RIP Fluffy

Today we had to have Fluffy put down.

Fluffy was originally Oldest Daughters cat. She aquired her as a kitten when she was living with her boyfriend. They lived in the middle of town, so Fluffy's first 2 years were as an indoor cat, playing with her foster sister, and skulking around looking like a bottle brush when I came to visit with the dog.

When daughter and the boyfriend split up, she couldn't have a cat in her new appartment, and so we adopted her. She was a strange animal, not fond of cuddling, especially of being picked up, and yet she quickly took to husband (he is a magnet for shy cats - we've seen it before, in Ithaca, when Katya came out of hiding to perch on his lap). After trying out various locations - the shelf over my desk , the top of the rerfrigerator - she settled on husbands vicinity as her favorite sleeping place: either a space in the bookshelf next to his desk, or on the desk itself, preferably, to husband's chagrin, on the computer. She even accepted being picked up and cuddled by him, sometimes seeming to be on theverge of purring.

Moving to our house gave Fluffy's life a new dimention. She was now able to go outside, and she revelled in it. She would go out in any weather,and we found her muddy pawprints all over. That thing about cats being so particular about keeping their paws clean? Well, it didn't apply to Fluffy! She was in the trees trying to reach the magpies nests, or on the veranda roof, where she could look down on the bird feeder, which was just out of reach. We could usually tell where she was, from the scolding of the magpies that followed her wherever she went.

She quickly got used to the dogs, and took no nonsense from them, standing her ground and just staring them down. She was always in competition with Puseline for the position of Top Cat. She was very curious,creaping into any enclosed space: a box, gym bag, open suitcase, closet. She even worked on opening closet doors herself, and then we'd find her dirty paw prints and hair on the clean sheets or husbands running clothes...

About 6 weeks ago, she suddenly dissapeared. A few weeks later, on a walk with the dogs, husband got into a conversation with a neighbor when Lucy showed an unusual interest in a storehouse. Apparently a badgerr had made his home there. She mentioned having seen a dead cat a few weeks previously, which had fallen victim to the badger. On further inquiry, she said the cat was white, with grey and black. So we wrote Fluffy off as dead. Imagine our surprise when she suddenly showed up on the doorstep, hungry and lonely 2 days ago. We were so pleased to see her again! Then last night husband was woken up by a terrible caterwauling at 2 am. On coming down to investigate, he found Fluffy crying with an open wound on her leg, ,pieces of bone sticking out. He made her comfortable in the cat bed, and took her to the vet this morning. But there was nothing they could do. The whole hind leg was shattererd, from the hocks to the hip. The vet said that most likely she'd been hit by a car, and had dragged herself home. So we put her out of her misery.

We will miss Fluffy, rubbing against our legs, purring and growling at the same time. I think she had a good life though, and is certainly chasing magpies in cat heaven now. RIP

Pulling up roots

When looking forward to the direction my life would be taking in the last few years, I never anticipated selling my home, to move to some place else in Norway. Yet that is what is happening.

Since I started commuting 3 hours to and from work, Husband has periodically brought up the idea of moving. Each time however the high price of real estate, the closer you get to the capital, and the uncertain job prospects for Husband in the event of a move, caused us to ditch the idea.

When it came up again in August, I asked whether Husband would consider renting rather than owning. It is a typical Norwegian opinion that renting is equivalent to throwing away money, while paying on a mortgage is putting money in your pocket. I have never quite bought this argument.

Anyway, Husband was not against the idea, and when he started looking for rentals on the internet, he found a house for rent on a farm, about 45 minutes from my work. The rent was reasonable, even though the house sounded a little smaller than we would have liked, and there was a mention of the possibility for a rent reduction in exchange for help on the farm. Upon inquiring what sort of help was meant, it turned out that their herdsmann had recently resigned. When they heard that husband had 6 years experience from just such a dairy operation: with loafing barn and milking robot, they immediatly offered him a job.

So we went to look at the place. It is a 300 year old house, that used to be the baking and brewing house on the farm. Now, nicely renovated for living in. It is about half the size of the one we have, and the outdoor area is not clearly devided from the farm family's. However the impression we got of the dairy operation was that it very well organised. There was not a piece of junk visible anywhere. Regarding the use of the yard, it sounded like nothing would be impossible, such as growing a vegetable garden, setting up a clothes drying rack, getting the use of a storehouse to store skis, bicycles, garden tools etc. Pets were no problem; the previous tenant had had 5 dobermans. The family also has a dog (we could have cats at our own risk - apparently he likes to chase them, but this dog is only marginally larger than our cats), and 3 children, aged 7, 12, and 14. The farmer is incredibly nice. His wife, who is an ICU nurse, more reserved. She seemed to make a point of keeping our households and space somewhat seperate, so as not to live in each others pockets. I think that is a good thing, as I am used to having my own space...

Originally we thought of renting our property, on further reflection however we have decided to put it on the market. It is less hassle in the long run. I was a bit of two minds at first. After all, in 8 years the mortgage will be paid off, and it will only cost me the taxes and insurance. However, as Husband pointed out, it would need a lot of work by then, so it would still cost more than is comfortable. The whole advantage of renting over owning is not having responsibility for the upkeep, and not being tied down. If there is any money left over by the time the bank, the realtors and the state have had their share, I plan to sink it into a savings bank, and either buy a vacation home in Norway, or a home in a warmer country at a later time.

Mother in Law - NEW VERSION

Death is a strange and holy event. It seems to me that there are 2 times in our lives, when we as human beings present ourselves to the world, stripped of the clutter of personality, with only our essential being: this is birth and death.

Mother-in-law was not an easy person to relate to, and yet, as she approached the end of her life, her most essential need: to have her family around her was percieved and responded to, without her having to exert any direct pressure. Her sons and husband sat continually by her bedside during the last days of her life. All 3 were present, during the 2 hours that she was lucid and awake on the last afternoon. To have her family close by was always her deepest need, even though in life she could express this need in ways, more suited to repell than attract.

She died in Tynset hospital on September 6th in the late evening. Only 5 days earlier the family had gathered to celebrate her 68th birthday with cake and gifts at her hospital bed. Many people gathered for the funeral. Some travelled from quite far away, and the church was full.

I find to my surprise, that the feelings of resentment that I harbored toward mother-in-law for many years, have dissipated entirely. And I wish for her that she may find clarity and purpose as she finds her way into the spiritual world, and looks back on the life that she has left behind.

Below is her final resting place, within the walls of the Folldal Church yard, with a view of the distant mountains, and the sound of sheep bleating in the pasture nearby. The church was full at the funeral and an abundance of flowers cover the grave, which for now is marked with a simple wooden cross.