The last tupsi

Today in my little town,  it was 18 degrees outside and I ran about 4 miles at about 930 AM.  My Ipod kept me entertained with songs from the early and late 60's and many Johnny Cash songs that were a favorite of my daddy. 


I am pretty much the only person that ever runs in this town.   At least, when I am here running I never see anyone else.  People ask my brother "Is your sister home?"  They see me running and figure it has to be me.  It is nice, cold, and quiet and my mind can roam freely in my memories of this town that I grew up in. I thought about days and people gone by and Tupsi the cat at my sister's house who today would join those no longer here.   I take pictures a lot of times - like I did on this day.

This is on the top of the National Hill - Duchies dam - we used to go on picnics here when we were in grade school.

the Michigan Dam - a lot of mine shafts in this are where we used to play - and collect copper.  My mom admits to climbing in them (the mines) but I never did.  We sold copper to the tourists who would come up each summer.



Heading back into town.  It's a pretty view but certainly changed over the years.



A view from the back street.



Cows at Davy's farm coming to greet me.  They also think it is weird to see someone running.

 

The road to the little church on the hill - just a replica of the original that has burnt down.  The town used to extend all the way up to this church.



The old homestead where I grew up, still standing, still leaning slightly to the right.

I ran along thinking about growing up and all the things that the town was and is no longer.  One thing that remains is the feeling of acceptance - probably I feel more accepted now than I did as a kid.  Running in this town on these quiet streets is probably the most peaceful of all my runs even thought I don't go far. 

When I got back to my sister's house, Tupsi, the cat, was well on her way to  cat Heaven.  She was nothing but skin and bones and whined pitifully.  Each time she would whine, Willi the big lab mix dog, would give a sympathetic whimper.  He knew her time was coming.  Animals seem to know this.  

My sister had many cats named Tupsi - there was Mama Tupsi and crabby Tupsi and a bunch of other feral Tupsis that lived up in  my Grandma's old yard.  My sister fed these cats for many many years until she sold the property, and despite promising to  wait till spring till my sister found them a new home, the new owner "got rid" of the cats somehow.  Tupsi is just a name they came up with - it sounds Finnish but is just a made up name.  This dying Tupsi came from the feral cats "on the hill".  Her mama who was "crabby Tupsi" tried to hide her from Barb and Siggie but they rescued her and she had a great life with them for more than 20 years.  When my daughter was a little girl, she used to see all of my sister's cats and say "another Tupsi and another Tupsi".  Barb and Siggie had many great names for their cats - usually named after something or someone.  She has four left - Mama Meese who is really old and has legs like my mothers so I call her "Georgetta legs", DeeDee, Trollie (because she was found under the Victoria bridge - and people who live below the Mackinac bridge are called "trolls"), Mama Harold.  I am not always sure where the names come from but I am sure that Barb and Siggie have given hundreds of cats a good life and a decent burial. 

 I was stricken by how animals die sort like people do - not the fact that they die, but how they die.  I practiced my hospice skills and patted her and told her softly to go towards the light or the other Tupsis.  I tried to make her comfortable but animals seem to want to be left alone.  I just wanted somehow to comfort her in her last moments.  Actually I felt so bad for her suffering that I wanted to be an "angel of mercy" and help her on her way but had no humane way to do this.

As I watched her throughout the afternoon, I noted that she seemed to have left before she stopped breathing.  She no longer saw us - I thought she had probably herniated - or at least she was comatose.  She developed cheyne stokes respirations and the time between each breath was  longer and longer until finally she had a seizure and stopped breathing all together.

We said goodbye to her and wrapped her in a blanket and readied her for a burial outside.  My sister dug the grave and we said our silent prayers and farewells.  The rest of the animals were respectfully silent. A few of the cats are also over 20 so maybe they figured they could be next.

Tomorrow when I run, I will run for Tupsi and all the other Tupsi's that went before her.

Tupsi, in better days