Lost compadres and the Myopic Mind
There are moments in this life that pass through the looking glass of objection, ridicule, meter and fly off the grid of tempo into a beatless universe.
Some allies rise and fall alongside you, as the battle is being fought, won, regretted and trudged through.
But others stay the course. They never leave your side, even in the face of the most Godless storm with a fierce, spinning eye.
Some of those are like Luca.
Although Luca was only a 5 or 6-year-old tabi kitty with a strong character, she was a force.
I never cared for pets until I met Luca.
And then I got it. It sunk in.
Sometimes, in the mornings in Ottawa, and although she never did this for anybody else, she would let out this weepy coo - almost like a soft cry. And sometimes, I'd wake up and then call her name and she'd stop the noise and come in from another room, and then show up on the bed near my feet, or near my face while I tried to sleep.
It was almost as if she needed to know that you were there to feel comfort and to go about her sleepy, pouncy, naturalistic feline day.
At another point along the timeline of our sleepy centretown villa, Luca left us for a while.
She ventured downtown and several streets away during a rainstorm.
We thought she was lost forever.
Four days later, I got a call from an old lady while working at Ecclesiax.
I thought she was dead...but the old cat woman, who had four of her own, was keeping Luca sequestered in a front room of her house with some food and water, because she wouldn't play nice with the other frisky critters.
Luca was her own cat. No one owned her.
In the tumultuous times of this wavy age, where we can barely trust our closest kin with a nickelsworth of secrets or our best pals with a dime of despair, Luca never let anybody down.
She never betrayed me and she never asked for anything in return.
Just the odd cuddle, face-rub, feeding and someone to open the door so that she could explore the squirrels, grass, birds and the world she understood. That was about it.
Even though I'm a lucid and sentient human being, I even had a few chats with Luca, and believe it or not, I think she may have actually understood me.
I'll miss you, pal.
It is universally hard to deal with loss on any level.
There's something inexplicably sad about losing a good soul. It somehow knocks the wind out of our collective consciousness, and maybe even makes us lose a bit of faith.
All of these fallen soldiers and ghosty remembrances line the hallways of our memories, and after a short while, we even start to forget what they look like.
We always have photos, sure - but there is something untraceable about the movements and liveliness of a living being.
Something that will never be regained. Something that is gone for good.
And through the sadness and the truth of this life, we must venture on.
If a gone soul were to continually show up in living form, we'd all be forever haunted and unable to recoup the expenses of our bankrupt existences.
Because I think it has to be said that wherever they all go, wherever they all end up, and wherever they travelled through to get to where they are now...
They are still there. Watching us. Wanting us to know that it's going to be alright.
Our family members.
Our lost compadres.
We can't lose sight.