A week later

Tuesday, June 9th 2015

It is one week since Freya died and we are slowly getting used to life without her.

Reflexes remain, such as when, in a pause between other activities, I think to go and look where Freya is. Or when I notice the time and think I had better give Freya her dinner. The other afternoon I dozed off on the bed and awoke with a start from a muddled dream thinking “Now Freya’s back, we must make a fuss of her”.

I still haven’t disposed of the carrying cage and its contents but I will do so eventually. From what I know of myself, I expect to wake up one morning thinking “Today’s the day to do that” and then I will…

We of course insured Freya for medical expenses and, like all insurance premiums, those for Freya have increased year on year. Her final claim has not yet been settled but when it has, the monthly premiums will no longer be required. We have both decided to donate an equivalent amount of money to one of the cat charities.

I have not yet made a final choice for my share but I think I will sponsor a cat at one of the rehoming charities. When cats are rescued, every effort is made to find a good home for them but for some this is not possible. They may be too old or may suffer health problems that most people are unwilling to take on. In other cases, the cat is traumatised and needs long-term, possibly permanent, care, or may have behavioural problems that render him unsuitable for rehoming in a domestic environment. These cats remain for the rest of their lives in one of the cat sanctuaries. Maintaining these cats is a labour of love but it also costs money, and most charities run sponsorship schemes whereby you can make a regular monthly donation for the care and support of a named individual cat and receive regular reports on his welfare. Some charities even allow you to visit your protégé.

I am of course aware that such sponsorship is virtual rather than actual. Some cats are more likely to attract sponsors than others and I cannot imagine a cat charity feeding one cat on turkey breast and putting another on half rations because he has not received a sponsorship. I don’t doubt that all income is in fact shared out as it is needed. That’s as it should be and I’m happy for my money to be used democratically, as it were. Seeing donations as a sponsorship, though, allows you to become involved with an individual and to feel some caring and responsibility for him.

I have tentatively picked out a charity and a cat I would like to sponsor, but that may change between now and the money being freed up. I am aware that in the aftermath of a loss such as that of Freya, one’s thinking and reflexes are not what they would be in more stable conditions. Decisions can be made hastily that one regrets afterwards. The wait for the insurance claim to be settled gives me time to reflect and, all being well, make sure I am thinking sensibly again.

Copyright © 2015 SilverTiger, https://tigergrowl.wordpress.com, All rights reserved.

About SilverTiger

I live in Islington with my partner, "Tigger". I blog about our life and our travels, using my own photos for illustration.
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14 Responses to A week later

  1. So sorry to read of your loss. Wise to give yourself a little time to reflect. x

  2. Pants says:

    Dear Silver Tiger

    I’m so sorry to read about Freya’s passing. I feel like I’ve gotten to know her through your blog and I will miss hearing about her life with you and Tigger.

    xxx

    Pants

  3. Big John says:

    Sorry that I’m a bit late in catching up with news of the loss of your beloved Freya. I’m sure that, like me, many of your followers will also miss her … John

  4. Ted Marcus says:

    I’m so sorry to hear of your loss. As there is no “standard” process or timetable for grief, you’ll surely know when it’s the appropriate time for the disposition of Freya’s things. The sadness will fade on its own schedule, though possibly not completely. I still miss my dog, even it’s been nearly 30 years.

    Also, don’t be surprised if you “hallucinate” her presence for some time. After my last rat died (and I decided, as you did, that I didn’t want the anxiety that would go with replacing him), I would periodically “hear” him crunching his uncooked pasta for almost a year before it ceased.

  5. What a lovely idea to sponsor a cat – one in need due to circumstances it cannot control. Very very kind.
    Nothing wrong with taking a bit of time.

  6. WOL says:

    A fitting legacy for Freya for you to donate “her” money to the care of her fellow felines. I once had four cat carriers and a stack of cat dishes. Now that I do not need them all, I donated the surplus to the local humane society. The world will harbor many such emotional booby traps for a while. As I was cleaning and moving furniture last week, I discovered a tuft of white fur left behind by the white one. Poor old man. He was a crotchety old rascal but I miss him.

  7. Blathering says:

    I am very sorry to hear of the death of your beloved cat. Pets are a very important part of our lives. It’s a lovely memorial to her, to donate money to another cat.

    I just read through previous comments, and was struck by your response to someone else, “the brain tries to fit unknown sights and sounds into familiar patterns.” I thought of a totally different interpretation of that – it reminded me that when my brother died, my partner said to me ‘John died’ – and my brain tried to picture a John that I knew of, who could have died. I didn’t know any other Johns, but my brain did not suggest my brother as an option for making meaning out of that statement. It was illogical to be trying to recall some other “John” I had no emotional attachment to, given that my partner was crying as he told me. I guess my brain was looking for a familiar pattern to fit to those unknown sounds.

    • SilverTiger says:

      Thanks for your sympathy regarding Freya.

      I can understand to your difficulty in equating the John you knew and loved with the entity described by the phrase “John died” which had no meaning for you. The death of a loved one is a difficult concept to accept and the mind rebels against it.

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