Mask

Our beautiful Mask died a few weeks ago. She was 18. Mother loved her baby. Thankfully, we weren't home when she passed. We kind of thought that she was going to kick the bucket because she was actually quite silly. She was Mother with fur!

The morning of her death she kept trying to take a shower with me (the cat was not Mother). This wouldn't of surprised me so much if it had been Mother. She seemed off. I knew her time was approaching so I took a moment and cried it out in the shower. I thought about so many things. Mother especially. I mean, me being a hot mess is one thing but hot mess Mother is another. Then I went to work for 12 hours.

Upon returning I asked Melanie how my baby was doing and she promptly said we will talk about it later. Clearly, we couldn't talk about it in front of Mother. She's already a cry baby. Just takes one thing to get her going and the water works won't stop. Well, it eventually does; thank you Ativan. Anyways, with those words I knew Mask died.

Melanie had the task of telling Mother the news and needless to say Mother was sobbing into the blanket about her baby being gone. So thankful Melanie was there because she deals with the sobbing better. When I deal with it there's about 25 % chance that I'm going to be fighting back tears. I was so worried that she was going to ask about the cat all the time but for once the dementia gods were listening. Mother really didn't ask too much about her after the first few days and now nothing.

Little moments

Mother loves her avon and her avon magazines. Kendra will buy her stuff and always brings her home magazines. Mother will carry them around with her for days and show you different things. She has them right by her side and will randomly pick them up and look through them. Today she has showed me the magazine a few times and I ask her what she wants. Sometimes there's not much talking on her end but she loves just being engaged in a conversation.

Yet again Mother picked her magazine up and this time asked Melanie if she would like to look at the magazine (in dementia language of course) and Melanie responded, " No thank you. Maybe later." This did not please Mother at all. She put her frowny face on and looked away. If anyone looked at her face they would have thought that she just received really sad news. Poor girl. I looked at the magazine with her. Those little puppy eyes got me.

After our magazine time I returned to my seat and for about 10 minutes Mother was quiet until she suddenly sat up and said, "Mom? Where are you?" She then turned her head, saw Melanie, sighed with relief and said, "Oh, whoo." Oh, my silly Mama.