Pynchon

I don't intend to flog a dead horse with this whole Ben thing, but I feel the need to write a little more.

I have not had to deal with grief for a long time. The last time for me was eleven years ago when my Dog, Q, died. Lorraine has had less luck than me. Since the end of the 90's she has lost her Mom, her Gran, her other cat Stalin (a poker faced, manipulative Siamese that adopted me the second I walked into Lorraine's house for the first time - I liked him a lot, but never lived with him, and was not around when he left us), and an Aunt and an Uncle (don't know their names).

It's easy to write about somebody else's grief. It's not so easy to write about your own. You can refer to somebody else as being inconsolable or heartbroken or distressed or dazed, but it's not easy to use them words about yourself without coming across as self absorbed or pretentious or just a wuss or a wimp.

I'm not too bothered at this moment about how I come across.

Yesterday, especially, I was inconsolable and heartbroken and distressed and dazed. I didn't sleep much over Friday night/Saturday morning and had to get up early to take delivery of the shopping. I sat on the settee and watched kids TV and I cried on and off for hours. It was appalling.

Various things were setting me off. I remembered how glad Ben was to see me, no matter how impatient I was with him. I remembered how he would take the food out of his bowl and eat it off the mat in the kitchen. (Cat food is as strong as glue, by the way.) I remembered how, during one Christmas, he decided to investigate behind the Christmas tree, got caught on the Christmas lights cable, panicked and brought the whole thing down.

Horrible, vile cat.

Lorraine was cool during this. She would get out of her seat, come over and sit next to me and hold me until I stopped crying. Then she would go back to her seat. Lorraine has cried a bit, but not much. I suppose one of us needs to be the functioning grown up in this relationship. I'm certainly not. I made two mistakes, yesterday.

Firstly, I mentioned that I got up early. I did. While waiting for the shopping to arrive I cleaned up around the kitchen and the bathroom. I washed and put away all of Ben's bowls and litter trays. When Lorraine finally got up, she went into the kitchen and shrieked. Then she came out and said, "There's nothing left of him". Awful. I am a stupid fucking bastard. I should have left the bowls and the litter trays until I had asked her if I could move them.

Secondly, we were on the way home from Sister 3's last night. It was quite late. I said to Lorraine that we should, "Get a move on because of the Cat".

Lorraine looked at me closely. "We don't have to get a move on for the Cat".

No, of course we don't. I had forgotten. Ben has gone.

I find myself still going into rooms and doing the "scan". The "scan", as all pet owners will tell you, is what they do when entering a room to locate their Cat, Dog, Rabbit, whatever, so that they do not trip over them. I think that it is going to take a long time to stop doing the "scan". I still check the ceiling of every room I enter for water leaks and it has been 4 years since we had that problem.

Mid afternoon I decided to pull myself together. Strangely easy. I can't explain it. Kind of like flicking a switch. Anyway, I had no choice. We were taking my Niece and Nephew to see the panto "Cinderella".

I picked up my Niece and Nephew from my Mom's. My Niece asked me if it was true that Ben had "gone to the Angels" and I told her that it was and that it was for the best. I explained about his illness and how sick he had become and how we had to make a hard decision. I also asked them to not mention it to Lorraine, because it might upset her. They were both cool about that and didn't say anything at all.



"Cinderella" was a really great night. We all enjoyed it a lot. The comedian Brian Conley is just made to front this kind of stuff and was a brilliant Buttons. He was not safe or coy or saccharine at all, but really in your face and edgy. Brilliant. The show was loud and bright and musical and very funny. Just wonderful. I love a good panto. When I was a little boy I went to one every year.

This afternoon Lorraine decided to put the trimmings up. She beat me out of the house with a broom, in case I got in her way, and I went to see "Deja Vu" starring Denzil Washington.



For a long time I could never get on with Tony Scott's movies. Loud, brash, crash edited and rubbish would be my description of most 'em, with some exceptions, "True Romance" and "Man On Fire" . Those were both great films.

"Deja Vu" is.... OK. It's not terrible, it's not a masterpiece. It is a perfectly OK movie. That's a victory for Tony Scott! It is preposterous and ridiculous, and like most time travel films is full of holes, but I enjoyed it well enough. Hardly anybody in the cinema, though. Where was everybody?

Oh, of course. It's Christmas Eve. What else is there to do on Christmas Eve but go to the cinema?

I am being called. Lorraine is cooking. I may be ill tomorrow.

All joking aside, thank you everybody. It has been a hard time, but we appreciate all of the comments, really we do. Ben was a handsome boy and we loved him. I hope he knew that.

Better times ahead for everybody, I hope.