Friday, April 27, 2012

The Most Difficult Story to Tell

Dear Loyal Readers,

Ugh! I have been dreading writing this letter and, as I type, I am crying so hard I can barely breathe.

In December, I entered rehab for alcoholism. The difficulty that led to the decision to get help was very difficult to digest. My life was out of control; I needed to get it back.

When I left, my parents took Kukka-Maria and Brach. They tried to find someone who could take care of them until April, when I returned. While they tried so hard, they were unable to find anyone who was in a position to care for them. It was a difficult decision for them, but they took them to a no-kill shelter that placed them up for adoption.

When they told me, I broke down. I had both of them since they were kittens. The thought of living without them was unbearable. Through my struggle with alcohol, my family and friends created distance. Kukka and Brach never did. At times, it seemed as though they were my only friends. Their unconditional love was immeasurable.

I am hyperventilating. Writing this is harder than I imagined, as I know you love them, as well.

I understood I was not in a position to care for them. Through my addiction, I had become a monster that valued alcohol over anything else.

About 3 weeks ago, I was shopping and walked by a pet store who was hosting a cat adoption event. I walked past, resisting the urge to go in. I returned, realizing that seeing cats would be a huge part of my recovery. I noticed there were more adult cats than kittens. As I walked past the cages, I began to cry. The woman hosting the event approached me, asking what was wrong. I explained the story and my grief. I told her how they are 12 and 11 years old and how I was worried they wouldn't be adopted at that age, since they were no longer cute, fluffy, tiny kittens.

Another woman, who also worked for the adoption agency, came over and said, "I was eavesdropping and heard your story. Were your cats dark gray/black striped with white and tan colored with white?" I  told her they were and she went on to tell me she fostered Kukka and Brach. They were adopted--together--by a family with kids.

I cried even harder. My heart believed her, but my head thought she was just telling me this to calm me down and send me away at peace. I thought about it after leaving the store and realized I hadn't told her what my cats looked like. SHE told ME.

I choose to believe her story. It is my hope they are bringing the new family joy. If they love their new family half how they loved me, that family is more fortunate then they can imagine.

Here is what I will miss the most about Exiled Empress Kukka-Maria:
  • Her meow, pleading for treats, sounded like "Mom? Mom? Mom?"
  • She would sleep in my "kneepits" at night and how, when wanting to turn over, I would contort my body so not to wake her.
  • She would subtly bully Brach when he was sleeping. She would bathe his ears and face, his eyes, closing with ecstasy, then she would bite the back of his neck until he moved. She would then look at me while sinking down for a his warm sleeping spot.
  • Her pretty pink nose and paw-pads.

Here is what I will miss most about Brach O'Lee:

  • His saggy belly would swing to and fro while running toward the kitchen for treats.
  • He was obsessed with eating plants and flowers...whether alive or silk.
  • He would play fetch with a hair band. I would sit on my bed and toss it into the hallway. He would scramble out the door, grab it, flop on his side while kicking at it with his hind legs, and then bring it back for a second round.
  • His soft white belly and caramel-colored eyes.

Please read the various stories in the archive. I will post links to some of my favorites in the next couple of days. Do you have a favorite?

Thank you for all the years of support and admiration for two beautiful beings I was so fortunate to share with you.

If only they knew all the crazy stories I wrote in their names...

With tears and appreciation,
Courtney Macha, The Agent

Friday, September 09, 2011

Back to School

I see pictures on the interwebs showing children on their first day of school and I feel gypped. These kids look happy with their backpacks, boarding a big, yellow babysitter. I am home schooled, so I am missing out on the glee that is the first day of school.
The morning after Labor Day is the first day of school in Michigan. The Governor passed a bill that made it so. Apparently, tourism dollars were lost when school started before the holiday.

I don't get it. People are always boarding tour busses to get a glimpse of my home! No matter what day of the year. Of course, I refuse to share those profits with the state, so I guess it makes sense.

The first day of school was terrible for me. First of all, Brach got sick. All over the floor. He was so psyched about the day, he ate his food without chewing. Ass! So, the morning began with The Agent cleaning up his moderately-digested food from the floor. She was not happy. With good reason!

Then I had issues with the flat iron. I thought I had it set on 15, but, as my fur began smoking, I realized it was on 30. Waaaaaay too hot! I needed to look foxy for the first day of school in my own livingroom! After all, paparazzi were lingering to capture my special day.

So, with singed fur, I went downstairs. With a nervous look towards The Agent and a don't-you-dare-say-anything-about-my-hairdo look towards Brach, I was ready to learn.

But, why no big, yellow babysitter? Why couldn't I have a school bus transport me from my bedroom to the livingroom?! The Agent explained that it was not necessary because I wasn't leaving the house.


Of course, I passed my entry exams and of course, I was a star student.

The Agent keeps saying that, by my age, I'm about the 7th grade level. She says she expects shouting matches, crying jags, and slamming of doors as I head into teenager waters.

So to sum up, I singed my hair. Brach horfed. I was resentful that I didn't get luxury, yellow transportation, and my mom started a fight with me that ended in tears and a slammed door.

All in all, it was a good day.

My fur will recover.

Monday, August 01, 2011

Where's Kukka?

Hint: Look behind the shower curtain.

Tuesday, July 19, 2011

Tuesday, June 07, 2011

Red Flags Fly

Sometimes you need help from the experts.
Even though I have a husband, I need to
maintain the health of my dating life!

Thursday, June 02, 2011

Sunbathing in Stages

So what if my husky and sturdy bootie causes an eclipse!