The Salisbury peace was short-lived.
I came home to find Peanut stretched out on the carpet, looking uncomfortable and unwilling to eat. I had seen the other cats go off their food and recover after a few hours (and perhaps the upchucking of a fur ball), but Peanut was stretching out in increments all night long – first near the door, then under a dining table chair, then in the hallway outside the bedroom, then in the study. By morning, she was gasping. Into the carrier, off to the vet.
She died of congestive heart failure at 2:45 pm that day. Unexpected, shockingly fast; I was so devastated I came home and screamed my grief at the universe. Not Peanut. Not my baby. I sobbed for the next week, consumed by misery and loneliness. I was utterly isolated and alone; my heart shattered.
Once more ... off to Boston see Piero in a state of inconsolable grief, and holding an acceptance letter from a school of witchcraft ordering me to show up at the first class with a “heart full of joy”. Yeah. Good luck holding me to that. I was bursting into tears at odd moments, reminded of all three of them by some unexpected sight or thought; crying, “I miss you!” because I never thought emotional pain could be all encompassing like this.
As for showing up at Day #1 of class with a “heart full of joy”, I did try. I didn’t really accomplish it. The class was held from 7 until 9:30 at night, one Tuesday a month, waaaay past my bedtime, to the point where I knew I would have to take one Wednesday off per month for the next year, because there was no way I was getting up at 4:00 a.m. the next morning and getting to work on time. I knew I also had to buy a coffee mug I could carry with me on my way north, and drink from to stay awake.
So here was the homework assignment: write three pages in a journal every day. Find a place to meditate. Attend a circle this month. Practice feeling energy. Read Lesson #1 in the required text.
Not that I mind homework assignments – I don’t – but the chaos bothered me, as it seemed to have sprung wholly grown from the ground, without warning. Attend a circle AND bring a potluck item (after I’ve packed my pots and pans?) AND a mask (don’t have one … so sue me) AND move and find a place to meditate AND take a trip to New York City, and write three pages in a journal every day AND be sent on a week long business trip to North Carolina the week after closing on the house AND prepare a presentation to deliver in North Carolina AND deal with the aftermath of Peanut’s sudden death AND … move … and you get the idea. Chaos.
But even I don’t have it as bad as the place I’m studying at. They’re in the middle of moving to a new site and found that New Hampshire’s famous “Live Free or Die” motto only applies to anal retentive church ladies with pursed lips and constipated, dimpled, cellulite-laden rumps. Top of the list of anal retentive church ladies with pursed lips and constipated, dimpled, cellulite-laden rumps: one Christine Davis of Salem.
“Christine Davis, a mother of four, said she opposes the project [which is to say, the school of witchcraft moving into her neighborhood] and fears the end result will be potential vandalism to nearby properties, traffic, disturbances and declining property values. "It's going to be a really hard selling point," she said. "We're family-oriented here: I'm part of the community and don't want to see this happen."” (New Hampshire Union-Leader, November 14. 2012, by April Guilmet)
Vandalism??? Declining property values? And apparently, according to dimwits like Christine, witches don’t even HAVE families. I should sue the bitch for libeling me personally, and while doing that, I have a few choice words for Christine Davis alright, libelous demon and constipated church goer that she is:
Lady, I’m more concerned about demons like YOU than anything else. You AND the family you’re raising to be even more demonic and evil than you are, and if ANYONE dragged the local property values through the mud and down into the underground, it sure the hell t’warn’t me. Spawn-squirting cow. Did I ever tell you how much I loathe women?
(I know, I know – you’re all shocked beyond words at this news).
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