tracylovesdevons's blog

I do not even know where or how to start. So many good things happening here. First great thing is friends. When I lost Spaz, I got so many wonderful emails from friends and people I didn't even know. I cannot begin to tell you how much that meant and still means to me. Two people especially stand out--Amaya and Mel. Amaya is a devon breeder in Oregon. Years ago I heped her get started with these cats, and we became friends. When she learned about Spaz's disappearance, she went so far as consulting a psychic to try to find him. She later offered me Spaz's sister for comfort. And she even offered me her stud to get my queen pregnant. It was enormously important for me, I see now, to think of the future--whether it meant another Gentry cat or kittens of my own. And life does go on after loss, though my life here will never be the same after knowing Spaz.

It didn't work for Teeny to breed with Pony Pants, but through the generosity of Amaya and her good friend Robyn at Catasourus Rex, Igor from Koro bred with Teen and we might have kittens born here in December. I thank both Robyn and Amaya for their efforts there. And Igor of course. He's a beautiful van boy from Judy's cattery back east. Yea for us!!!

And then there is Mel, from Seattle. She has another Gentry cat named Atlantis. I remember seeing his pictures on Anna's blog when he was born. He's a very beautiful blue or blue mink boy. Mel and I have never met, and had then only commented on each other's blogs about cats, when out of the blue she offered me her boy. I still get choked up thinking of this. I thought she was just being nice, but not serious. When I came to my senses and asked her why she would do such a crazy thing, she said "Because I think you need him right now more than I do."

I was in Bethel at the time she made this offer. And sometimes I get so caught up in all the things wrong with the world. All the crimes and wars and drugs and murder. Then there is a really really generous offer from someone who doesn't know me from Eve. Anna said that it was a good reminder to always pay it forward. And I hadn't thought of that either. But it's true: sometimes doing something selfless is the most amazing thing of all.

There have been other people who helped me get through the loss of Spaz. Sophie from Vancouver, who also consulted a psychic on Spaz's behalf. My friend Chris, who made me a cedar box in which to put pictures and keepsakes of Spaz. Amy who walked all over the 'hood with me to try to find him. And of course Anna, who bred that beautiful boy and all of the other Gentry kittens who delight their families.

So I guess I just want to say thank you to all the people who offered me support during the last couple of months. I hope you never know the heartbreak of losing a pet before his time.

And the other story I wanted to tell here has been told by us now for over a week, but I still want to write it here, if I can.

Mark surprised me a couple of months ago by buying tickets to our favorite band Wilco--in Dallas. Mark's mother and whole family still live in the Dallas area, so it was a good way to both celebrate our 20th and go see family. Our good friends Chris and Amy, the ones who turned us on to Wilco in the first place, were going to come along too. How perfect was that?!  We had to hit some thrift stores before the concert to get some good country western rockabilly outlandish clothing. Mark got a sleezy gold shirt from the thrift store and Chris got a beautiful vintage western shirt for 6xs that amount. But we were all ready for the show.

 

Ohhh finally a picture. Here is Amy, Chris (in his vintage shirt) me and Mark--all gold and shiny outside by his mom's pool in Dallas. We took the light rail down town, where Mark was already getting compliments on his shirt. We could never tell though whether or not people were being serious or mocking him.

As a side note: there was a lovely woman on the light rail who read, no I mean seriously studied a coloring book the whole way downtown. What was that about? Just a random weird thing.

When we were inside the Palladium in Dallas, we never lost our place up front when we went to go get a beer because all we had to do was look for the shiny gold beacon. That was Mark.

Well the concert was awesome. Wilco is the most amazing band. As Sean kept saying of Wilco--they're the real deal. They're perfect. Nils. Wow. His solo in "Handshake Drugs" transported me away. Or maybe just made me entirely present. And Glenn Kotche. He's the man. He's not a drummer really--he's a genius. Every member of the band is fabulous. At one point a security guard stood on the rails at the front of the crowd obviously looking for someone smoking pot. Jeff Tweedy was making fun of him saying "I think the fashion police is looking for someone. It's gotta be the guy in the gold lame shirt."

Suddenly spotlights are on Mark. We are stunned. Mark said he knew then exactly what he was going to do. He motioned to Tweedy "Switch shirts with me!" The crowd pushed Mark forward and they both start taking off their shirts. Then Mark sees Glenn, knows that he is my hero and says "I want Glenn's shirt" (for me of course. What a guy!) but Glenn flips him the bird and as someone on youtube pointed out, Mark DID get me something from Glenn--the finger! Then Tweedy said to Mark, "Do you still want my shirt? It's from H and M" whatever that is. And they changed shirts. Here's one of the videos of this event.

 

Hope that link works. Hilarious.

After the show, people had their pictures taken with Mark in Tweedy's shirt, people offered to buy it, and we just kept laughing and laughing. It was the best night ever. It was our first live Wilco concert, our 20th anniversary celebration, and Mark got to wear home a very aromatic shirt owned by Jeff Tweedy. Wow. You cannot beat that.

Hey I found some more pics of the night and so you're gonna have to see these too:

 

Here's Lilly in his vintage shirt. He was kind of bummed he didn't get to swap shirts with Tweedy. But his shirt cost more, so I don't know if he would have done it....

 

Some people just have to be in the spotlight....

 

I'm serious that we laughed all night.

 

And laughed and laughed. Here is Lilly blowing up their air mattress. We were still laughing when we got home. I thought Amy would pee her pants.

 

Here's Tweedy in Mark's shirt.

We really should get out of Seldovia more. This was fun. But I'm sooooooooo glad to be home now.

We actually have wood before the winter comes. Wow. This picture is for my mother, who will be so proud of us.

Mark got a new chainsaw blade in Homer. And then we borrowed a splitter from buddy Chris down the hill. We have a whole corral full of wood. Wowweeee. We have a really long learning curve.

 

This is my friend Diane who lives and teaches in Bethel. She made this cool beaded fish for an auction and her boss bought it to put on display at the campus in Bethel. Here's another pic of it close up.

Diane said she also called this work "The Salmon Whisperer." Sweet!

Here is where 8 sled dogs live in Bethel. I could see them from the window of my B & B, Grr8 Bear (an awesome place to stay, in case you go to Bethel). I started getting obsessed with them, and how they get very little human contact. Once a day a woman would come out and feed them their food, but I never saw her touch them. They were so happy to see her they just went nuts. But I have to say, that's completely foreign to me. To me, they seemed like they were prisoners. I wanted to let them into my b&b and snuggle with them in bed. I know that's a bad idea. They are sled dogs. I guess they do get to run in the winter. They are work animals. I'm from a different world.

And here are some more dogs who lead a different life than the sled dogs. This is Ruffian and Sea Biscuit, dogs who live with my friend Diane in Bethel. Ruffian could have been a sled dog too, but you can see here that she's instead a pet.

Pretty girl!!! She had a bad beginning of her life too, but now lives with Diane and this handsome man, who really should have his own talk show.

I kept thinking that he would start asking me questions like Comic Insult Dog. He's getting a little white around the chin. He's the coolest!!! He was also a rescue dog and now lives the life of Riley. Here Ruffian is getting her instructions for the day from him. She looks a bit intimidated by those piercing blue eyes.

The newest angel from Victoria's Secret:

 

Holy Moly that pic came out so teeny. My friend Ruth in Anchorage sent it to me. This is Thing, who is a bit modest I guess and won't come out of the bag to model her new skivvies. Thanks Ruth!

Here is what Mark brought instead of tent poles. Seemed like a great idea at the time....

When I just now looked at this pic, it reminded me of how Mark's lost 4 pairs of glasses in a little over a year. These glasses, the only ones he had left, sunglasses, blew off in the morning's windstorm. I think we should get him lasiks to save ourselves from his losing more glasses. We shot a ton of these pictures, each one worse than the last. But geez we thought we were freakin hilarious that night.

Right back to Red Mountain. Here are some pics from our trip last weekend. It was a gorgeous day on Sunday--sunny, warm, not windy.

 

After hiking for a few hours, we set up our tent. Mark forgot the stakes. No need he said. We'll make due. Then he scambled to the top of this nearby mtn. and mooned us. This is how far away it was really.

He's insane. By this time, Aidan and I were in the tent reading and hiding from the bugs.

Chloe was digging being on an all-day marmot hunt.

Scully was a good sport, despite having sore pads from rock-climbing. Really we were having a blast.

Mark gave us long lectures on the 2 world wars and how they started. Well he gave Aidan the lectures and I learned lots. For instance, follow Mark or else you will get lost. On the way back from our hike to look at some waterfalls, I managed to travel quite a distance away from camp, which bummed me out. I was beat. Here are some more random pics of the area.

 

 

That pic above is of the wind tunnel we camped in. We didn't know it was a wind tunnel until about 3 am when the tent pole broke. Mark decided it would be best to take the tent down so the other poles wouldn't break. Then the 3 of us and Scully (Chloe was having none of the tent by this time) had to try to sleep with the tent on us like a death shroud.

In the morning, we got up cold and wet and beat feet out of there to get home to our warm beds.

I thought I would post some pictures I took yesterday of our trip to Red Mountain. This place is about 14.5 miles from our house, so when Amy and I biked there a couple of weeks ago, we actually logged 29 miles round trip. We are so awesome! People used to mine chromium there years ago, and now people in Seldovia recreate there. It's our mecca in the summer.

Here's Aidan threatening to shove Mark into the stream of icy water. Later they dared each other to jump in from this rock and ultimately succeeded in taunting me to do the same. It was family underwear day at Red Mountain. (Sounds kinky--totally wasn't.)

We hiked up this hill earlier too. My kid and I are both afraid of heights so rather than walk back on this skinny trail that wanted to suck us over the edge, we took the plunge and just came straight down on the boulders. Took us a long time, but Scully stuck with us.

 

That's Scully taking a swim over to Mark. She needed a bath anyway.

Next is the lovely and very disobedient Chloe. She's not so disobedient I guess as she is her own bitch. She does whatever the hell she feels like doing.

And here's a picture of me and the kid, who is so caught between trying to grow up into a cool teenager and still being his mama's boy. He pretends I'm torturing him, but really he loves to be close to me. Well to both of us really.

 

for all of your positive thoughts and prayers and hard work in helping me find Spaz. He is not home yet, but I am continuing the search. Because our town is so small, between 300 and 400 people in all, I think that almost everyone in town and out the road knows that he is missing. This means I have more eyes looking out for him, and it means that almost everyone stops me to ask about him. And of course this is both wonderful and sad at the same time. I sometimes make it through a day without crying, but most times I don't. One of our best friends and neighbors, Chris aka Lilly aka Scro' made me a lovely cedar box, in case Spaz never comes back. He said I can put Spaz's pictures and toys and a can of Fancy Feast in it and we can bury it in the Sacred Grove, at the top of our hill. Of course I am in no way ready yet for this. I don't even say the "d" word yet in relation to Spaz. But it was awfully sweet of him to make it for me/Spaz.

Chris and Amy's dog Stella has a special relationship with Spaz, who is not afraid of anything or any dog. They play together at our house lots.

Here's another older pic of Spaz hanging out with a bunch of orientals. That's his love Pop Pop that he's laying on. See him smiling? I looked for a pic of Spaz and Stella but couldn't find one.

The other thing I have been doing is playing stupid grieving games with myself. You know, like in college when you read Elizabeth Kubhler Ross's book on dying? She wrote that most people go through stages when dealing with loss: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. (I think that's right--it's off the top of my head.) I used to never understand bargaining. But now I live in bargaining. For instance: I would pay double Spaz's price from his breeder yesterday. In a heartbeat. Anytime anywhere. Just to have him back. Then I think what body part would I cut off? A finger? Probably. An arm. I don't know. Then I get pissed off that I'm even thinking this way. Who would I sleep with in town? That's a sick one too. But I've gone there as well. I won't speculate further. The point is, I wonder who I'm making deals with? And really, is this at all helpful?

So I'll just keep looking and listening and hoping.

That's a frequent refrain in one of my favorite books, The Cider House Rules by John Irving. I re-read it every few years. And I haven't read it recently, but that's the only thing I can think to say about my life now. I'm waiting and seeing if Spaz will show up here alive. I have put off writing this entry because it's so not real to me yet. And really I hope it never gets real. Last Monday on the 17th of August Mark came back in the house from the outhouse. When he opened the door, Spaz darted out, clearly plotting his escape. Mark tried to get him back in the house for awhile, making the meat noise he does when he gives the cats meat, and chasing him around the yard. He gave up, thinking I'd be home soon and Spaz would come back inside when I got here.

Well he didn't. In fact we haven't seen him since. I have spent hours and hours and hours on foot and bike and in the car, combing the neighborhood and hills around us for signs of Spaz. Nothing. All of the neighbors have helped search, from that first few hours he was missing until now. I have posters up all over town with his pictures and story of when he went missing. I have called friends and acquaintances within a couple mile radius, as well as the shelter in Homer and the vet's clinic there. I have had friends from out of the state and country consult psychics on Spaz's behalf to see if they had an idea about where he might be or what happened to him. The end result is the same though. He's not here. I don't know what else to do now except hope and wait and see.

I am heartbroken and obsessed. I cry at work and home. Some days I can't get out of bed. Other days I am still optimistic and continue the search for him. Pop Pop is sure confused and has started barfing. The other cats seem shocked in the mornings when they don't have to run for cover because Spaz is ripping through the house spilling coffee and leaping from the furniture. I miss him pawing at my hoodie, trying to get into his favorite napping place against my chest. I miss him sleeping on my pillow at night. I even miss him jumping on my back while I'm bent over cleaning the litter box. His is such a giant personality that it doesn't seem possible that he's not alive anymore. I know he's not my child, and it's not as bad as losing a human child, but he's still my baby man and a big part of this family.

Please think of him and help him get back home safely to me.