My Perfect Love and Pain

Carter has been my best friend for more than ten years.  By now, everyone knows the story:  a mystical mouse, a lonely autumn in the “treehouse,” and months of struggling on our own; and again, years later, struggling on our own until our little Zoo family took shape.  Ina Hall belongs to him, a gift for his loyalty and humor over the years.  My heart belongs to him as well, though I’ve scattered pieces of it from here to Kansas and back for dogs to bat around.

During one of our “on our own” stints, while I lived in a too-expensive “luxury” apartment awaiting my divorce, Carter became mysteriously ill.  It wasn’t the first time I’d thought him close to death–and unfortunately, it would not be the last–but it was the first time I was dealing with it completely alone.  The new vet was far away, and night had set in, as had his lethargy and vomiting.  I didn’t sleep at all that night, watching and waiting for a sign that he might snap out of it.  First thing in the morning, we made the arduous journey to Patrick’s neighborhood and checked him into the animal hospital.

A healthy Carter, on vacation

I don’t remember ever crying so much, not for man nor beast.  My heart had been broken as severely as it had ever been, and Carter was to be my one touchstone, the one being who could ground me in reality and keep me from passing over the edge.  And he was dying.

I had little money, and even less time.  Patrick offered to help me any way he could, and I spent hours crying in his kitchen while he was at work, waiting for word from vets I didn’t trust, and who didn’t care nearly as much about my comfort as they could have.  All I knew was that Carter’s tiny bladder was horribly inflated, and that a blockage had nearly killed him as I waited for their office to open.  Now I waited to see whether the damage could be repaired.

The thought of being without my best friend was beyond unbearable.  I knew, without a doubt, that I didn’t want to live without him.  I’m sure to most people that would seem a shade overdramatic; but with no family and no friends here, and only one constant bringing me back to the center, I needed him like a fish needs water.

There were moments when I lost hope that he would be okay.  I may never forgive myself for giving up on him in those moments.  I should have known he would never leave me, and lended him my strength instead of my sadness.  But I’m a human being, not a perfect feline.  Only Carter loves perfectly, and only he could save himself just then.  Alone in a strange place, without his own best friend, he had to find the strength within himself to keep fighting for both of us.

Of course he made it through to the other side.  Of course I was as grateful as I could be to have my friend with me again.  It would not be our final hurdle, but it was significant.

Carter has always loved perfectly, if not always patiently.  He looks at me straight-faced and gives me “what for” when I’m being an idiot.  He doesn’t judge me (much) for the string of men and mistakes I’ve paraded in front of him, and he gives me real sympathy when it is warranted.  (It is rarely warranted.)  He has been honest and forthcoming about what he needs from me, and he demands no less, while accepting that I am not as perfect as is he.

I thought I could never love another the way I love Carter.  As I’ve faced his mortality and come to accept that he will not live forever, I’ve also accepted that I need a new perfect love.  I wasn’t looking for it, but found it in a man.  My heart is with him, and forever will be, just as Carter will live on in me for the rest of my life. 

Only this man is sick, in his own way.  He is damaged beyond my understanding, and nothing I can say or do can change that.  I am forced to watch, and wait, and hope for the best.  I know that I should lend him my strength, that I should love him as perfectly as I know he loves me.  I find myself unable.  I know, somewhere inside, that he must find the strength within himself to fight it out.  He must stand on his own before he can lean on me.  But as I wait, I will cry harder than I’ve ever cried for man or beast…including for Carter.