It's been 10 months since Kobold died, and since I was last here. I also got fired, and at least one new disorder, bled a lot, and had three little operations, but the one thing that made me write here again is that

I just destroyed the 2-storey cat-house I had made Kendra and Kobold 7 years ago. I desperately need space, but there's other stuff, like 2 t of unread, printed out fanfic to throw out, and the cats (I got a new cat for Kendra, that didn't work either) still loved it, they even ran after it as I dragged it out, climbed into it ... in the garbage room now, I could hardly rip the re-inforced windows (to prevent them from eating it like the first model) or crush the structure to fit into the bins, it was incredibly sturdily built.

It was a very stupid thing to do, that I had calmly considered for weeks now - first took away her roof/carpet, then tore the old tape off that seam - and that I'm now unseemly upset about.

LJ is the only place linked to my past life - back then, I had posted the pictures of my box construction (can't remember what I used a hammer for to work on cardboard but I did) - so dear online diary, unlike during the many traumatic months I didn't bother you about, I have to say ... I'm worried about me.

I often wonder what other LJers are doing that quietly disappeared?

How many are still alive, who hopefully found RL occupations and such? I used to read every single private post of everybody (don't want to type Imissedyou because that's too cheesy). I haven't heard from my flist for 10 months, and I just saw a couple of you are still posting regularly, but it must be more unusual to even return.

Thank you for listening.

(Livejournal, you... look frightening, btw, a tumblr or Facebook clone? You don't want me back, do you).

memento mori

Sorry, forgot to add some actual pieces of information:

The autopsy had found nothing (colon completely empty) but neither did the pathology/toxology/histology. They examined tissues, organs, even her little brain. So I'm plagued by imagined images of knives in her soft warm tender fur for nothing. Everything in her world came through me, so even if I did nothing wrong, her death was my fault.

Her little wooly head, that would always bump me genuinely tenderly in the face. Her smiling in the hammocks that Kendra will never use. Her suicidally stupid urge to pull at handles of hot cups of tea resting above our laps.

She was never a good jumper - she wanted so much on that glass shelf of her sister's, but she never even seemed to try. Yet she did jump on the window when I removed the box in the last year, so she could have. And she always jumped over (on top of?) Kendra when they were running for food, which was so funny and cute and esp. because she seemed a stolid wombat otherwise, except in that sheep-jump. And then they would trot side-by-side to the food place. Where Kendra refuses to eat now, as she refuses the 1-year-in-the-works special ceramic station.

Kendra now need parmesan on everything, if she eats it at all. I can't afford the 300 percent fat Recovery vet food, which is the only thing she decided she would eat now (that and venison - just like last time, when she only ate another vet food which she now refuses, just like all the other food I bought). It has to be held in a glass bowl in my hand, so it still looks like it's out of my hand.

I will try hard to shut up now.

Happiness is a piece of shit

Has anybody seen the movie "Sex Traffic" with John Simm? The scene where the first sister starts to get raped "in", in some side-room/cupboard off the bar/livingroom is constantly in my head now, not because I compare myself with such a horrific situation, but because her disbelief, shock and disbelief (or the viewer's) nearly outweighed the pain and horror. And that's how I felt ever since Kobold started dying.

Happiness is literally a piece of shit, because liquid = lethal for cats.

Kendra started doing solids though, and went straight into constipation again (I'm sure my own ignored gastro-intestinal disorder, never mind stress, all infected her as well). She is still alive but she brings me neither comfort nor joy. -i- love her but -i- was weeping whenever -i- see the places Kobold used to be but ever since that second/third day, -i- also don't miss Kobold at all, can't remember her - it's like she never existed! I can't even do the stages of grief right! I have constant fear panic anxiety (disorder?) as well now. Kendra is also still afraid, although the violent spasming of her nightmares got a little less. I know of sudden child death, and that parents fear for human children, but I also know of the 10 years of nightmares after losing my first/previous black cat, and while I'm meant to get over my thrice-daily fear of Kendra also having died (at least that fear, at least that one), old traumas suddenly resurfaced and torture me. As do S and s. I have no mental/emotional/psychological help. I'm also still in physical agony every single morning waking up as well, haven't been able to turn in bed since January. We get used to everything. That's why they raped the girls in.

Happiness is a piece of shit. That's a good T-Shirt slogan; right? It's a quadruple-entendre anyway.

Just wanted to let you know - had written this in my head ages ago and wasn't sure if anybody was still waiting. Thank you for reading.
  • Current Music
    "Girl Afraid"

(no subject)

Getting out of touch with LJ and you, my LJ friends, was never intended and I always wanted to change that. I'm sorry that those treasured few of you still here get only sadness. I'm disabling comments on this because I don't want to pressure you ... and I will need your support maybe even more soon.

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  • Current Mood

my sun my moon my east my west

that line makes literal sense now

Kobold was my satellite, always around or above or beneath me
-i- already missed her physically just when -i-m at work
even at the zoo

she was the quiet one
the tiny squeaks that already amused as a kitten never turned into meows
(except when later on she really really tried to be heard, then it was very rusty squeaky yowling; even when one inadvertently hurt her she wouldn't make a sound the stupid little bear)

she loved to lie under my only curtain, the lace like a mantilla over her head
she wouldn't run around (other than as described yesterday), but her short arms could shoot out with perfect aim and precision to catch something

Kendra has stopped looking and started crying
she went into the death carrier and she just sits and stares at me, no longer listening or searching, just uncomprehending looks at me, waiting for me to bring back her life mate
she s not even greeting me at the door

-i- can t eat yoghurt or anything anymore
-i- understand now why couples split up after the death of their child, rather than help and find comfort in each other

my hands miss Kobold
my arms miss her
my chest misses her
my legs miss her

The autopsy hasn't found anything that could have caused her dying; my only hope is the oncology (toxology? brain and organ samples) now.

Thank you so much, grey and K, for your understanding and sympathy.
  • Current Mood
    so alone

my child is no more

The world has just gotten twice as dark and twice as empty.

Kobold wasn't old, and she'd never really been sick.

I'd been to the vet yesterday, because they'd both been hangdog a day, then better, then the runs, once lots of vomit; but there was nothing to be found wrong and she was eating and playing and stretching languorously again all evening.

And this morning, after trying to ignore Kendra yowling for hours before the alarm, as she sometimes does for boredom, the whole flat was covered in vomit and shit again.

I finally found Kobold under a shelf, in her own urin, on her side, eyes wide open and staring, unmoving. When I tried to touch her, or Kendra came close, she yowled and hissed and flailed one paw.

The vet was short-tempered at me calling early and repeatedly, and my parents (whom I should not ever ask for anything ever again etc.) had to drive in from their county yet again, while I walked crying in the rain to the bus with the wailing suffering cat.


It all ended with me five hours later, handing a cardboard box with a small carcass covered in the most beautiful thick long soft silky black fur to a man who looked like a cartoon butcher, behind whom my terrified eyes saw scenes I look away from on crime shows. Heaps of blood and guts on steel tables, a whole room full of them, and the stench ... it was unbelievable that you walked in and that was it, no barrier, not even a wall behind that "receptionist" who had either a vest or an open shirt over his sagging hairy boobs.

I had regretted not stuffing, or hell, even eating, my last black cat. It's sheer horror to imagine her ending up like the other gore now.

When she died, there was no change. She'd been staring like that for hours. I kept stroking her. I asked the vet in disbelief if that poison injection really only took five seconds, and then to give me the same.

I'm so calm. Somehow the tears haven't stopped for hours, but I'm so calm. It can't be real. It took me ten years of nightmares after losing my last black cat. Every backpack, every mount of clothing, EVERY SHADOW looks like her.

We don't know why she died.

Kendra is a dead weight on me, and I wait for her to die as well. I've said often I dreaded that she wouldn't cope with losing her Kobold, but I hadn't expected her disbelief, her WAITING, looking, walking around, listening, looking at me. Waiting in vain.

I got her for "free", but her death cost me 500,- Euros.

The skin on my cheeks really hurts but it won't stop running although I'm so calm. Good riddance. I can get young kittens now. Or I should get rid of the other one as well, make a clean slate, it's not possible to have this loose end. My little bear, who walked like a wombat rather than a cat-walk cat. Who greeted me at the door every single time, waiting for a welcome pat/petting. Who came wobble-belly running at the faintest sound of the tinfoil of yoghurt being opened. Who galloped even faster from the toilet, always always trying to outrun her poo (a surprisingly successful move, apart from the times I had to pay for it). Who loved to sit in the window and on my lap and really really loved to be massaged and head-butted me and once poured hot tea over both of use because she would always reach out and grab whatever her pawsies could. I had just bought her a second radiator-bed (Kendra won't use them but who knows how soon she'll be dead).

I wish I could have shown you photos, but she was hard to take. I boguht that expensiv camera to shoot her and i never could start to use it.

That constant feeling of guilt intensified rather than stopped, and I know this is only the beginning.

She was my Kobold.


Do you know anybody who will be in Budapest next week?

I ask this every year, and every year the sheer terror of going increases. I hardly ever post here, and even fewer read here :) but please, let me know if you have a single soul for me to survive this ordeal.

I'm not exaggerating, don't romanticise what happened in Budapest ...

*tries to win you over with Avengers but is serious*

unedited dump of something -i- meant to ask you before today

do you remember those 3 european hostages freed from al qu’da a few years ago? they told of the "sound torture" meant to convert them to the qu’ran, which (il)logically was played to them in arabic 24/7, something that stuck in my memory, esp. since it made me realise what had been going on at the office … i thought sherif had given up, but he recorded lots of music from the internet the other night and - no matter how much even another man protests - he plays it at full volume all day now. (eta: while leaving me alone at the stand, unable to even go to the loo, for 3-4 hours, to be jeered at with "oh why do you look tired? heheheh))
an't move coz my hips and back locked upbut mostly -i- wish -i- could get those songs out of my head somehow argheven at home at night they rotate in my headit's always the same few words for five minutes or so you know?to think -i- really loved bhangra which is technically a bit similar?

eta: i will send it to nn, who will never have to experience my circumstances. ->

Genuine question: are those wrongs an American or international thing? I can’t believe I’m doing so many things “right” that “everyone” else supposedly does the wrong way? OTOH I keep being told to not overthink so others do prefer doing it their thoughtless way so that must be what most do ...

The less obvious, more life-hacky Things You Do Wrong made me wonder about national habits - how can she screech EW YUCK BODILY FLUIDS BOIL YOUR SHEETS yet only cold rinse her bras and even "panties"? Even if she wears panty liners, there's all the folds and creases in skin the skinniest model has, and although I know shops and fashion dictate not to wash what women wear against their fluid leaking bodies, after all those years it still hurts my brain trying to figure this out. I know most people wash like that, despite other articles explaining only 60 degrees Celcius will kill of the ecolli etc. in your underpants, so tell me your reasoning please.

Women know they leak. So how does this work :/ the bra also covers where one sweats between shoulderblades and so on and so forth. Maybe the perv Japanese selling girls undies to men simply go to the logical conclusion of throw-away underwear ... *babbles by now but feels genuinely outcast

eta: erm wtf, how can I type in under what name and category I want this in my memories?!?!?!
  • Current Mood

Sherlock s03 (the whole thing really but just now) e03

I can't remember ever having been so moved and positively surprised.

This normally doesn’t happen.

If there are two options, okay and bad, I usually don’t get a completely unexpected best!

Pitch-perfect down to every detail, and despite the bone-deep satisfaction each twist manages to give, it even all makes sense.

*won't read any LJ posts, just in case*
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    briefly not anxious or sad