Shouts From Down Under

The loss of your pets, and the fear of faux pas comfort

I worry about offending people, possibly too much in one mood swing, and then in another, I seem to shrug people's feelings off a little too quickly; I become hard hearted and return to my 70's farm upbringing. Not blaming anyone, but we learnt some harsh realities back then.

So, I can sit comfortably knowing I have a scapegoat for my offences, and also, conveniently, for my anxiety and tip toeing around subjects for fear of hurting poor little diddums. Bipolar.
(By the way, do smirks annoy you? I find them very red raggish to a bull type of annoying, even merely as an emoticon prop that refers to ironic, self deprecatory (, and hopefully disarming) statements.

Getting offended can be something people aim for, or a self pitying trap to fall into, by those who demand their rights.

This article dumps us squarely back to planet earth with a resounding bump. Read with caution. Language and confronting themes.

http://theinternetoffendsme.wordpress.com/2013/04/09/the-real-story-behind-faceb...

But then, cutting through all of the noise, (the do this do that whatever mate, please just leave me alone) there are times when I really do worry on offending people, by saying things I think are comforting, but are they?

An example of this is our SM and SMs' loss of their pet cats. I saw today the following pic, on twitter, that reminded me of their "Bendito" and his companion. Looks like a gangster too



http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/William_Carlos_Williams

Ranell Jarrell, poet said of him; "William Carlos Williams is as magically observant and mimetic as a good novelist. He reproduces the details of what he sees with surprising freshness, clarity, and economy; and he sees just as extraordinarily, sometimes, the forms of this earth, the spirit moving behind the letters. His quick transparent lines have the nervous and contracted strength, move as jerkily and intently as a bird."

Plus, he liked kittens / cats.

My Mum and Dad's cat, seen here below, has two names. One is Snoops, but his original name was Sputnik. However, Dad forgot what it was, and started calling him the other name. He seems to take no notice of any name unless you have food. His favourite spot on a rainy day like today, is up high on a rolled up foam mattress, in the tool-shed / garage.



He eats well, especially with me around. I like cats, and enjoyed the vivid, simple comments written by The ScaryMaster and The StoryWitchress .

It seems so clear to me that when in times of that deepest pain and loss, the very ones who must be feeling it the most; if they can say or write something to their friends, family and other mourners who are sharing in that loss, if they can put across some memories, some explanation of what and why, some history, some humour even, then not only are they releasing their grief, but are giving the rest of us something valuable.

Comfort.

And this applies regardless of what or who has been lost. You see it again and again. There are times when the grief of others besides the obvious ones, is not apparent. Many suffer in silence, that's evident by the numbers who bottle it up until it's too late, and they choose the comfort of oblivion.

When I'm trying to think of something to say, words of comfort, words with proper meaning, and so on, I think how I would feel and realise that the last thing people need is falseness.

To conclude, I feel that most everyone understands at times like that. People are just human, and when the going gets tough, the track muddy, the climbing slippery, humans are human. We all stumble, slip, say stupid things.
But we know how to say something true. Something that may seem small and insignificant, but is from the heart.

And that brings universal comfort greater than anything.

Heartfelt words that cost us to say them to another human being. Words that we can hardly think up, but they express to another that we feel what they feel, that we belong to a group of comforters.

Humans. (And pets, with their head-butts and purrs)

Sparky