Friend, interrupted

Recently, I did my first unfriending of someone on Facebook.  It was the first time I had done so and I didn’t do it lightly.  I’m not one to go through and purge my friend list because I don’t talk much to this person or that person has different views from my own, and I’ll admit that I do get a little hurt when I see a friend has decided to unfriend me, leaving me wondering what I did to end up on the D list. 

In this particular instance of my own version of unfriending, I got to the point where I just couldn’t handle the bigotry and the negativity about everything that wasn’t this person’s view.  After reading some of this person’s posts, I was left scratching my head and wondering why they seem so hateful and unable to accept that there are different people in this world.  In real life, I never had an inkling this is how they were.  In fact, they were quiet, unassuming, and seemed open to hearing everyone’s views.  Online; however, this person is completely different and I’m left wondering if that’s how they actually are in real life.

I understand that people will have different opinions than I will and I accept that.  As I said earlier, I don’t unfriend people just because they have a belief that I don’t share.  However, it becomes a problem when they aren’t willing to reciprocate with understanding and listen to what others have to say.  It also becomes a problem when they come to the table with unsubstantiated half-truths or say, with conviction, that something has occurred when in fact it’s quite the opposite.  Do your homework, people, lest you make yourself look like an idiot.

This is what I was privy to for months before hitting that “unfriend” button.  I thought about it long and hard before I did it and would often tell myself, “Maybe I just need to give this person another chance.  They have different views and that’s okay, isn’t it?”  Truth is; it wasn’t just about having different views.  It came down to bigotry and complete disregard for the idea of equal rights for everyone and I just couldn’t deal with it any longer.  And, why should I have to? 

For those of you still on my list and wondering if you’ll ever find yourself on my D list...I’m not quick to remove a person from my list and to be removed you have to do something pretty heinous or hateful, and even then I will probably give you several chances before deciding to end our Facebook friendship.  I love that I can connect and keep in touch with old and new friends alike on Facebook.  However, I realize I shouldn’t feel bad about deciding to remove toxicity from my life, no matter where it may lie in real life or online.  Just like we choose to watch a different television channel or listen to another radio station, we can choose to turn off or change the people we associate with.

Rest in peace, my furry friend

Tiggy enjoying his favorite pastime, sleeping in the sun.

It’s day three since I lost my cat soulmate, Tigger.  I cry at the drop of a hat because EVERYTHING reminds me of him, so much so that I find it hard to stomach being in my own house; my own house that used to be my sanctuary where I could relax and be inspired.  Now, it’s just a constant reminder of the one I’m missing the most, and even though my house is full of cats, it still feels empty because 

Tigger was the biggest personality in our home and he has left a very large hole.  My heart is broken. 

Tigger had lung cancer and it likely spread beyond that because it took him fast.  The first time the shadow appeared on his x-rays was back in March when he had a bout of breathing heavily and we took him in to see the vet.  Back then, we thought he just had pneumonia so we gave him a shot to help him fight it.  He got better and we didn’t think anything more about it.  Life went back to normal and he continued to eat, play, and snuggle with me albeit a little more than normal.  I had read somewhere that when cats get older, they tend to spend more time with their owners.  I had thought that was all it was.  Looking back on it now, I truly think he knew something was wrong and that he wouldn’t have much time so he was spending as much of it with me as he could because he knew I would take his passing hard.

We had so many nicknames for Tigger, among them:  Wooty, Bubby Woot, Tiggy.  He was very special.  He was so damn intelligent you could see the gears turning in his head as he looked at the world.  When he was a kitten, he figured out how to open the drawers in the kitchen to make stairs to the countertop and he was the only one of our cats to figure out how to open the doors in our house.  After we had Nyah and put child locks on all the cabinets, he figured out how they worked by pulling the cabinets open with his paw and watching where they caught so he could push the button down with one paw and pull the cabinet open with the other paw.  He got so good at it that he could open the cabinets with one paw.  We eventually had to take the locks off after he showed Nyah how to get around them. 

Tigger was a loving soul.  He took care of me whenever I was sick, always sleeping close by.  He insisted on sleeping in my nook, oftentimes waking me up in the middle of the night with head bumps against my cheek, whisker tickles on my face, and a soft meow if those two didn't work.  Sometimes, he’d turn on the purr to wake me enough to pick up the blanket.  Over the years it became second nature that he’d ask and I’d hold up the blanket, even when I was asleep as I often woke up with him snuggled in my nook with no recollect of how he got there.  When I changed positions he would climb out from the blankets, walk around my head, and insist I let him back into my nook.

Tiggy was also brave, athletic, comical, and many other things I can't even begin to describe because he was truly one of a kind.  I have so many memories of him that I have been recalling these past few days, helping to dry the tears.  I’m devastated and sad, needy for comfort; I’m an emotional mess.  But, I’m also angry that cancer took my Tiggy away.  Fucking cancer.  I hate it and I don’t understand how or why it could take my Bubby Woot away.  Along with the anger, sometimes I’m a little in denial that he’s gone.  It doesn’t feel real.  Often, I expect to see him greet me at the door when I come in or to watch him come trotting in that funny, floaty way that was all his own style to the food dish when I opened a can of wet food.  I think I’m probably hitting all the stages of grief at once and it’s overwhelming for a person’s psyche. 

People try to give comfort and some struggle and end up saying things that make the sting of losing Tiggy worse.  The best thing said thus far was probably from my friend, Nancy.  She recently went through this same thing and after saying she was sorry, she was honest and said, “I don’t know what to say.”  Because often you don’t know what to say and it feels like you have to say something.  But, being honest and telling someone you don’t know what to say to help them feel better about a shitty situation is the best thing you can do for them.

As Tiggy got older these past few years, I used to tell him that he needed to find the fountain of youth so he could live forever.  Tiggy has taken a piece of my heart and soul with him and I hope he knows how much I love and miss him.  I’m not sure where we go when we die, but I hope he’s happy and out of pain and I hope he knows just how much he touched our family when he was with us these past 17 years.  I hope to see you again on the flip side, Wooty.