All of my other posts to date have been very healing. But the last post, about the actual assault, hasn’t.
It’s possibly my own bad call here. Clinically Clueless has been gently suggesting that I don’t push myself to write about it til I’m ready.
But because I wasn’t coming out of yesterday’s PTSD episode easily, I stayed up and finished writing it. It’s been in draught format for some time, but I hadn’t gotten to the end of the story yet. Because it’s emotionally draining to write, and since I was already in trauma mode, I thought… why not just get it out now instead of bringing these feelings on again some other time?
So I don’t know if the reason I’m still feeling crappy is because I pushed myself, or if it’s the residual PTSD. I keep using meditation and other techniques to keep myself in balance but this is the worst I’ve felt for a long while.
To bring some light back to my blog, I thought I’d share a few pictures of my wonderful little matey – Cleopatra the Cat. Or Cleo for short.
Whilst I have many supportive friends/family, my fuzzy fur ball girl is the one who’s been there with me every step of the way. She knows when I’m upset – and she won’t leave my side.
When I push everyone and everything else aside, she’s still there. Still trying to get pats. Still checking to see how I am. She gets very concerned when I’m distressed.
I chose Cleo from the Lort Smith Animal Hospital when she was 18 months old. Or rather, she chose me. I wasn’t even looking for a cat the day my now ex-boyfriend (before Andre) and I walked into the pound. His previous cat was run over by a car a few months prior, and it was time for him to choose a new friend.
Cleo was one of the first cats I looked at but my ex didn’t want her because she looked a lot like his recently deceased kitty. Also, she was really shy and backed away from initial contact.
But sitting on the floor of the pound, playing with various other cats… she put her paw out on the door of her cage and gave a sweet little ‘meow’. I let her out, and she came and lay down between my outstretched legs.
That was it, she had me.
Except, I didn’t have a home at that time! I’d only recently moved back to Melbourne and I was living between my ex’s place and my sister’s.
Honey, how do you feel about living with two cats for a while?
I named her Cleo for her beautiful ‘eye makeup’. It reminded me of the kohl eyeliner closely associated with Cleopatra. Also, the way she moves is very haughty, like a princess or a queen.
So Cleopatra it was, with a convenient shortened version for every day use.
She’s a big cat, and very cuddly. Not really a lap kitty, but she loves to lie right next to me or have just one of her legs touching mine. Or, if I’m lying on the couch she sits on the armrest just above my head, leaning into me.
Cleo purrs really loudly. If I get the grooming brush out the purring gets a little hysterical sounding, she loves it so much! And she’s funny. She’s very good at making me laugh with her kitten-like antics, which is rather amusing from a 6kg cat!
I took her to see a professional groomer this week, coz she had a few dags that she just wouldn’t let me touch! The groomer works out of a vet clinic, so she had a little day trip there whilst I was at work.
The picture below is what she looks like if her coat gets out of control! A total butterball!!
When I came to pick her up, I discovered all my worrying about her during the day was unnecessary because all of the vet’s assistants had lavished lots of love and affection on her. My lovely Cleo had won them over!
It’s a great thing, to have a pet.
Do you have a story about your pet – cat, dog or otherwise – that’s been there for you in hard times? If so, leave me a link in the comments and I’ll add it to this post. Our animal friends sure know how to take care of us in times of need!