Wednesday, June 11, 2008

Can't write

Inky disappears, probably went to the big cat house in the sky and now I can't write.
I don't believe in writer's block but losing this little cat took the wind out of my sails. Strange how attached we get to these little creatures. How in love. I'm too sad to write. I look at the world's I've created and just can't get going. I think about doing it, open the file, peer at the words and--nothing.
A long time a go I wrote a story/book where my daughter found a magic bracelet and put it on Inky and when she woke up the next day they had switched bodies. I wrote this for my daughter and just for fun. I think about finding this story now and maybe doing something with it.
This is Gizzmo. She's our other cat. A bit of a strange creature. Never too friendly, bites unexpectantly and sounds like a herd of horses when she runs across the floor.
She didn't really get along with Inky. Before Inky disappeared Gizzmo wasn't too cuddly. Inkly was the cuddlebug. Always loving. Gizzmo would let you pet her for a few minutes and tell you she was done with razor sharp teeth.
Since Inky left Gizzmo has changed. She's always on my lap. Follows me from room to room. And she talks to me. Constantly yeowing. I talk back and I believe she thinks we actually have a converstation going.
I think it would have been easier if there was closure. If I knew for sure Inky had passed and was at peace. I believe she did, but I think it would have been easier to accept if I knew for sure.
I need to get my groove back.
Has anyone seen a lost groove?


spyscribbler said...

That sounds like a charming story, Aimless! And yes, they because such a huge part of our lives, always there, always loving.

When my one cat died, it took my other cat nearly a year to get her spark back. She was devastated.

Erica Orloff said...

Yes . . . have lost my groove before. Always seems to wander back.

When Honi died, I couldn't write for days and days. When I lost my little black cat (horrible story, which I will spare you), I was 8 months pregnant with Oldest . . . and I just laid on the couch and cried for two weeks straight, watching bad TV.

Grief is weird. It lingers and then one day it lifts. Then it might come back. Be patient.

And you know, you might try to write about Inky--a children's book. Something other than what you are working on. Might help you to memorialize her and to work through your thoughts and emotions.

Aimless Writer said...

The funny part is that writing is what I turn to when the rest of the world goes crazy. Now, not so much.
I keep thinking I see her. She was solid black so something catches my eye, that shadow by my feet, something at the back door or moving past on the darkened deck.
Perhaps she is still here, just in a different form.