Rain.

April 15, Hemet.

Today it rained all day, and in my heart too.

There was a mass in the tent last night, the first of the Holy Thursday, Good Friday and Easter Sunday trilogy. The Thursday mass is called the Evening Mass of the Lord's Supper.
As with the mass this month this one was held in the tent, around the ring. Father Robert Poandl flew in on Wednesday from Cincinnati. He belongs to the Glenmary Home Mission, a North American religious group dedicated to the poor, and used to be a priest in Hugo, Oklahoma, a small town home to several circuses and where Circus Chimera has its offices. There were about 25 to 30 people attending. Sometime towards the middle of the mass, Father Bob asked for volunteers for the ritual washing of the feet. "The dirtiest feet first," he said, breaking the ice. Thirteen people came up - or twelve and a half, the priest joked, as one of them was Marvin, the midget clown. They sat down in the ring, and took their shoes and socks off. Luckily this was a warm and balmy night in southern California.
The service ended with a procession for the transfer of the Holy Eucharist to the Little Sisters' chapel. The chapel is in the back of their truck, but many people had never seen it. They went in three at a time, after the eucharist was placed there symbolically.

I missed the mass entirely because I was looking for Gramo, my little blue-eyed cat, after walking the streets all day calling her.
It became evident that I'd lost her for good early this morning when I opened my door to a silent lot. I'd hoped the quiet of the night would let her find her way back to us and I'd open the door and find her there, waiting for me.
I'm heartbroken beyond what I could imagine possible, this being a pet after all. I lost Yogi, my other cat, once, many years ago, when a roommate took him and dumped him off on the side of the road 18 miles away, as I found out later. Yogi came back. I don't know how, but he found his way back, crossing highways and suburbs,and nearly starving to death. It took him three weeks. I wish I had that kind of time to let Gramo find me. My only consolation is that she was born on the streets so I know she'll be OK taking care of herself out there, she's a tough cookie. The other possibility is that someone took her, disregarding the fact that, being well fed and wearing a collar, she's obviously somebody else's pet. Judging from the number of abandoned cats we saw in the Hemet animal shelter today, there is no end to people's selfishness.
Ugliness is all around.