Fear of Fear

I think I'm finally breaking.  Dealing with a lot of anxiety (especially anxiety about insomnia, but not insomnia itself...?), suffering from frequent and debilitating migraines and almost constant trouble with my digestive system, despite eating a balanced diet.

Seems like I spend more time worrying about finishing things than actually finishing things.  I need some perspective, or a break or something.

To complicate everything, Thursday night, Kiska escaped from the backyard when nobody was watching and had a night on the town.  I was an absolute mess on Friday and couldn't bring myself to go to school, even though we had a quiz and a field trip to Radio Canada.  Caspian and I searched for her from 6 AM to 9 AM with no luck and posted signs in our neighborhood.

I was completely overcome with guilt.  The only thoughts in my mind were:  What if she's terrified and alone and lost?  What will happen when the winter comes?  She loves to snuggle and she loves her food; how can I stand the idea of her being cold and hungry and sick, and fighting other cats.  What if she gets hit by a car?  I couldn't sit still, I couldn't do anything...  I can't imagine what parents of lost children must go through.

That was a terrible day.  Ads were placed in Craigslist, animal shelters were called.  My sister was horrified, knowing what a timid, small and nervous creature Kiska is.  How could I let this happen after all of the heartache and triumph this little animal has put us through over the years?  All of the surgeries and hospital visits?  How could she survive on her own?  How could she find her way home, as an inside cat?  We're in the center of the downtown area, where there's always tons of activity, noise and traffic.

Between lessons yesterday evening, I wandered out into the backyard.  Caspian had scattered soiled litter to mark our "territory" for her, and had placed out one of his old shirts in her fuzzy bed.  I'd wandered out there what seemed like hundreds of times that day, disconsolately calling her name, wandering around the three blocks nearby and all of their alleys, probably irritating the neighbors.  I glanced in her favorite little hollow under a peony bush where she always liked to roll, sun and sleep.

And she was there!

Where she went and what she did, nobody will ever know.  She was fit as a fiddle and very happy; a little bit dirty, but that's what happens when an all-white cat runs around in a city.  I think cats are a lot smarter and a lot more able to take care of themselves and remember their surroundings than I give them credit for, especially clever little Kiska.

But the anxiety remains.  It's all I can think about, the fear of the fear.  Three more weeks.

Stuff and Things

I've been thinking.  I find it totally relaxing to read about the minutiae of other people's lives (especially the blogs of authors I like).  Maybe I'll do some of that here as well, just for shits and giggles, but first I have to update you regarding recent happenings.

All is well in the land of Shinseiko and Caspian, albeit a bit cold, windy and covered with ice and snow.  Don't visit Canada in the wintertime unless you have fondness for these things.

I wake up early every weekday morning, shower, put my (already selected) lunch together and walk [in arctic temps] about two miles to my university, where I'm in class with some really awesome people from all over the world.  We have a doctor from Saudi Arabia, three Canadians from other provinces, two Mexicans, one Venezuelan, one Kenyan, a lawyer from Jordan, one Ukranian, one Chinese, one Thai and one Taiwanese.  That's 14 people total, including me, the only American.  I think it's hilarious and irritating that I'm considered like the representative of the USA in this class.  When people talk about the US, they will address me with the plural "you."

It is a superb program, probably one of the best French language programs in the world.  After all McGill University is the 17th best university in the world.  I spend my days laughing, acting silly, making up skits, conjugating verbs and babbling in pronunciation lab.  I walk home facing west (I despise sunny days, because the light reflects blindingly from the snow and ice on the sidewalk and into my eyes) at 3, get home at 3:30, and start work at 4, working until 7.  My clientele has changed a bit with the new hours; I have plenty of Italian, Spanish, Portuguese and Japanese students.  French students prefer to take their lessons in the early evenings on weekends, on which I also work, for six hours each day...  Which means I don't have a single day off until the semester is over (I have a week of break between them).  Hours of homework are completed by candlelight in the evening or on the weekends.  I pretty much have no life right now.  Luckily, that means that I don't spend much money either.

And yet, Felix (who has been stressed about work recently for reasons I can't disclose) wants to practice twice this week.  I...  Have been ultra irritated with him.  With his simplicity and hyperactivity and unrelenting energy.  It is difficult for me at this point in my life to have a friend like him for some reason.  I feel like I am a child in his eyes, full of simple emotions and thoughts, in need of repetition, never learning, always making the same mistakes.  Maybe it's true and things can be distilled like that, but I'm just not in the mood for it.

We also had a very sick kitty a couple of weeks ago.  We came home from our friends' place and found Kiska unable to move on the floor of our bedroom.  She had pooped and peed on herself.  We rushed her to the emergency veterinarian at midnight on a Saturday, sure that she was going to die.  I thought it was neurological and feared that the last memory of my little white cat would be the image of her struggling to move on the floor, crying in fear.  Caspian held her to his chest and she just panted between cries, her face smushed up against him.

We discussed euthanasia that night for two hours in a stuffy exam room.  I cried the most anguished tears of my life, over a little 8-pound creature.  We couldn't afford any treatment, only hospitalization, with me a student again.  We agreed that if she did not get better in two or three days, we would say goodbye.

Luckily, it turned out to be ideopathic vestibular disease, an uncommon but not unheard-of inner ear syndrome that strikes with a vengeance and usually corrects itself.  Within two days, she was able to stand, eat and drink on her own, and we brought her home, where she joyfully reunited with her housemate.  She has been playful, active and friendly ever since.  $500 for those three days, which was part of my dance costume money.  It looks like competition isn't in the near future.

The schedule above is how it will go for the next year or so, until I finish my Certificate of Proficiency.  I've already started the job hunt, sending my CV to my career counselor for editing.  Hopefully I will have a well-paying bilingual position lined up as soon as I have my certificate in hand!

Jailbreak!

Yesterday, a strange kitty was in our backyard.  I had no idea how she got in, but Jesper was close to having an apoplectic fit for half an hour until she extruded herself under the door in the 6-foot fence that walls "our" property off from the alleyway that runs behind the stone houses on our street.

I told Caspian about it, mentioning that our other cat, Kiska, would fit under that space, but he said, "She's a little chicken, she'd never want to leave."  He has a point.  She's tiny, snow white, and has been terrified every day of her 4 years of life that Caspian and I are going to catch her and eat her.  The only "person" she trusts is Jesper.

Caspian lets both kitties out in the backyard every morning while he's getting ready for work.  They love exploring and romping around, and until yesterday, I was quite sure that the entire garden was securely enclosed.  I watched with trepidation as both kitties joyously zoomed out of the house, but I sat down to eat and do some reading and prepare for my day.  Soon enough, Caspian was finished showering and dressing and making his lunch, and he went outside to forcibly get Jesper (who would never under any circumstances come back inside of his own volition).  Jesper was easy to find, but he didn't see Kiska.  Usually she scrambles back inside as soon as a person sets foot in the backyard.  He hunted around a bit and I finally noticed that he couldn't find her.  He came back in and looked under the bed, but no Kiska.

I about had a heart attack; I am ashamed to say that I was probably closer to fainting than I've been in a long, long time!  I checked all of her haunts inside, no kitty, and then went out back in my bare feet.  I said, "KIKA!"  Just one repetition of her nickname and I saw four white paws on the alley side of the fence door, and then, to my endless shock and amazement, she squirted herself into the garden through the tiny hole under the door, galloped through the yard and disappeared inside.

Cats are not nearly as daft as I think they are.  Mine seem ditzy at times, always silly, and, in Kika's case, so terrified of everything, including large moths, that I'd imagined she'd pop with terror if she ever escaped our little abode.  But she's brave, curious...  And apparently knows where her home is.  She remembered!  And even though she worries that I'm going to chop her up and stew her, she comes running when I call her name.

When I first adopted her over three years ago from her foster home, I took her home and set her free in my apartment, and that was the last I saw of her for three months.  She was underweight and had been treated poorly by children.  Her food disappeared, her poop appeared in the litter box, but as soon as I came into the room, she would hide as quickly as possible.  I wasn't bothered by this; every kitty deserves a safe, clean place to live and eat, and a companion to play and snuggle up with, even the very shy ones.  It irks me that few people choose shy cats.  Apparently, only social, pliant animals are deserving of our affection because they fulfill our selfish desire for love and obeisance in return.

After three months, she finally realized that she wasn't in imminent danger of being devoured, and she allowed me to touch her.  It was thrilling!  I had courted her and watched her with love and spoken to her in a soft voice for so long; to pet her was like receiving a rare gift.  It's always like this with her.  It took her a year to be able to stand still in my presence, and another year for her to feel comfortable sprawling on the floor in the same room.  She has become sleek and healthy and gently rounded.  She is a quiet (except when we're eating dinner), wild thing, so beautiful and dainty.  When she asks us for pets, it's such a special thing to realize that we are the only two people in the world that she loves.