Then God Created Houston

I’ll get the medicine tomorrow. Even then, I don’t think he needs it, but I am sure it would be of help considering his current state, which, to be fair, is concerning.

So tomorrow it is. I will get the medicine tomorrow.

Now that that is taken care of, I need to continue getting ready for work. I need to be there within the next 15 minutes, as not to be late. I have been late nearly every shift for the past two weeks and, while my boss likes me enough, I don’t know if he likes me that much. I am not immune, much like my cat. He is not my cat, actually, but I have had him for the past three years. I named him and I buy him medicine when I remember to. He sleeps outside, so things like this happen from time to time.

I check the mail for the package I have been anxiously awaiting and find that it has arrived. I feel good now. There is a wave of relief, as you know, and I drink to this good news and it is a good drink because I am drinking with lighter shoulders and a better attitude.

The cat coughs.

Once again, I could not make it to work on-time. My boss did not mention anything.

Today I remembered that I am going camping with some family as well as a small family I do not know, or really care for. What I mean to say is: If they were in a dire situation and I were present to witness it, I would help them nonetheless because that is the kind of person I consider myself.

I left home later than I had planned, but, after driving for three hours, I had made it with just enough time to set up camp prior to sundown. I am going to miss my cat. His name is Macaron. But I left my roommate everything they would need to take care of him for a few days. Don’t know if I left enough cat food, and once I had arrived at the campsite, it dawned on me that I would be without service for the entirety of my stay. If my roommate were to run out of wet food, there would still be plenty of dry food to hold Macaron over. And when I get back into town on Sunday I will go to the store and get him medicine.

I don’t think it will be so bad without my phone. Maybe it will get me thinking. Every year I put off the whole New Year’s resolution thing, assuming the new year will just bring more of the same, but today I am thinking otherwise.

Fire thoughts: I am not the primary caretaker of the fire, although I help by stoking it here and there. My step-father and his friend assumed the role of primary caretaker, which turned out to be a much more important job than anyone expected. In other words, it is fucking cold. The kind of cold that makes people bitter. So tonight I am retiring early, almost forgetting to give thanks for the meal that was cooked for me.

Another day without service, the thought of which causes a fair amount of anxiety. Going camping with other people means you can’t go home until the group as a whole decides to. Going home would be rude. I don’t mind being rude, but I don’t mind staying either.

These two thoughts batter each other until I don’t care to think about them any longer.

Today is going to be more relaxed. It is colder today which means we will all be fixed to the fire. Staring at a fire really allows you to think. I think about home and I think about Macaron. I even think about work and the moderate temperature allowed by the thermostat. I think until it is dark and even colder. Everyone is quiet and bitter. Instead of interacting with the others, I sit in my car, alone. It seems like I am unproductive even without my phone. I can’t help it and apparently no external force, or lack thereof, can help it either.

Someone is chopping wood at our campsite so I watch them. The axe is brought down upon the wood. The sound impacts the shell of my car. The chopping continues… The axe splits the log into more manageable pieces. I think about home. Macaron. Maybe an Amazon package arrived today, but I have no way of knowing. I want to know and I am sick of not knowing. The axe comes down again. I always find myself in a state of fixation, not forced upon me, but rather as if I had been struck by it, and suddenly. The subject of the fixation changes, but whatever it is, I now need it; yesterday I didn’t, but today I do, and now every moment is dedicated to it until I finally meet it.

The next day I make it home safe. I left a little early which may be perceived as rude, but I do not care because I am overcome with joy to be home. I love my cat. I took him in while I was still with ———. The cat didn’t cough back then. He was a street cat who would frequent our back door in search of a meal. Now my cat coughs and she is gone, not dead, but I am alone again. Alone only because death and separation seem to closely follow me, one after the other, and at times simultaneously. We named him Macaroni, after which we would sometimes drop the last syllable. He would scream at me for food, running from one end of our small apartment to the other. We did not buy a tree for him to climb, so he climbed anything he could, including me. But now he doesn’t scream at me for food, which makes me sad. I need medicine.

Or maybe screw the medicine. I’ll just go to the vet. I’ve made him wait long enough, even going camping before driving down the street for some medicine. Now this feeling of unease creeps under the door and up my pant leg, making my body cold. I feel like something is not right.

I grab the carrier and struggle with Macaron, acquiring several bleeding scratches to add to my bodily collection. He is in. We go downstairs to the car. While going down, white butterflies flutter across our vision, from this side to the other. We get in the car. We drive. I drive. You get it…

Macaron, sweet boy, he coughs questionable coughs, the kind that make you drive faster. He coughs nearly the entire ride, only stopping when we were about five minutes away from the vet’s office. Only five minutes. I pull over to the side of the road, turn down the volume of the radio, and just sit there, alone again.