When life imitates art ... or a classic sitcom rerun

I watched M*A*S*H last night. It was an episode where best friends Hawkeye and BJ got into a fight, said terrible things to and about each other, and ended up just as close as ever before the half hour came to a close. It hit home because it helped me confront and work through my guilt over my anger at my friend Kathy.

I heard from her a great deal this past weekend as I helped her (tried to help her) find a new home for her cats. My frustration mounted and mounted because she asked my advice and then didn't follow it. Her refrain as she works through this awful situation is, "through no fault of my own" and "I know it's not my fault."

Dammit! If it's not her fault, whose fault is it?

This is the fourth career she's tried, and failed at, in the 25 years we've known each other. She's cruising toward her second bankruptcy. She's simply not a businesswoman. My heart goes out to her -- at 61, she must know the rest of her life is not going to be as easy as she'd envisioned. I know the worry and regret must be eating away at her. I understand that it's to be expected that she will become increasingly undone as we approach June 6, the day she loses her apartment and has to move in with her daughter. (A daughter whose home is being foreclosed upon, as well.)

On the other hand, it's normal for me to get angry at her. She hands me a situation, asks me to fix it, and then refuses to listen to me. I spoke my vet, who told me that there's a local animal shelter that helps with hardship cases like Kathy's, providing "foster care" for her cats until she knows for sure where she'll be living. Her cats will be safe and together and in exchange, Kathy has to pay whatever she can -- presumably to reimburse the shelter for food, litter and any necessary medical care, but really to make sure she's serious about wanting them back. My vet even gave Kathy permission to use her name when contacting the animal shelter, even though they've never met. I thought this was very kind of my vet. I told Kathy about this and offered to pay up $300 for her cats myself.

She never called the shelter. Her notes are "scribbles" and hard to read … she keeps hoping her daughter's dog will get used to the cats … Etc., etc., etc. I have warned Kathy that as the weather gets warmer, shelter space becomes more and more precious because puppy/kitten season will be upon us, and she must call the shelter and see if they'll reserve a space. To no avail. And I bet that, around the 4th of July, "through no fault of her own," she will end up giving those cats away to complete strangers because her new apartment won't allow pets and all the shelters will be full up. It feels as though, once again, she's setting herself up for victimhood.

I know pointing this out to her would be cruel, and so I won't. But there's no harm in sharing my anger with my blog. Venting here helps me stay supportive to her when the situation calls for it. And, just like the soldiers of the 4077, my friends and I can clash but still care about each other.