Sad news

After spending about a week in the Swedish fall season, complete with rain and temperatures that cannot seem to remain stable, trying to dry the inside of the windshield from fog while driving I made a heavy but necessary decision this weekend. I have finally realized that my beloved Toyota has been begging for a retirement for quite some time and I have also realized I have no choice but to obey it. Needless to say, it wasn't an easy decision since I really do love it but with the prospect of even more visits to the workshop to fix the surly heat fan, as well as the realization my little red trooper probably wouldn't pass the yearly inspection due to four lousy shock absorbers, I took a deep breath and went car hunting.

In the end I found a cute little red VW Golf from 1987 (so it's the same age as my Toyota, as well as almost the same color, if only a bit fresher in that area). It's got an automatic gear box, which was quite interesting since I've only ever driven an automatic once before, and only for a short distance. However, once I relaxed I realized that automatic is indeed easier than manual. I no longer have to drive for miles before realizing I'd forgotten to put in a higher gear (consequently lowering the amount of fuel needed). I don't have to watch how I balance the clutch and the gas pedals in order to drive smoothly. And the Golf is quite a bit more perky than my Toyota. Not that I'm especially much of a speed nut, quite the opposite. but even I have to grin a bit when the little red bullet takes off, and yeah, it is fun to press the gas pedal :).

Now all I have to do is switch the tires between the two cars (one of the prerequisites for my "new" car was that it had to have the same dimension on the tires as the Toyota. Since those tires, both sets of them, are less than a year old and I really don't want to put money into buying yet another set of tires).

What's going to happen to the Toyota, then? I wish i could say that it would get a well-deserved retirement, spending the days in a warm garage, all cozy and sweet. However, I only have one parking space, and I'm afraid I need that one for my Golf. So the Toyota will most likely end up donating choice parts to whomever wishes to do the surgery and then move on to car heaven. I will miss it, of course. It's served me and my family fairly well for so many years it wasn't an easy decision. But one has to know when it's time to put an end to the misery. And this is it for my darling Toyota, I'm afraid.

So, that is the ending of the chapter called "The little red pebble - going strong since 1987" in the book "Cat and the cars". However, stay tuned for the next chapter, "Red Bullet and the automatic", in the tragically comical story that is "Cat and the cars" or "How Cat pissed off the car fairy in a previous life and is paying dearly for it now".

Continuing my masterpiece

It's time for another chapter in the horror comedy/oddly amusing, in a twisted way, tragedy called "Cat and the cars".

The setting this time is the stables... to begin with.

Yesterday I was on my way home from the stables after a nice training session. I slid into my beloved Toyota and turned the ignition... And then turned it again. There wasn't even as much as a "click".

It was clinically dead, not even a single blip on the radar.

Taking a deep breath I climbed out and gingerly made my way over to where the husband of the stable owner was sitting. Feeling like the most airheaded bimbo (if you can be one while wearing baggy clothes covered with dust) I asked him if he knew anything about cars. Not too long after that the stable owner returned from her horseback ride and the two of them helped me electrocute the Toyota with the jumper cables (in an operation that looked a lot like the TV show "ER" would look... if it happened outside... in the shade of an old barn). I managed to get my ass home, thinking it was ok now since my darling car did indeed start even after I made a quick stop at the grocery store.

Now this is where the story takes a darker turn and the tension-building music starts to fade in...

Today I once more slid into the driver's seat, on my way to pick up my co-rider since we'd planned to take a nice horsebackride in the forest. And, wonders above wonders..., the car was dead again. Not a single dip or up on the EKG of cars (if you don't count the fact that the clock did indeed light up when I had the key in the ACC-mode. It went out once I turned to ignition, though...).

Exasperated and feeling much like my favourite pet dog had just bitten me I got out, texted my co-rider who, thankfully, came by with her car so we could get to the stables. The horsebackride was nice, though the horse I'd borrowed was quite different from my own so we had our discussions.

Back from the stables again my co-rider kindly parked her car next to mine and we attempted the jumper cable routine again. It seemed to work. My darling started up nicely and was allowed to mooch some power from her car for a while. Then, when we thought it'd done so enough, we disconnected the cables again. I'd barely removed the cable for the minus pole when the headlights of my darling started dimming off. And by the time we got to remove the plus pole... Well, it was a close call whether the car wanted to stop altogether or jump a few times before stopping.

Not wanting to find out what would happen if my Toyota turned bronco I turned it off and... lo and behold, didn't get it to work again afterwards. Apparently it can't seem to hold the charge.

So now I'm sitting here with a clinically dead car, a mere two weeks before I'm supposed to be apx 30 Swedish miles north for work. Tomorrow I'm heading to the store to buy a new battery and offer up some very sincere and heartfelt prayers to appease whatever short-tempered car-god whose sensibilities I've apparently managed to severely wound. Let's just hope I'll manage to connect the new battery correctly and that there aren't any other issues effing things up...

About damn time

I heard on the news today that the UN has finally passed a resolution that states that it's a human right not to be persecuted for one's sexual orientation. A great decision in my opinion and about damn time it happened.

No one should ever have to hide part of who they are just because there are narrow-minded bigots infesting the world. There is a reason why one has something called "private" life. What does it concern anyone else what gender a person's chooses for his or her partner, after all? As long as it's consensual and both (or everyone, in cases of polygamous relationships) are of legal age I don't see why it should concern an outsider how the partners live their private lives.

The only thing bothering me is that it's taken so long for a resolution like this to come into effect. I shudder to think of all the people who have been persecuted, ridiculed, abused or even killed/executed because of their sexual orientation up to now. And, unfortunately, I am too cynical to believe it will end completely just because the UN has decided so. As long as there are narrow-minded idiots out there who are unable to stop sticking their nasty paws into other people's private business this world will continue to force people to hide who they are and what they like. I blame a lot of those narrow-minded views on sexuality and the likes on religion. I've never quite understood where religion applies to human relationships, really. It's a lot of rules that frankly don't seem to fit in anywhere other than in the narrowest and most bigoted world.

I want to see a more open-minded world where no one should have to be afraid to be who they are (provided they don't hurt others in doing so). Sadly, such a world will never exist. So I'll just hope that this UN resolution will at least help to give a few more people some peace of mind, and that the UN won't cave in at the pressure from countries built on outdated and bigoted views.

Go UN! Stand strong and do what you're supposed to be doing: Protect the rights of all human beings.

Politics, public opinion and other loose musings

These last few days the media seems to be wallowing in the news about Usama bin Laden's death. Wherever I turn the headlines scream it out (granted, I've mostly turned in places where the evening newspapers reign). First it was the whole deal about him "finally" being dead after a ten year long hunt. And now that the first awe about that seems to have died down speculations about how he died, when he died and so on have taken over.

While I am sure some people can finally sleep well at night now that he is supposedly dead (I'm still faintly sceptic since it seems the only picture of him "dead" so far seems to have been a photoshopped fake from 2009) the thing that affects me the most is the absurdity of how big of a news item it has become.

Frankly, I feel distinctly ill at ease when I see this type of single-minded focus, this right out wallowing in someone's death. I don't know how bad he was, I don't defend what he did, I know what his group claims to have done, I've seen the footage about 9/11 more times than I can remember, but still, while the Western world (including those countries that really haven't ever been in danger of the al-Qaida) celebrates they seem to forget that bin Laden was a human just like everyone else. He probably had people who actually liked him and who will truly mourn him, if he didn't have people following him most likely he'd never have been able to do what he's done.

Let's turn the scenario around: A charismatic ("good") leader of the West world has been killed (for the sake of reference let's remember the murder of JFK). The world is flooded with pictures of the place where he died, complete with pools of blood and what-not, speculations and so on about how it was done. And it turns out that there are thousands of people somewhere else cheering loudly because of his death, bragging even. How would those who relied on that person feel? We would immediately become enraged and filled with anger towards those people, right? So really now, is it any surprise so many in the Muslim countries hate the West? After all, we're doing exactly what the scenario above described right now that bin Laden has been killed.

Anyway, that wasn't really the main thing for me though. I'm neither happy nor sad he's supposedly dead. I haven't been affected either way by his existence and frankly haven't been all that interested in following what went on (other than being surprised to find out they were still looking for him). What goes on in my mind is more the issue of popularity. I know that some might think I'm way off my rocker and that my musings aren't nearly well-grounded enough for me to have an opinion. And I also admit that they're probably right. It still doesn't stop me from musing.

Apparently president Obama's popularity hadn't been all that great. And according to some sources it's better now that Usama is dead. This worries me. I've actually followed the presidency of Obama with quite a bit of interest. From my point of view (which, granted, is coloured by Swedish values and what is reported in the media, on the web and the likes) he seems to have really gone into it with a wish to make the US a better place, to improve the health of the citizens, to open up more opportunities for a better life for the majority. His health reform, the way he seems to have imposed regulations for credit card companies' right to raise interests and so on should be the good things. It should definitely gain him a lot more popularity than most presidents since he genuinely seems to care for his people and wish a better life for them. And yet I've seen a lot more negative, hard criticism from his own people about his reforms than George W Bush (who really only seemed to be aiming for more war, more oil and taking over the world while not caring a whit about his people) seems to have gotten during his time in office. At most Bush was ridiculed.

What I'm wondering is what kind of politic do people want when they think better of a head of state because a terrorist has been killed rather than for the improvements to their own everyday lives created during that head of state's time of office? Why should one person's popularity be boosted by someone else's death? To me it feels quite... nasty, really.

As for mass-murders and acts of terrorism I, under the threat of being mislabelled a religious fanatic, will now mention one of the few quotes I know from the Bible:

"Let he who is without sin cast the first stone"
What country hasn't got something like that in their history? The US quite often seems to conveniently forget the whole issue of what was done to the native Americans when the settlers (the future Americans) came to the continent and during the years of settlement. Or for that matter, the slavery. All those years white Americans treated other humans worse than cattle, forcing them to work their bones to dust and all sorts of other unpalatable acts. Or how the UK took over large parts of Asia and treated the natives there as servants, lower beings. Or South Africa with the apartheid. Or Scandinavia's vikings (who did indeed deal with slaves as well, both native and those they had stolen from other countries during their raids). The list could go on forever. There's Darfur, there's Zimbabwe and so on. Really, wherever you look, if you dare to dig deep enough, acts of terrorism, mass-murder and other dark acts of mankind will be found.

Terrorism by the way... It's a really hazy thing. In these last ten years the term has come to, almost solely, be used when Islamic groups have committed crimes against the West world. However, the Muslim fanatics does not have monopoly on committing them and is definitely not synonymous to the term. In fact, according to the UN's opinion on what is considered terrorism:

"Criminal acts intended or calculated to provoke a state of terror in the general public, a group of persons or particular persons for political purposes are in any circumstance unjustifiable, whatever the considerations of a political, philosophical, ideological, racial, ethnic, religious or any other nature that may be invoked to justify them."For reference of the exact place it was written

This text segment does not specifically point out that the act has to be committed by anti-government forces, religious fanatics or even non-citizens of the country affected. With a phrasing like that, governments, religious representants (The Catholic church and their threats of Hell, anyone?) and just about anyone else throughout history could very well have been labelled terrorists.

With that definition... Which country can, after looking back at what their own history holds, truly say they are qualified to throw the first stone?

(There are plenty more definitions of the term "terrorism", of course, but I won't list them all here. To those who really are interested Google is a great way to find stuff and Wikipedia has it's own merits).

With this I'm going to finish up for this post, I think. The gist of above text is probably just my own wish that people started to think for themselves, started to reflect on what's going on and learnt some self-reflection. And maybe a small wish that people realised that no matter who it is that died it is still a life lost, no matter what type of person it was that died.

Just because Hitler and Usama bin Laden is dead it doesn't mean the world is a better place. One or two persons' deaths can't make it so. Only the positive effort, energy and will-power of millions of people working together and helping each other, without fighting over money, resources or power, will bring about a true change for the better.

On the subject of being busy and other musings

Let's start off by talking about my car. It has been an active topic of discussion within my circle of friends and family (well, mostly my mother and me) for the last few weeks.

Anyhow, since the heat fan decided to give up a few weeks back I have discovered that I can still get some warmth into the car by changing some of the settings for the fan. It won't blow out any hot air but opening the air vents fully, combined with some other things, while driving on the highway to the stables I've found that the warm air from the engine area is pushed into the car coupé, thus keeping the worst of the fog off the inside of the wind shield. It's not a long-term solution, of course, but it works for now.

On another, related note, however: I'm starting to give up on ever finding a workshop I can trust! During a previous visit to the work shop the mechanics told me that the heat fan was in a bad shape and would have to be replaced, which is why I bought a replacement for it now that it had, in fact, gone and died. So, thinking all was well and it would be fixed I took my beloved car to the workshop this week. Sometime during the afternoon that day the work shop called me...

Apparently they had tested both the heat fan itself and the fan module (and charging a ridiculously high price for doing it) and found that nothing was wrong with them! So there I'd bought the replacement, which wasn't free y'know, completely unnecessarily. They then went on to say that most likely there was a problem with the electrical wiring which resulted in the heat fan not getting any electricity.

However, as they said, they'd only planned for the time it would've taken to replace the heat fan. When they'd decided it wasn't necessary to replace it they then went on to fix some completely unrelated, marginally important things (which, granted, probably needed to be fixed anyway sooner or later) and in the end they "ran out of time, so they couldn't check the wiring".

In other words, not only did I, on recommendation from that same work shop, buy a completely unnecessary replacement for a working heat fan... I also left my car at the work shop for a full day and picked it up afterwards, without getting the actual problem fixed. And on top of that I had to reschedule for a date at which they could check the wiring.

Long story short... As it looks right now, if I continue using that work shop, my heat fan won't be fixed until sometime in early May, at the earliest, and I had to pay for them fixing things I'd never asked them to fix. Not to mention that they failed to notice that one of the light bulbs at the front of the car was broken and should've been replaced. I mean, since they were at it, fixing things unrelated to the actual problem, why the heck couldn't they then fix the lamp?

So, needless to say, I am quite disenchanted with car work shops. Once again. I thought I'd gotten over all that when I got rid of my previous car *deep sigh*.

The thing is, though, that I will still have to take my Toyota to the work shop. Not only because I have no choice, I need a working car since I can't get to the stable where I have my horse otherwise, but also because, despite the troubles, I still love my little red pebble. I feel happy when driving it, I feel content and, most importantly, I feel safe. It's old but it's comfortable, and cute, in a washed-out, quaint way. I fall more and more in love with it as time goes by.

As an example:
This time last year, when I still had my previous car, and when the snow was turning into deep, nasty slosh, 6 times out of 10 I barely got out of the parking lot at the stables without asking for help to push the car since I got caught in the slosh.

This year, with the Toyota, I haven't had to ask for help even once. Sure, I've still had to have a bit of speed when braving the slosh but I've gotten free and away on my own every single time. My Toyota also feels much steadier and safer when driving on icy winter roads, I don't have to worry about being blown off the road every time there's a slight gust of wind and it feels like I have a much better overview of the road. I also think that the full beams on my Toyota are much better than the ones on my previous set of wheels. All in all, to me the Toyota is a better car, which makes me more motivated to grit my teeth and endure the annoyances of work shops in order to fix it.

With my previous car I used to fantasise about the day I would get rich and could buy a new car. I would fix everything that needed to be fixed on the old car... and then push it off the quay into the river. With my Toyota on the other hand... even if I bought a new car I have a feeling I would still, if possible, want to keep my little red pebble around. I'd fix everything that needed to be fixed and then use it for weekend driving or just for some evenings of nostalgia. I love it that much. Besides, I've always dreamt of having a Toyota.

And now, on a completely unrelated matter:
Apart from car business I've been working as hard as I can to find a new job. It feels like I've sent out applications to just about every place there is (which probably is quite the overstatement) but either I hear nothing from them or I get rejection after rejection. I'm seriously starting to give up hope of ever finding work that suits my qualifications and education. I really don't want to work in sales and if I can help it I don't want to work in any stores either. I want a creative, engaging job where I get to write and create, delve into interesting topics, rack my brain for the best wording or the best visual and where every new task is different from the one before it.

Lately I have also been thinking, quite seriously, of starting my own business. I've already narrowed it down to a few names I would like to call it and I already know what I will be offering and to whom. I've also decided on what type of business it will be. Now the problem is to solidify those plans in a way that will ascertain a successful start, and to deal with the bureaucracy. So far I've borrowed a pile of books on the subject of starting one's own business, I've bookmarked a volley of websites and I've even applied to participate at an information and seminar day for those who are thinking of starting their own company. Well-informed is well-prepared in my book, after all. Hopefully I will be able to take the step into realising my company in the near future. Please, do wish me luck!

My future autobiography

I have finally decided what I shall name my future autobiography.

Cat and the cars - a match made on a bad day in hell

Yes, car trouble... once more. Then again, when have I not had car trouble? Actually, our family (or make that my parents and then me) seems to have angered the car fairy in previous lives. I've never been able to figure out another reason for why not a single car of ours has ever stayed whole for a longer time. But let's not get into my family matters. I'll just list off the cars I've driven since I got my license six years ago.

1. Suzuki Swift -'89: My first car. I bought it for the equivalent of $473 (current exchange rate) in 2003-2004 somewhere. I hadn't taken my license yet but I thought it'd be nice to have a somewhat easier car to practise with than my father's heavy battle-ship of a Volvo 240 from 1983. The Swift wasn't by any means a pretty car. It was a murky white, with one black side panel that had been added to replace a rusted up panel and the interior was a bit worn. But god how I loved my little Swift. I had nice times with that one. It was smooth, easy to drive, quick to accelerate and extremely cheap where petrol was concerned. And it always started. I remember this one time when it had been buried under a blanket of snow in the coldest part of the winter, for over a month. We decided we had to pull it out to make sure it was still ok before the snow got it too badly. So with a little help from the stable owner and her sturdy Nissan Terrano we got it out of the pile and I slid in to turn the ignition key. I didn't expect much but my little Swift purred and started smooth as anything, without a single hitch. Unfortunately it wasn't too well off where other things were concerned. The undercarriage was so rusty I couldn't use the manual jack on it without the edges sinking in, and I'm pretty sure there was a hole straight through to the undercarriage under the carpet on the drivers seat. We finally decided to get rid of it for several reasons. One was that my dog was starting to get too big for it, he took up the whole back seat. But other reasons were a) an air tube broke quickly followed by the realisation that b) the cooler looked more like the Niagara falls than anything else. On top of that I got a flat tire in a nasty bend in the road while on my way to the stables. Thankfully I wasn't driving all that fast since the road was slippery from snow. However, we still careened off the road and into a rocky outcrop, resulting in a big dent on the passenger door. Afterwards we also realised that the spare tire couldn't hold air. All of those things happened within 2 months of each other. So, yeah, my lovely little Swift wasn't so lovely any longer.
2. Dad's Volvo 240 -'83: For a short time, while my Swift was working on losing air in the spare tire, I borrowed my dad's Volvo. Hoo-boy... To this day, it's the only car, that I know of, that have gotten an engine failure and shut itself off in a downward slope. Not to mention the fact that, even though I drove it apx. 5 Swedish miles a day for a consecutive week, one day it just decided not to start at all and never did again while in our possession. I finally got the permission of my father to sell the beast to folk racing for the equivalent of $315. I still count that day as one of the best I've had.
3. Suzuki Baleno Wagon -00: Fed up with car troubles my mum finally decided we had to get a newer car. So she and I drove my little Swift to the car dealer and test drove a few cars. Finally we settled on a bottle green metallic Suzuki Baleno Wagon. It had room for the dog in the back and seemed quite fun to drive. It had a low mileage too. So we traded my Swift in for a part of the price of the Baleno and we thought things would get better... We should've known better, I guess. Just a few weeks after buying it I was testing the dog cage and was gently seeing if it fit. I swear to god I did not slam the back door, no matter what my dad was accusing me of at the time. Either way, the back wind shield went crack and dissolved into tiny, tiny pieces of glass. After that the heat shields underneath the car had to be removed and so on. I feel that there shouldn't be a single thing left on that car that we haven't had to fix. Let's not get into details, though, since it'll only depress me. Suffice to say, it came to a point where the car workshop guys knew me by my voice on the phone. So, needless to say, I was quite disenchanted with the car after 5 years of visiting the work shop. Which brings me to the latest little golden nugget (or more like faded red pebble).
4. Toyota Corolla -'87: Yes, you read it right. I switched from a '00 car to an '87. And, man, I will never regret it. The car has been in my family since my grandfather bought it in 1992. It's been through a lot of things with my grandfather throughout the years but it's a real trooper. When my grandfather passed away in 2007 my uncle bought the car from my grandmother, who didn't have a license. He used it sporadically (since he lives in Argentina large parts of the year) and in the end decided that he really didn't have any use for it since he was planning to live more permanently in Argentina for at least a year and a half. So, I gingerly asked if there was a possibility that I could buy it from him, so I could finally get rid of the moody Baleno. Instead of letting me buy it he generously gave it to me, which I am extremely grateful for. The problem with old cars is that you can more or less take for granted that they have their problems. The fifth gear on the Toyota has always been a little finicky. So, while driving the 70 Swedish miles from Stockholm to my home town, Umeå, after switching cars at my parents' place, the fifth gear simply decided it had had enough and gave up around halfway home. Hoping it was something that could be easily fixed (the fifth gear does work, it's just that the stick won't stay in position so I have to hold it there with my hand while driving) I brought it to the workshop. The nice thing with having an older Toyota, as opposed to a semi-new Suzuki, is that just about any workshop can work on them. So I got to take it to a somewhat cheaper workshop than my previous ones. Turns out they'd have to replace the whole gear box. It was also discovered that the shock absorbers in the back was in a bad shape and would probably need to be replaced. Both things are quite expensive to fix on their own and put together...Perish the thought. The last major problem (as in: will be expensive to fix, most likely) with it is that the heat fan is moodier than a woman with PMS. It only works on the highest setting and more and more often lately it's just decided to quit working even there without any provocation at all. I've always managed to fiddle it back into working though. Or rather, I used to manage to fiddle it back. As of yesterday the heat fan decided to flip me the bird and retire. So today I spent most of the afternoon trying to get a hold of the workshop (which didn't work very well so I'll try again tomorrow). And then I went to the stables. it went quite well, if you discount the fact that I was freezing my ass off on the way there. On the way home, on the other hand... I had one hand on the wheel and the other holding a combined ice scraper and rubber... thingy, in order to clear the inside of the wind shield from fog. The outside was caked with road dust and salt. Stupid as I am I thought that if I'm quick enough I should still be able to wash the outside for a somewhat improved line of sight. The fluid froze in a thin film on the wind shield, leading to me having to get off the road to scrape the outside as best I could. And then back inside and driving the last bit home in darkness, being blinded by the lamps of meeting cars reflecting on the fog and scraping the inside of the windshield about every 30 seconds. My, and I thought it was bad that time there was a snow storm making me unable to see where the edges of the road was...

So, as you can see, my luck with cars is practically nil and nothing. The odd thing is that while I felt almost homicidal every time the Baleno acted up, and could barely think of anything other than getting rid of it, I'm more inclined to hug my little Toyota, pat it on the hood and tell it everything will be all right.

I will, somehow, scrape up the money needed (thank god for salaries) to fix its "ouchie" and then we will be happy again. I do not even want to think about not having my Toyota. I love it to bits (obviously). I've never felt more safe and comfortable as when driving my Toyota this past winter. Sometimes I swear, although it's probably just fanciful thinking on my part, that I can feel my grandfather sitting next to me, smiling and doing his best to hide the fact that he is quite worried about my driving.

My conclusion is that the slogan "I love my Toyota" is more of a rule than just a fanciful slogan. At least in my case. I really, truly adore my little red pebble. And if I ever rake up enough money to actually fix all the problems with it I'll probably convert to Toyota:ism, the religion where they worship the almighty Toyota. I'd gladly take up the position of head priestess, if the spot is open.

Another candle to be lit

Today I received some sad news. Another one of my parents' cats has died.

My mother called me yesterday, asking what she should do with their cat Lukas (although my mother always insisted it was spelled 'Lucas'). He had acted strange since the day before yesterday, walking around meowing loudly and licking his fur frenetically. He'd also started picking fights with their other cat, seemingly for no good reason. From what it sounded like when she described it, it seemed like he was a bit frustrated, maybe annoyed because of the winter fur shedding. My mother described it almost as if he was behaving like he was in heat. The thing is, he was neutered around the time he turned 1 year old. Either way, it didn't sound all that serious. He ate and drank as he should, and used the litter box. I suggested she call the vet if she was really worried but it sounded like either he'd gotten lice or was just annoyed at the shedding. This morning when my mother got up from bed she made sure he ate and drank and gave him his vitamins, which he ate without any fuss. In other words, he seemed no different from his usual self.

Which is why it came as such a shock when my father called me earlier today, his voice choked, to ask if I knew where mother was working today since he needed to talk to her. I asked what it was about and he said something horrible had happened.

Apparently he had walked into the living room during the early afternoon and found Lukas dead. I don't have any details as of yet and my mother asked me not to call today since she'd only be crying in the phone.

Lukas was a great cat. He was big, weighing close to 9-10 kg. A big black lump of attitude and cuddles. He had firm opinions, much like any cat, but could always be reasoned with, at least to a certain limit. He was my mother's cat for the most part. She was the one he clung to, always staying close to her whenever he wasn't out hunting whatever thing he believed he'd be able to catch. Many a night they spent with my mother brushing his fur while he was oozing out over her bedspread in a mass of perfectly relaxed cathood.

Despite his obvious favouritism of my mother (which might also be because I was usually the one doing the bad stuff, like forcing him to eat his anti-parasite pill or cutting his claws) he was still a very special cat to me as well. I was there when he was born. For the whole evening and a bit into the night I stayed by the box his mother was in when giving birth, and soothed her when she got agitated. I slept fitfully, always attentive to her every noise and movement. And then they were born, one black and one grey/white little ball of cuteness. I saw Lukas and his brother, Maximus, open their eyes, learn to walk steadily and shortly thereafter raise hell with their weary but strict mother keeping a sharp eye on them. And then as he grew up to become the huge but mellow bundle of purring fur that he was up until today.

I will sorely miss him, just like I am still missing the other cats we've loved and lost: Lukas' grandmother Mia, his grand uncle Kim, his older brothers Bilbo, White nose and Grey nose and his younger brother Rufus; my sister's cats, the sisters Tiger and Doris. All I can do now, though, is hope that wherever they are now, be it Heaven, the Rainbow bridge or just gone, they are not suffering and that they knew, during their always too short time here on earth, how much I and my family loved them.

While most of us walk into it with open eyes, knowing we will one day have to part from our beloved pets, nothing can ever dull that pain when the animals leave us behind to mourn them. No matter how well prepared one thinks one is, it still hurts like one's heart is being ripped in two.

My thoughts go out to my parents and the one cat that is left to wonder where his friend, his half-brother, has gone. And I will mourn on my own, with my own cats for support.

And when All Hallow's eve comes around this year, Lukas' candle will join the others burning in my home in remembrance of the persons, humans and pets alike, that have passed on. And I will cling to the hope that Lukas's will be the only candle joining the others this year.

Rest in Peace, big little Lukas!

We will miss you!