sweetie was my friend. She'd lived a hard life in the wilds of Stamford, CT where she had to hunt for her own food and did it badly. She was fortunate enough to find Barb and then she was fortunate enough to find me and, knowing she was ill (though I didn't know how ill), I insisted she come up for the trip. Because the alternative, having her turned out by her mother, was intolerable.

And in a way, even though her final four days has been devastating to me (to say nothing about how much her friend of 5-6 years has been devastated), even though her final descent made me cry harder than I ever had in my entire life, dissolving me in long, racking sobs of grief and rage lasting for entire minutes, I have to remember what Tennyson said about loving and losing and how it's better than never loving at all.

And Sweetie, our pet, our devoted little friend, reminded me through her selfless example that love, indeed, can still be justified and worth the grief when it's no longer there.


At November 13, 2009 at 11:52 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

You call this woman a cunt and a douchebag, among other things, and you think she's going to fall all over herself when you "give her a way out of this" to bury your girlfriend's cat in her back yard? You reap what you sow, buddy. Just what are you trying to stir up here?

At November 13, 2009 at 2:33 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

Before I had an animal in my life I used to be judgmental about people and their feelings for their pets. I no longer am. They are a part of us just as any family member. I'm so sorry for your loss. Sweetie was a very fortunate kitty.

At November 13, 2009 at 3:42 PM, Anonymous KathyG said...

I'm so sorry about your loss. I'm sure Sweetie was a special cat. I know my cats are kind of like my kids. To the first Anon. why don't you freaking lighten up, instead of being a "tough guy" online why don't you grow an actual set of balls and quit harassing people you don't even know. Oh right I know people like you have to make up for their tiny egos and if you're male, which you probably are, your tiny tweezer sized dick.

At November 13, 2009 at 6:43 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

But it wasn't God. He ignored me when I prayed to him in desperation. I've been ignored by dozens of literary agents, dozens of prospective employers, by people who used to be loved ones. Why should God be any different?

Blaspheming won't help anything and reveals a lot about you. God is not your personal servant. Maybe He was busy at that time.

At November 13, 2009 at 6:51 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

RWLNJ, you noticed that, too.
Jurassic Pork sure eviscerated himself in no uncertain fashion on-line, as his little contremps developed, didn't he. He even included his little I-learned-twenty-ways-to-kill-with-my-bare-hands-in-Navy-Seals schtick before it was over.
Ah well, first it was Ingrid, then it was "douchebag" and irreversible insanity, and now it's "me an' Barb"
Who can keep up?

At November 13, 2009 at 6:54 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

"Just what are you trying to stir up here?"

What good is having a blog if you can't use it to attack your ex-girlfriend.

Yup, "girlfriend". I don't know where he gets that "family" stuff from.

O, BTW, you and Barb set a date yet?

At November 14, 2009 at 1:35 PM, Blogger Cossack said...

Dear JP,

You have my most heartfelt condolences. It is always difficult to lose a companion and our "pets" usually are our best companions; they are rarely judgmental and unfailingly loyal, their love is boundless and given to us freely.

May you make it through this with as little pain as possible.

At November 15, 2009 at 3:44 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

The blog that will not die...

At November 17, 2009 at 1:49 AM, Blogger Stan B. said...

Our condolences. Hope you can steal away a small patch of ground somewhere nearby to set her down...

At November 17, 2009 at 12:21 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

Hey Bob, you sick, demented,'s a shame you ever had a cat. You are'nt fit to own ants. How can you possibly love another living thing? You love yourself so much that there's no room for anything else. But then again you can't possibly see that, you sick fuck.
Why don't you grow some balls and be a man for once? You never got up off your ass when you mooched off Ingrid, let alone ever mow the lawn. All you did was whine, like you do now, except that now it's funnier because it's so pathetic.
Why don't you go be happy with your fat, toothless, mail order bride? Doesn't it piss her off that you obviously still have the hots for Ingrid? Especially since she is HOT. RED HOT! It must KILL you that she just was never hot for YOU! Ha Ha. You silly little man.

At November 17, 2009 at 2:50 PM, Blogger jurassicpork said...


I've buried her but it certainly won't make certain people happy.

Last Anon:

You're obviously a brain-dead cretin who hasn't got two neurons to rub together since everything you said is dead wrong and are, ergo, not worth the electricity it would cost my fingers to make a rebuttal (although a clarification needs to be made: Far from me mooching from Ingrid, who's now pathetically deflated and far from "hot", I brought well over $220,000 into that house and when I got booted out 15 years later, I had less than $800 in my pocket with no car and no health care.).

But insult my "mail order bride" one more time and let's take this private so we can exchange street addresses so I can teach you some manners.

I hope to God you turn out to be Josh. I really do.

At November 18, 2009 at 7:51 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

220k over 15 years and you're PROUD of that? Someone here needs a reality check.

At November 18, 2009 at 8:01 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

Hey Anon,

I have to say I am concerned that this cat was allowed to suffer needlessly for days on end rather than being humanely euthanized. This isn't about the cat, it's about JP, just like everything else in his life.


At November 20, 2009 at 8:28 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

1. Teach ME manners??
2. She IS a mail order bride.
3. why stop the insults with insult everyone else..time to grow a pair and learn how to take what you readily dish out.
4. Nope, not Josh

At December 18, 2010 at 12:26 AM, Blogger jurassicpork said...

Yeah, teach YOU manners, asswipe. Still waiting for that meeting.

Yeah, I THOUGHT so, you fucking wimp.

At December 4, 2011 at 11:42 AM, Blogger jurassicpork said...

Still waiting, loser...

At October 17, 2017 at 9:18 PM, Blogger jurassicpork said...

It's amazing that a loser like Chadwick, someone who was obsessed enough with our dead cat to so searches on her years ago would, #1 still be so craven as to post anonymous crank messages so as not to get in dutch with his bosses at King Solomon and queer his $200,000 a year gig holding other peoples' book rights hostage because that's the only way King Solomon Publishing can make money. And #2, that he's still beating up on a dead cat that had painfully died of cancer nearly eight years ago. I mean, insulting a dead cat? That must make Joseph David Chadwick the most pathetic "human being" on the planet earth. But then again, those who'd been unfortunate enough to know him and his gold digger wife Fiona already knew that, which is why they keep feeding me information about this walking herpes sore whether or not I want or ask for it.


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