Stacy Horn

I wonder if I’m alone in this? One of the things I’ve been doing since Buddy died is obsessing about all the decisions I made about his care and what I could have done differently. It’s insane but it’s a common response to death.

Then I thought, ‘What if I had somehow managed to buy him a couple more months?’ Let’s say it’s October and he’s just died. What would I have gained? What would he have gained? I think it would feel like those two months never happened. Don’t get me wrong, I would give anything for two more months, I’m just saying that had I gotten them, in October I would not be appreciating them, I’d be exactly where I am now.

The only response is what we’re always told to do: appreciate the moment you have now. IE, in October, those two months wouldn’t do me any good. But they would have been great as they happened.

A Ted Talk that made me feel happy for a few minutes.

Some photographs that blew my mind for a few minutes.

Yesterday I asked Finney, “Who’s the cutest cat in the whole wide world?” In the past, whenever I’ve asked him this I always followed it with, “You are! Tied with Buddy, of course.” But yesterday it was just, “You are.”

It’s been very rough. I’ve been going through the motions, although I have to say, going through the motions helps even if I don’t get any pleasure from them.

For instance, I’ve been swimming a couple of times. I haven’t been able to work myself up to swimming as much as I normally would, but when I swim, even though I don’t enjoy it, I feel less devastated afterwards. The endorphins are doing their job in a different way. Instead of bringing joy, they lessen the pain.

Finney seems fine. He’s getting more attention and of course he’s happy about that. I guess he’s always been waiting to become the king of the desk. Oh that doctor thing is just for a standard yearly checkup. I’m fine!

Molly Ringwald once said some very nice things to me about my book Waiting For My Cats to Die (we met at a party). I remember her comments immediately made me think: she wants to write.

Well, her first novel, When It Happens to You, came out this month. Congratulations! It seems to be getting mixed reviews, but that’s fine. All my books do. Waiting For My Cats to Die has alternately been described as funny and heartwarming and as the most depressing book the reviewer had ever read.

One of Ringwald’s mixed reviews sold me however, and here’s why. Everyone who reads my blog knows my cat Buddy just died. A friend, who meant well, told me that it might be good to remember at this time that there are a lot worse things than losing a cat. I wanted to tell him, as a friend, to never say anything like that to a grieving person again.

One of the stories in When It Happens to You is about grief. I don’t know what kind of grief, but the reviewer says this:

When it happens to you, the narrator explains, you will not be comforted by reminding yourself of real tragedies, of floods and earthquakes and land mines. “Your heart doesn’t think,” Ringwald writes. “Your heart is stupid. It doesn’t consider the relativity of tragedy when it breaks.”

Amen, Molly. The heart can’t weigh which grief merits how much mourning. It just breaks. I would buy the book based on that insight alone. What others are saying about her book:

“When It Happens to You is absolutely lovely, a smart, emotionally sophisticated, intricately dovetailed novel of stories. World, I’m telling you now: Molly Ringwald is the real deal.” (Lauren Groff, author of Arcadia )

“Molly Ringwald’s eight electric stories are alive with Joycean insight-piercing, epiphanic moments of terror, humor, and transcendence. Together they offer a deeply moving portrait of modern life.” (Eleanor Henderson, author of Ten Thousand Saints )

Ringwald also wrote an interesting and thoughtful op-ed comparing writing to acting.
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I took this yesterday while I was doing the laundry. I’m comforted when the weather matches my feelings. Sunshine is an insult. Tonight I’m going to a pet bereavement group. Hopefully. I was told to call first in case it gets cancelled.

I can’t bring myself to get rid of my land line. It’s mostly due to 9/11 and black outs. Land lines keep working no matter what. Also, the sound quality is so much better than cell phones.

But when all is said and done I use it very little and it’s costing me $75 a month. I emailed Verizon about how I could bring the price down. They said if I get rid of all the features, caller id, call waiting, and voice mail, I could bring the price down to $46. That still sounded like an awful lot for something I don’t use a lot and now has zero extras. I asked them to break down the charges.

They sent me this:

Verizon Freedom Value Price Guarantee $24.99
Existing Inside Wire Maintenance $7.99
Verizon Freedom Value Price Guarantee FUSF LD $1.06
Taxes, Fees and Other Service Tax $12.22

Estimated Monthly Charges $46.26.

I love the use of “Freedom” in their name for things. I asked them to explain why they are not competitive. They didn’t answer that and suggested this:

“If the overall monthly cost is your main priority, you can change your service to Measured Rate plus remove the Inside Wire Maintenance Plan and long distance. Your monthly after tax rate would be approximately $25.50 per month plus 9 cents per local call.”

I’m going to look at my usage for the past few months and mull this over.

I went out for a walk yesterday and visited a truck the ASPCA had set up outside a church on Houston Street. I was not tempted. Then I walked up to the Petco in Union Square, which also has cats. There was one very sweet cat which gave me a look. I don’t want to get a cat. Finney is old , I think I explained, and he would not appreciate a new cat around the house. But I wanted to get a glimpse into the future, when I would be happy again. I didn’t really get that, but it was a good try I thought.

I’m thinking I can’t post about Buddy every day, although I want to. I keep coming up with different ways to torture myself, and today it’s about all the signs I must have missed which led to increased suffering and earlier death. I’m going to call my vet to go over everything, but I’m afraid he’ll think this is about what he missed.

But about Bunheads. Are you all watching yet? It’s on the way to becoming a really good show, and, more importantly, it makes me feel good.

The finale was positively enchanting. The quality of enchantment is my favorite in books, movies, tv, paintings, everything, and it is difficult to achieve without veering off into sentimentality or something overly romanticized. You have to be honest to get there, and you have to resist going a little too far in whatever direction you’re going. There were moments of enchantment all through the finale, but the best was probably Boo standing up at the microphone to apologize to Carl. The whole thing was an exercise in enchantment. She starts to go too far, and Fanny tells Michele to rescue her, and Michele jumps up. But Boo doesn’t go too far. She says all the right, honest things, and then she and Carl dance to a wonderful version of The Rainbow Connection (Weezer, I learned).

I made myself leave the apartment last night. I walked down to the river and stared out into the water, and for about five minutes it seemed like I’d made the right decision. I didn’t feel good, but it felt better to feel bad out there in the open, with life all around me, and the smell and the feel of the water, and the darkening sky.

But there were at least five different party boats out in the river playing at least five different loud, thumping, bad music and very quickly it turned into this horrible cacophony and I had to leave. I don’t know how I’m going to spend my weekend.