Crying is wonderful II

Truly, I cry to much, but crying is wonderful.

My 18 year old cat started having seizures. She's lived a long full life, and even now her, almost definite, brain tumor doesn't seem to bother her much. Last night she was mewing loudly, and I found her standing in a doorway, convulsing and meowing. What could I do but pet her, she doesn't like being held, so I could only stoop down next her and pet her. I foolishly asked her what was wrong and what could I do to help. She looked at me and I could tell she was so scared, so confused as to what was happening to her. I tried to explain, but the tears were obscuring my view of her. As she wandered around the house aimlessly my stomach knotted up as the sadness worked it's way down my body. Eventually we made our way over to our couch, where I collapsed in pain and Kristy jumped up on my chest and looked at me with those scared eyes. I cried for a long time while she slept on my chest.

This was the awful hurtful crying, the kind that doesn't end when the movie does, the kind that no matter how hard I try I can't stop the pain. That I feel the emotion so intensely not only does it affect my eyes but my whole body. I think this is the most wonderful crying of all, to care for something so deeply that mind and body react in concert, that they are so completely synchronized that they effect each other completely. Petting Kristy had a small but steady calming effect, while each new twitch or meow sent daggers to my heart and renewed the dampness on my face and my increasingly wet beard.