“Romeo Is Bleeding”

‘Romeo is bleeding, he’s got a bullet in his chest….‘ is how the irrepresible master songwriter Tom Waits sings about two gang lovers, and these are the words that have been ringing in my head all week.

You see, last Sunday,… I lost my Juliet.

A relationship that was built up over twelve glorious years ended after her gentle passing, she could not cope any more, of a sudden, unforgiving, heart-breaking  week long illness, and Romeo is bleeding.

Juliet was not my lover, but she was my girl, she was not someone I shared a meal with, but we spent many hours together being nourished by each others company. I never sought her, she found me, and warmed my heart, she was in need, and I was glad to offer shelter. She loved me, and I fell in love with her. Over twelve long years, she was always there, my constant companion, and now she is gone, and Romeo is bleeding.

Juliet was the family pet, a stray cat that ‘chose’ us, me, twelve years ago. At the time I wasn’t a cat lover, and  although never a cat ‘hater’, I was ambivilant when it came to cats…to give you an idea, I am more a Staffordshire Bull Terrier man, than a pussy cat man. Juliet changed all of that.

She wasn’t taking no for an answer, she was determined to please herself, as most cats do, but she was also determined to never do that at the expense of anyone else. She was incredibly affectionate for a cat, nearly human at times, and knowing that she is now gone is hurting. Romeo is bleeding.

She would catch mice, rats,and even rabbits, even happily bringing them inside to let me know that she was also earning her keep. She also sought off many a pretender to her throne, not in any kind of aggresive way, but more in a way that communicated to her ‘rivals’ that they weren’t my type. She knew me, and she knew me well.

And so last Sunday, after a week of vet drips, and tablets, and perk ups and come downs, I found myself holding her at 10 pm, as her breath quickened. I thanked her for being her, for coming into my life, and kissed her forehead, she began to purr, something she hadnt done all week, and I said to her….’It’s ok Julie, go if you have to……..’

She drifted to sleep, I wiped a tear from my eye, wrapped her gently in a towel, and carried her to my bedroom, and lay her down on the floor next to my bed. I went to sleep hoping, beyond hope, that maybe she may pull through to the morning, however, if truth be told, I already knew she had gone. My Juliet had gone, the last surviving member of the menagerie that had lived in the Voice House.

If she taught me anything over twelve years, then it has to be this, it is always possible to change your perceptions of things, be they about animals, people, countries, cultures, she filled my heart because I allowed it to open, she was an amazing creature.

And now she is gone, my Juliet, my @VoiceCat, my mate. Maybe she is starting another journey, as her last one has been done.

Juliet has been given, and has been taken away, and Romeo is bleeding.

Rest in beautiful peace, my dear old friend.

 

Voice

 

 

“The Hand”

Such a simple statement, such a simple image,

The Hand.

Think about it, what images come to mind, when you hear or read those words…. The Hand?

Is it influenced by hope? Or influenced by bitter experience? Does it conjure up Welfare recipients? Or does it supplant an artist at work? Whatever your image, The Hand, is a metaphor, and our way of receiving its image is our life experience. The Hand can also be a deal from a Deck of Cards, or the very thing that helps us cling to the last breath of life.

The Hand, helps us enormously in life, sure, it even allows this Voice, to type these thoughts, (unless you think I have a very dextrious appendige that isnt a Hand)….., Yes, the Hand allows us to greet, to say ‘Hi’, to express opinions on referees and politicians, to butter toast, to butter lovers, to butter ourselves……it’s a pretty impressive thing really..

So why should I write about such a thing?

Well, you see, most people in life are born lucky enough to have two of them…and knowing what one hand can achieve, imagine the capabilities of two?

The simplest example of this, what it means to have two Hands, is the wonderful, astonishing, fulfilling power of what Two hands can do. They, combined, can build bridges, hold people close, play instruments, connect a parent to their partner and child in a walk in the park, and they can help support a saddened head overwhelmed in the throes of life.

But the greatest thing Two Hands will ever achieve……is applause, that sound of instinctual appreciation, communicated, spontaneously on many occasions, as a way of simply saying….I like what you do, thank you.

Alas, that is two hands,

The singular Hand,…. ‘The Hand’…. has an equally effective role in life, however, when on a solo run, it is less likely to be heard. But boy, it can be powerful, as it will act on its own, without approval of a majority, or the need to be of a collective, it will just do what it can do, and most times, when isolated, will act out of love.

It will be brave enough to admit that it cannot applaud you, but it will endeavour to create that sound briefly by patting you on the back,…. it may not be strong enough to hold you, but it will linger long enough to set you free,….. it may struggle to light a candle for you, but, once lit, it will hold your candle with passion, However.

The single greatest thing ‘The Hand’ can do……is to reach out to another, and that is when the applause resonates…….

and so, I raise my Hand to you…

Voice.