A Visit From a Fairy

BOOM, BOOM, BOOM!

At first, it hardly woke me. It’s usually pretty difficult to rouse me from sleep, unless it’s an usual, or possibly threatening noise. It was both. Someone was banging on my door entirely too early for me to be up on a Sunday morning.

I have to preface this. I don’t live in a great neighborhood. It’s not too bad because it’s not very violent. We have a lot of drugs, delinquent teens, vandalism, homelessness, and petty theft. And crackheads.

When someone comes banging on my door without calling, I automatically assume I don’t want to answer it. Really, I was too tired to care.

BANG, BANG, BANG!

Ugh. It was enough to wake C.S., who was less pleased than I was. He went to investigate. I laid there awhile longer and heard a male talking. I huffed and got out of bed. Oh well, there went my hope of sleep.

I expected to find C.S. talking with the person he greeted at the door. Instead, I ran into him in the kitchen. I asked, “Who was it?” He rolled his eyes and said, “Some crazy looking blonde haired woman. Probably a crackhead. She’s outside talking to your dad in the back.” (Figures. My dad is the only person whose voice could carry through thick wooden, heavily insulated walls. Well, except mine.)

I looked out the window and knew the woman. I corrected C.S. and said, “That’s Nina!” Nina is our local animal rights activist. She’s infamous for taking in all manner of animals. She practically runs a foster home out of her house!

Chris said eagerly, “Poke your head down the window and yell out to them!”

“I’ll go down after I use the restroom and grab a smoke. You yell out.” (I’m not often pleasant in the morning.)

I was about to open the door to go down into the backyard when there was a knock at the side door. I opened the door and saw Nina’s face through the storm door. When I opened the storm door, I was shocked!

There Nina stood with a tiny calico – tabby mix kitten in her arms.

“C.S., come here!”

Nina had heard the news about Zen. In the same week, a cat had abandoned this kitten on Nina’s doorstep. Nina said, “I don’t have any more room. The winter’s coming and I’m afraid she’ll die.” We couldn’t refuse. She’s tiny, helpless, without her mother, and without a home.

I held her in my arms and she cried. But when C.S. held her and spoke, she went silent. She stared into his eyes like he was God. They were silent for a moment and he said, “Her name is Lexis. Wait, Alexis.” She chose her human.

We called it our visit from the Kitten Fairy.

The pain of losing Zen is still there. I was his human and he was my kitten. Alexis and I will probably not have the same kind of relationship.

But, I feel a little better. Out of that senseless tragedy, I was able to give this beautiful baby, who was sentenced to death, a loving home.

Zylexus – born 8/16/2011

Not a Five Star Day

I mentioned to Brandon in the comment section of RIP Zen 9-12-2011 about going through the Kubler-Ross Five Stages of Grieving.

1. Denial and Isolation
I didn’t immediately go to this one.  My immediate response was this deep sense of loss, with hysterical crying.  But, I did come back to this one later.

Yesterday, I swore I heard meowing in the house.  I swore I saw his shadows in the house.  Today, I looked to where his food bowl was.  I tried to make sure that he wasn’t running past me when I was leaving for work and coming back home.  I swear I saw him laying on my bed.  I keep thinking I’m going to run into him on the bathroom and see him spawled out on the bath mat.

2. Anger
I was so infuriated that someone would do this to a kitten.  To my kitten.  I was enraged that this person could walk free and suffer no consequence.  I wanted vengence.  “If I ever find out who did this, I will take a baseball bat to their knees.  They’ll have the rest of their life to think about it while they’re in a wheelchair,” I said in a IRL Facebook post.

3. Bargaining
During the original hysteria, I went to this one.  “I was going to call him in before bed.  Why didn’t I call him in?  If I would’ve called him in…” and “Maybe if I would’ve been a little more proactive.  Maybe if they had seen he was wearing a tag, they wouldn’t have hurt him.”  and  “I knew I shouldn’t have let him go out at night.  I knew it wasn’t safe.”

4. Depression
Don’t get concerned.  I am not actually depressed.  I know what bipolar depression is all too well.  This is bereavement.  I was devestated yesterday. Today, I’m sad, but this isn’t an episode.  It’s kind of ohnoui – a French term for just feeling generally down.

5. Acceptance
I find ways to accept it.  I’ve told myself, “Nothing I can say or do will ever bring him back”.  Yesterday, I did those graphics.  As it stands, one of those graphics is my current IRL FB profile picture.  Today, I made a beautiful yarn bracelet, with his tag on it.  Tomorrow, I intend to trek out to my backyard and find a stone that would be suitable to carve as a grave marker.

I keep cycling through these.  It makes it a little hard to concentrate.  I’m not focusing and in some instances, I don’t really have anything constructive to say.  So, if I’m not replying to your recent posts, don’t take it personally.  I just don’t have a lot to give right now.
I leave you with this.

RIP Zen 9-12-2011

This will be updated throughout the day as I become a little more coherent.

Last night, someone in my neighborhood brutally murdered my kitten, Zen. They did so with a baseball bat. Today, my kitten was found on the sidewalk behind my house.


Update: 2:45PM EST
I couldn’t bring myself to go out there. I didn’t want to remember his corpse. I wanted to remember his beautiful olive, shining eyes and his black little nose. My dad offered. He worked Graves’ Registration in Vietnam. Death is something he can handle.

Before he could do it, Zen’s body was found by a loving neighbor who buried him. She gave him a final resting place in her own yard. I plan on carving a stone to mark it.


He was the sweetest, most social kitten in the world. He never tried to hurt anyone, and never even hissed at anyone. He was my baby and my best friend. He cuddled with me at night. When I would cry, he would retract his claws and paw my face to wipe the tears away. He always knew when there was something wrong, and he would do anything in the world to make it better. I loved him like family.

Today, all I have of him are his belongings and my memories. And all of the tears I’ve cried for him.

He was a baby, only 7 months old. He was murdered on his 7 month birthday. What kind of cruel, sick, vile, evil, fucking piece of shit monster would do that to the sweetest baby kitten? They deliberately did it! No one just carries a baseball bat! They killed my little kitty in cold blood!

I am so torn up about this. I loved him. I really did. And I have no idea how I can possibly honor a creature who had such a short existence in my life but made such a profound impact. How do I avenge him? How could I ever make this right?

I loved him. I loved him with my whole heart. And I miss him so much. I will never forget him.