Don't take life too seriously; Nobody gets out alive any way.

I was on the phone to my mum this morning when it dawned on me that tomorrow is the 10th anniversary of my Grampy passing, and a week since I had to lose my beloved Cookie. Within seconds I was once again in flood of tears. (I must sound like an emotional screw up to all who read this after my last post!)


My mind cast back onto who I've lost; especially the few in the last few months too, namely my amazing Uncle John. I couldn't help the tears; it never gets any easier, does it? They go and yet we're the ones left behind in pain. I've never dealt with loss well. I hate the idea of not existing any more; which is hilarious really considering everyone technically is a drop in the ocean of life.. It's not exactly like we make the biggest impact.


It's days like this a few old sayings pop into my head: "Don't take life too seriously; nobody gets out alive any way" and it's oh so true. We're born, we die.. perhaps we should try to enjoy the little bit we have in between (Thank you for that one Max Heinze). 


The philosophy behind my thinking could go on for hours here; is life what you make it? Is everything set in stone? Have I made the right decisions so far or will I be destined to make more bad or good choices? Should I buy chocolate or bananas for breakfast? (Actually, that one's a given!) Then I realise I've sent my head into a spin with all of this and develop a headache. (This happens on a regular occasion, trust me.)

Isn't she fantastic?!

My Grandmother turned 90 last year. (There's exactly 64 years and a day between us) She's awesome for her age but she carries this air of sadness; She's lived a long an full life but she's watched so many pass and yet she's still here. She misses Gramps terribly but at least she has all of us around her for company.  To think that I'm just over quarter of her age makes me think there's a hell of a lot more out there still to do. The question is, what do I want next? How do I go about getting it? I guess I don't know what life has in store for me yet; I keep forgetting that life goes on and that I'm only 26.  


The one thing I have decided; Life is one big question and it never, ever gets an easier. (Especially if you're involved in politics!!!)


Live in the now; life is far too short to worry about what you did yesterday, or perhaps what might go wrong tomorrow as you may never get that chance to see it.


"Sh*t happens.. it's how you deal with it that counts" - Quote Jennie Edwards 2012.

Family of the Furry Kind.

Very sad day in the Edwards Household yesterday... My little Cookie-Monster had to be put down. To anyone who is currently rolling their eyes and thinking that it's just a cat, get over yourself Jen.. Please leave this page now.


Animals teach us to love unconditionally. They are the one thing you know that you may never count on and yet want them around not matter what. (The little buggers really get to you!) I am a major animal lover and have always had a moggie in tow. Even though the first cat I ever really had contact with hated me with a vengeance till the day he passed, I still loved him to bits. (I still have the scars to prove it!) Inspector Gadget was evil. But awesome all the same


Cookie-monster  was a rescue from the Herne Bay/ Canterbury branch of Cat's Protection League. Found in a field at about 8 weeks, never to have had human contact before only to be lumped with me after a scary few days in someone's bathroom. I will never forget going to see her, she was such a bright spark for such a little thing. She won me over within moments of meeting her; she was so tiny she fitted on my right hand. We'd adopted Solimonster as an adult so I hadn't done the whole kitteny thing. I refuse to buy a cat when there's so many that need a loving home all ready.


She came home with me one sunny afternoon back in August '09 and then spent the next two weeks hiding under my bed, refusing to come out and shivering when touched. I finally managed to coax her out with the promise of food. Gradually, from then onwards, the only time you'd see her is when she'd climb up on the bed, perch on my shoulder for a mini cuddle before disappearing under the bed again. How tiny? --->


The process of getting her out of the bedroom and into the house was a slow and painful one. She was the shyest thing possible, it took months just to get her to stray into the living room. Don't even get me started on trying to get her to go outside! A leaf would fall down and she'd be shivering under the table.


I'd spent nearly 3 years with this wonderful kittencat as company. She was mine. She'd talk back to me and no one else, she'd follow me around the house and we had a very special bond. I'd miss her as much as she missed me. I especially loved waking up in the morning to find her perched on my shoulder, staring at me with "WAKE UP.. I NEED FEEDING!!" expression. She was always so kind not to paw at me, would patiently wait there for hours until I felt the need to be horizontal. Soli, on the other hand, would have no qualms on jumping on you, pawing you or even biting you to get attention.


She developed FLUTD (Feline Lower Urinary Tract Disease) back in November. Poor thing started to go to the loo indoors, which she'd never done before. You could tell she'd suddenly lost that spark of wonderment and fun. She constantly needed the loo, blood started to go everywhere and she just wanted to curl up and be loved. I spent many an hour massaging her belly for her, something she came to really enjoy. Feline cystitis is supposedly ridiculously painful. Problem was she was causing it herself. She'd been stressed out by two local bully toms, and the situation just got worse. We tried every medical technique, drugs, tests over the next few months. I refused point blank to give in to drastic options. She'd perk up a little, then suddenly all hell would once again break loose. I even tried making her an in-door cat which just plain stressed her out even more. I knew I was running out of options fast.


I thought things were better, then a few days ago I came home to what was such an upsetting scene; she was cowering under the table and there were blood spots littered across the living room floor. I just couldn't take it any more, it played on my mind for a few days; I didn't care about the mess, I just couldn't bring myself to put her through more pain. Mum accompanied me to the vets and I then spent the next few hours in floods of tears. I had a lovely cuddle with her before saying goodbye and I'll never ever forget her.




I knew I'd done the right thing. Although, that is the first and last time I ever want to play god. I was glad to have had her in my life, albeit a short period and I hope that she was happy too. I feel odd today, such a surreal feeling to think she will not be there when I get home any more. I have to try and remember the great moments, and perhaps one day I'll feel up to finding another stray in her honour as I'm sure she'd be quite upset to know there's no one sitting on her favourite patch of the sofa.