How Maya is Grieving

 

Maya Angelou Murphy

Anumber of people have asked how Maya and Jenny the Cat have been doing sinceThomas left us. Both feel his absence, for sure, and I have no doubt that theysense my sadness as well. Consequently, Jenny has slept with me every nightsince our last day with him. I believe cats sense when humans are ill, andshe interprets my sadness as a state of being unwell. (Purrl, before her, couldalso sense when I was physically ill or deeply sad, and she would crawl underthe covers in those times and place her body against mine, purring as a mothercat would do with kittens—even though Purrl never had any of her own.)

Mayais another story altogether. Thomas, it seems, was her assumed body guard. WhenThom could still go for walks, I would sometimes walk them together around theblock, and Maya would actually be happy and excited on the leash. (In case you’reunaware, unless we’re hiking, Maya hates going for walks—because it’s just “toopeoply” out there.) In the morning, with Thomas here, Maya would run into andthrough the kitchen, then tear through the living room, looking for things toplay with, hopping and wagging her tail and barking if I didn’t get herbreakfast ready fast enough. It was hilarious and entertaining every morning.

Atthe time of this writing, Thomas has been gone for two weeks and two days, and for two weeks and two days, Mayahas gone right back to the safety of her bed after we come back in from theback yard. No running through the house. No hopping. No playing. She looks forhim in the kitchen, and when she sees he isn’t there, she simply retreats tothe den and curls up again.

Thismakes me very, very sad for her. She had come so far, but seems to bewithdrawing again. I’m giving her extra love, of course, and simply going tosit with her often. But she has lost her rock, her anchor. (It’s probably agood thing she doesn’t realize that looking to Thomas for protection would belike Dorothy looking to the Cowardly Lion to do the same.)

Assome of you know, months before I lost Thom, I had begun looking for a dogcompanion for Maya, a confident dog that would help her continue to recover andmake her feel safe on walks, perhaps draw her out to interact with me more. AndI wanted to get a new dog settled into my pack before Thomas left us, so thathis passing would be easier on Maya. Alas, that did not happen. But, to thatend….

<Spoileralert: Big Announcement ahead>

OnFriday, I adopted a dog. Before you go thinking that I rushed out to my nearestshelter and impulsively grabbed a sweet dog to comfort me in my grief, let meassure you it did not happen that way. Like, at all. This dog’s story—and I doknow the entire back story—is so complex and complicated that names will bechanged to keep the guilty from being publicly shamed, and I won’t even be ableto share all of it here. But in my next post, I’ll give you an update on my newlittle girl, Stevie (not her original name), and I’ll tell you as much as Ican. (If you want the full story after that, you’ll have to call me and besworn to lifelong secrecy.)

Fornow, I can tell you this: Despite everything that has happened to her in recentweeks, Stevie is filled with joy and enthusiasm. Her tail never stops wagging.She loves everyone she meets—people, dogs (cats, I hope). She’s got sass andspirit (thus her name; that’s “Stevie” from Schitt’s Creek, not Stevie Nicks,though she would do for a namesake, too).

That’sall I know for now because she isn’t even home yet. She’s still in dog jail. I can’tpick her up until her spay surgery, and that can’t happen until Tuesday becauseof the holiday. Oh my dragons! Hasn’t this dog endured enough?? But wait—you don’tknow that part of the story yet. More to come, but let me conclude by sharingone more thing.

Youmay be thinking that I’m all excited about bringing a new dog home. The truthis, I am 20% excited and 80% terrified. New situations and changes in routineare very difficult for me, to say the least. I function much better when thingsare the same, day after day—calm, steady, predictable. This is part of mymental health journey, and though I am aware of it, that doesn’t make newsituations any easier. I know. You’re thinking, “New dog! Yay!” and I’m overhere wringing my hands and worrying about whether my new girl will chase Jennyor pee on the carpeting or somehow (heaven help us) escape the yard. But I feltexactly this way when I brought Maya home. Well, no, with Maya I was 10%excited, 90% terrified. OK, maybe 5% excited. Really. Same with Thomas. Andlook what became of that.

Soif you call to get the whole scoop on Stevie and I sound flustered, justreassure me that the sun will rise the next day, Jenny will come out from underthe bed eventually, and Stevie will add another dimension of joy to this homethat has been far too quiet without the tip-tapping of Thomas’s feet on thefloor. Stay tuned. Here we go…. And may the New Year bring a new dimension ofjoy to your life as well (preferably a rescue dog, but that’s just my own biasspeaking).