First things first, I forgot to include an old dream on the entry for the 5th.

a long read

Ages ago there was a moo cat hiding under a parked car in front of my father's business. She was retrieved and brought into the shop. I remember going into the back area and staying with her until closing. To my recollection she was the first cat who let me touch her, and being able to pet her was a huge deal. My biological father told me we couldn't bring her home because of my biological mother or that it wouldn't be fair to Cleo. Cleo was our moo cat. Wound up my paternal grandparents adopted her.
I credit my paternal grandmother for keeping me from becoming the monster my biological mother believed was an inevitability. Even at my young age she'd talk about rape and similar topics and these talks always felt like she knew I'd become a rapist. Or a cruel and murderous thug like Richard Kuklinski.
My biological mother, a beast with the shape of a human, was unrelentingly cruel and devoid of any semblance of love towards me while my paternal grandmother was at the other end of the spectrum. She loved animals. She would light up talking about feeding apples to the firehouse horses in her neighborhood when she was a girl. My paternal grandfather also had his airs of being an animal lover. He mentioned finding a few kittens as a boy and brought them home. When he returned from school the next day, the kittens were gone. When he asked his father, the father could only shrug and that was that.
The shop did have two cats, Momma Cat and Fraidy Cat, but they wound up disappearing and I never knew what happened to them. What I do remember is Fraidy Cat lived up to their name and the story being one of the customers went to kick the cat some time before and made her wary of humans. The customer was kicked out and not welcome to return.
When I next visited my elders and looking forward to seeing kitty, I found her declawed and hiding in a cubby under my paternal grandfather's desk and terrified. When I attempted to reach in and pet her, recapture some of the magic of our first meeting, I was met with hisses and being thwapped by her clawless paws.
A little later my biological father took Impy, the name given to her by my paternal grandfather due to her 'personality', to the veterinarian then told the elders how she needed to be euthanized. She wasn't, at least if I believe my biological father, and it was a ruse to find the cat a better home.

Time passes My paternal grandparents adopted a large tabbycat they named Tiger. Tiger was big, gentle, and friendly but supposedly not very bright. Seeing him was always a hghlight and I'd always head to the basement where Tiger lived.
A short time later Tiger sneaked out while my paternal grandfather was doing shit and was never seen again. No word was made, no concerns voiced, Tiger vanished without notice much like the dog Tiger on The Brady Bunch.

May 7th, 2004 there's a situation with a dog. Here's what I wrote at heptapod.org about the encounter.

A very draining evening for me. First I was trying to set up an appointment for therapy to no avail. Feeling frustrated, I went outside to ride my bike. When I got to the top of Yampa I saw a medium sized dog with husky coloration and no tail trotting across the street with a large clothesline trailing after him.

My first thought, "Oh fuck, I can't have a dog."

I stomped on the rope and spoke to the dog, drawing him closer and started back towards the house. Some dopey college chicks stopped by and said they thought they knew who he belonged to but eventually they changed their mind and drove off. We were in the backyard, I tied up the clothesline to the clothesline poles, got some cash and bought dogfood and a chewie. He wolfed down the can of food then knocked over the water only to lie down and keep to himself. He's a mangy guy with long hair and lovely eyes that are white. No, they're not cataracts or anything dealing with blindness. His eyes are just white.

A half hour later I went inside, took Spot in my arms and carried her into the laundry room so she could see what was taking my precious time away from tending to her every whim. Spot's tail puffed up huge and I brought her back inside telling her the doggy was a good dog and only looked rough.

I was a mess calling the shelter asking them over and over again if they're a no-kill shelter. I wasn't about to send this poor dog, who probably escaped from somewhere, to something even worse. They are a no-kill shelter and I'm going to be visiting once a week to make sure that he's going to be alright. In the meantime while I was waiting for the animal control officer to show up I sat outside with the pooch, talking to him, scratching him behind the ears and rubbing under his muzzle. I could tell that he didn't have this kind of attention whereever he was before because he was so needy for attention. One of the things I told him was that if his old owners come along and pick him up and it gets bad, he should run away again and come here because then I'll drive him over to another county to their no-kill shelter so I'm sure he lives a happy life. We were joined by a small gray kitty with brindle stripes. She didn't want to be picked up or petted and led me on a brief but merry chase on the sidewalk and along the side of the methadone clinic.

When the animal control officer came I told him what I knew about the pooch, how the dog was well fed but really seemed like he needed love and wasn't taken good care of with the mud and scraggly hair. Mr. Dog was well behaved and I hope he knew that I was trying to help him, not betraying his brief trust in me. After he got put into the kennel and popped in the back of the truck I went back inside and cried because I felt like such a bastard.

A little later I called my dad and we talked, I asked him if he wanted to come out here and pick up the pooch. He couldn't because the ride would be too long.

I hope Mr. Dog's going to be alright.

Anyway the past week or so have been complete shit.

That Saturday I went to the pound hoping to find the dog and find out what may be in store, but nobody knew of the dog and I was crumbling. To the credit of the staff they got me to play with a large rottweiler called Hustle and his company distracted me.
Decades later I'm still haunted thinking I sent that dog to his doom.

April 4th, 2007 has a similar incident but a happy ending. The dog in question was a brown pitbull who was recently nursing puppies considering the large nipples under her. Her rump looked like she had ringworm or someone had burned her with a cigar.

On Wednesday, April 4th I went to the Safeway on Circle after work to pick up one or two things for the apartment. Minutes after I come into the store there's an announcement of a brown dog who looks like she just gave puppies at the north door.

Now I'm curious and forget about my little shopping list. Outside the door is a little brown pit bull who recently was in a puppy way. Folks were crowded around her and two guys were tying a yellow rope around her neck as a makeshift leash. The pup is all happy because she's getting attention. Someone remarks that it looks like someone might've burned her on the rump with cigarettes. One of the women who works for Safeway says that the pound should be there any moment.

Aw fucking geez.

"I'll take her." Minutes later I'm carrying this scrawny and scraggly pup in my arms back to my car. Sending a dog to the pound is a death sentence. By the way, I plop her in my car and hurry back to pick up seltzer water, some dinner and a bag of teriyaki jerky for my new friend.

Thank goodness she is well-behaved because nothing was torn up in my car. She was very excited and kept crawling on my lap while I was driving home. Reckon if I weighed less then she could be a lapdog but after last week's accident I wanted to avoid any more mishaps.

My next stop was to pay my rent and already I was a mess realizing that my lease doesn't allow dogs, Spot doesn't allow dogs and the fact this little girl is a pit bull already makes folks have prejudice towards her. The property manager didn't have any ideas about where to take the pup and I headed back home. Before I began searching for the safest and kindest places for animals I phoned Colorado girlfriend.

"I have good news and I have bad news."
"The good news is that I have a dog. The bad news is that I have a dog."

She expressed disbelief and asked me about the young pup. Spot was locked up in the bedroom for her and the dog's safety and already Spot was making loud sniffing and huffing noises in addition to muttering "stupid dogs". Colorado girlfriend asked if I wanted her to come down. Yes, I did because I didn't know what to do and reckon if I was going to ensure this pup was going to have a happy ending then I'd need some help.

After phoning Colorado girlfriend I called my dad and then I went out to Petsmart hoping to get information about Dreampower Animal Rescue. While I was there I bought a forty pound bag of dog food, a red harness and a leash hoping somehow this would entice Colorado girlfriend into adopting the pooch who I would support from afar. Now this pup was a real handful because she kept jumping out of the cart but she was very well behaved around other dogs. There was an obedience class going on and she didn't tug or growl or try to cause any mischief. On the way back she was farting up a storm that smelled exactly like the beef jerky I was feeding her. In fact I stopped a few times wondering if she was going to lay cable but it ended up being a chance for her to sniff the world.

We got home and Colorado girlfriend still hadn't arrived so we went for a walk around the block where the pup got to smell the various smells and other four-legged citizens in the neighborhood. By the time we returned Colorado girlfriend was at the house. Colorado girlfriend kept saying that I was lucky she didn't have any other responsibilities that day and hinting that I should be more self-reliant even though she was happy to be there and make the acquaintance of this little girl.

Colorado girlfriend tries her hand at finding other shelters, learns that Dreampower really doesn't take in strays (what?) and I go downstairs to look some more. Fortunately after making a bunch of calls I find a rescue place out in Woodland Park that would take her. No-kill! Now Colorado girlfriend would be very helpful because she would drop the pup off along with a $70 check to pay for the spay and shots in addition to the hueg bag of dog food.

Later Colorado girlfriend and I went back to the Safeway to see if there were any developments. By now the little pooch was all tuckered out.

Back home, Colorado girlfriend went to sleep in my bedroom and I slept on the lovesac with the little girl. She's so young and already had puppies. Doesn't seem fair or humane. Minutes after I lay down for the night, she climbed right next to me and fell asleep. Good girl. Oh lord either I'm all fidgety or she was all fidgety but I didn't sleep very soundly because she kept squirming around in her sleep.

One thing that I did notice is the fact that she would curl up into a little ball. Over the course of an hour she would slowly uncurl and extend herself until she slid off the lovesac. Now she'd be awake and climb back into bed to continue the process. Just wish that I had kept my camera right next to my pillow because there was a great shot of her being silly like this.

I do want to mention this dog was smart. While we were sleeping the kid living in the attic came home, making some noise but not a lot. The dog woke up and gave a conspiratorial "whuf". I stroked her head, told her there was nothing to worry about and she seemed to understand me.

Next morning I get up and take her out so she can have her morning constitutional. I take a leak in the backyard while she's pinching a loaf. Now Colorado girlfriend is awake, I give her instructions on how to log into my computer and where I put the check and directions and the telephone number to the rescue. It's time to go and I hear Colorado girlfriend soothing the dog who's whining at the top of the stairs as I'm leaving for work.

Colorado girlfriend told me that the rescue looks like a very nice place. Colorado girlfriend filled out a found report over at the humane society and searched around Safeway with the pup for any sign of the puppies. Ends up that the pup was more interested in the smells of other critters and other activity than anything else.

Anyway Colorado girlfriend says that the pup is in a much better place now.

I am relieved.

Some time later I looked up the rescue, they had relocated to Texas, and reached out on Facebook. The person I spoke with remembered the dog and told me she was adopted by a woman.

But those are two situations involving animals in need requiring me to make calls in hopes of finding help, finding shelter for them.

The following is a bit of a conflation in my head. It involves Merry, Leah's large and longhaired black tortie cat, and my ex-girlfriend from Colorado.

Merry passed away on November 8th, 2010 between 3:30 and 3:45 p.m.

Merry wasn't in a good way and my in-laws were honking their horn at the side of the house for something-or-other. I went out, attended to them, but when I came back inside Merry had passed away. I wanted to at least hold her in my arms so she wouldn't be alone.

Lee told me the story of how she brought Merry into her heart and home. Her sister was at the pet store and saw Merry in a cage. The folks at the store called her 5 cents for some cruel reason. When Lee heard about the cat and the name she called them to adopt the cat. Due to one of their policies Merry couldn't be adopted until Hallowe'en had passed so Lee patiently waited for that day. When she took the cat from the cage Merry sank her claws into Lee's shirt holding on for dear life, Lee looked into her eyes and said "You are Meredith" and brought her home.

Merry lived a long and happy life to do whatever she pleased which meant doing nothing and having nonstop food. I only knew her for a little more than a year but I reached out to Merry, gave her love and attention to the best of my ability and Merry endeared herself to me in very little time.

More than a week later, I'm stuck making frantic calls hoping to help someone.

On Wednesday afternoon I received a call from raddidge. She was asking me questions about psychiatry and whatnot. I told her about the free/sliding scale clinic in Colorado Springs, gave their numbers and offered to give the contact information for my shrink during the last portion of my Colorado experience. She asked me how crazy I thought she was on a scale of 1-10, my answer was 5 or a 6 when she was uncommunicative and I am being truthful, and she ended the call asking if she should kill herself.
I told her that it's not worth it and she shouldn't do it. I repeated it again. The call ended leaving me flustered by the experience.

What I recall as to the ending of that call was raddidge going, "Good bye. Good byeeee" fading out before she hung up the phone.

Lee wasn't available, I left her a voicemail and sent her a text asking her to call me ASAP. Apparently Wednesday was host to many meetings. After that I began scouring the internet. First I checked Spokeo, found her home telephone number and left a message on the voicemail. It was something but I know they have a byzantine telephone firewall because of various issues and probably never check the general voicemail. I remembered the middle brother worked at an airport, called a few but nobody knew him. Checked with human resources and various third parties involved with airports and they had no idea about the guy. Now I remembered that her youngest brother worked at some nature and wildlife center in town. I called them, asked for him and hit paydirt.
The call was prefaced with asking him to just listen and not hang up on me then acknowledging his relationship with raddidge. He didn't hang up and I told him about the call. Now I was concerned because I was afraid he'd just take the call and do nothing but after I gave him the circumstances behind the call he seemed to be genuinely concerned and we parted ways.
A few minutes later Lee calls me, asks if everything's okay and I tell her how I'm flustered, what happened during the call and how I think she thinks I shouldn't be concerned and I shouldn't give a shit but I still do. Lee is very understanding but pressed for time because of another meeting but she said she'd call me back. I felt awful for bringing it up to her but she's the first person I'd contact for some kind of support or perspective.

Please note that much of this was originally written at heptapod.org. In my spiral notebook I wrote about fourteen pages but decided to quote old entries from heptapod.org since my memory was faulty, conflating various instances. I figured digging through the archives meant being more truthful.

Again, frantic calls in hopes of finding help for someone in need and close to the day Merry passed away.

On Friday afternoon around 4 in the afternoon, my sister texts me:

Hi, I tried to email the rescue but it's not the correct address. We caught the momma cat finally and she had surgery today and they wanted to rerelease her. I would hope that she could find a home. I used contact@catrecue.com"

a wary tuxedo cat inside a cage covered with a piece of cloth. there is a bowl of wet food near her right front leg.

The way my sister framed the text made me think the cat was living on borrowed time. I phoned her and got the full story. My summary — My sister found two cats and kittens at a shopping center. She wound up taking in the male cat, named William, and collecting the kittens who are now in foster car. The momma cat, presumed to be William's sister, was elusive but was recently trapped and taken to be spayed. My sister's friend T. would be taking care of the momma cat as she recovered from the spay. Yet my sister was framing the situation as if the clock was ticking and this momma cat was living on borrowed time.

I phoned the three main people at the cat rescue, but only left a voicemail for one since I really didn't know the former two. Eventually I spoke with someone over InstaGram about the situation and learned there's no room at the inn, so to speak. Unsurprising considering the rescue is handling the cats from a hoarding situation in Freehold, having brought in forty cats and kittens. At the moment there are 19 kittens in the kitten room and 19 cats in the lounge. When the rescue intervened on the hoarding situation they said they could smell the apartment from the parking lot. They mentioned two rescues in Middlesex County and thanked me for looking out for the kitties. My heart fell, I failed, I couldn't help again. Teared up twice at my desk.

After I passed along the full conversation with the cat rescue to my sister, she responded with "Nobody is putting her down. We're all working hard to rescue her. Nobody is going to let anything happen to her."

The clock ran out at work and I went to my soon-to-be ex-mother-in-law for dinner. She bought a rotisserie chicken and wanted to share it, and some small potatoes, with me. When I got there I unloaded everything mentioned in this entry.
I wept.
I asserted my distrust in the human world.
My contempt for humanity.

I appreciate how this makes me a self-hating human but it's not that much of a leap for me because I am ½ Italian (Sicilian) and having grown up around other Italians, related to me or not, I know Italians are all conniving thieves lacking in moral fiber who will happily and blindly follow any leader who is strong enough even if it's to their detriment.
Plus nearly all the Italians I know are racist nationalists, for example the whole Mafia/Cosa Nostra rule of only full-blooded wops being members. My biological father being racist and a supporter of Trump. My biological grandfather having his own racism issues. Whenever I'm asked in New Jersey about my heritage, I always say I'm an American. It's true being an American post-Trump is problematic but I don't like that guy at all and don't know what else to say about myself other than simply being a human being. And as an American I can distance myself from dagoes claiming Italian heritage. Shithead wops who are Italian first and American second which makes me wonder if the homeland is superior why didn't they go back? Why didn't they take over and school them with their American learnings?
Because they're poor, stupid, and lowlifes whose families should be charged double for the bullet they deserve in their pathetic excuse for a skull.


I microdosed LSD on Friday morning and turns out the dose wasn't so micro. Still I was functional, able to perform my duties at work but it left me emotionally raw considering everything I wrote before this section. As I put it to Wednesday, "Another thing to keep in mind with psychedelics is after the fun/discovery is over, one is very sensitive. Like when you nut but she keeps sucking and won't stop."

Mid-morning on Friday I had a realization and shared that with my dealer in Livingston.

oh boy oh wow i realized another facet of why my relationships with women are so fraught and why i am afraid of women because all i've ever been told having it beaten into me is to always apologize to women and somehow saying "i'm sorry" became an "i love you" except it's just eroding me and making me smaller and women don't like or love or respect small guys whether physical emotional or mental stature.
plus other shit.
jesus fuck my drug dealer in livingston
case in point: struggling to not apologize for spamming you this morning and fearing you are quiet because i annoyed you which the lsd is telling me that is NOT the case you are just doing your own stuff

All I ever do around women is apologize and think they're angry at me for whatever reason. And varying shades of angry rather than just simply being furious and throwing a tantrum at me followed by two hours of being verbally torn apart. I'm afraid of women. I'm constantly apologizing. Coupled with that is what I mentioned earlier where my biological mother's actions and attitude towards me conveyed how she believed I'd grow into a monster, ingraining it so deeply in my young brain that it still haunts me and I still wonder where I went wrong and why I can do no right.

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