Hello? Dr. Kevorkian?

Take a cat with ailing kidneys. A cat who has been with you as long as you have been with your husband–in fact it was your then-boyfriend-turned-husband who suggested you bring him home from the Humane Society where the grouchy little bugger weaseled his way permanently into your heart. And I’m talking about the cat, not the man. He was already in there.

So what do you do with this cat? His pink nose that turns a gorgeous bright pink when he’s happy. His amazingly bright whites that puts Sunlight Laundry Soap absolutely to shame. Your daughter has scars from this cat. You buy special food at the vet’s office for this cat. You moved apartments and took on a roommate for this cat. And now the kitty with the glued on blue plastic claws is having digestive and uh…bum…problems. Just how many accidents and ‘drop plops’ do you have to live with before it is time to play Dr. Kevorkian?

Unless said cat is evidently anguishing, how do you live with the guilt of assisting him painlessly (and I’m sure with a hefty veterinarian bill) into the great feline hereafter? I mean, he seems okay. Other than being skin and bones and guzzling water if he eats dry kibbles. And, of course, the whole bum thing. (How much stink can one cat make, anyway?) I mean, he’s still that loveable cat that gets in your face and is simply irresistible when he tries. He’s still that grumpy old goat who likes his ‘face space’. He’s still that curious guy who meows for you when you are gone. He’s still that poor abandoned cat who was rescued on your first night at the Humane Society, all grateful and purring even though he had lost part of his one ear to frostbite and had been abused and was missing a tail so nobody else wanted him or would love him. Except me.

He’s my pal. What can a girl do? What can a girl do?

All I can do is wait, hold his kitty litter encrusted paw and be his friend.

Moments

Why I love and want to be Meg Cabot: When doing revisions on her book, she wrote in her blog: “I am so close to being done I can taste it. And it tastes like chicken.”

Why my cat is weird: He loves his blue glue-on claws. He rips the clear ones off. He is also a big burly guy who walks like a bulldog, is missing one ear and half his tail. Conclusion: he’s secretly gay.

Most satisfying moment of the morning: Having a hot, steamy shower and fogging up the bathroom, then plugging the dehumidifier in and telling it to go for it.

Why my cat owns me: He is starving himself away to nothing so I will relent and feed him nothing but wet food. Which of course, I now am doing at $1.34 a can since he has kidney problems.

Why my cat likes to lick the water from the shower: He refuses to drink like a normal cat from the water dish. Instead, he chooses to dab a paw in the water and then delicately lick the water from his paw, hence making the water bowl water undrinkable due to the murky greyness of clumping kitty litter that he then leaves in the bowl. Or water glass left unattended. Or toilet. Or shower. Or bathtub. Or…

Why you never do business with siblings: They have bullied you all their life. Why would they stop now?

Moment of joy last night: realizing that I didn’t have to get up and go to work this morning!

Moment of insanity: A small child who is so excited that you are not working that they have to show you every tiny little thing every tiny little second, because they are just so happy, they need to share it.

Moment of heart warming satisfaction: A small child who is so excited that you are not working that they have to show you every tiny little thing every tiny little second, because they are just so happy, they need to share it.

Latest addiction: Chai tea. Oh. My. God. Yum. I can’t stop thinking about it. It’s not just tea. It is like tea and water and milk and honey and warm yumminess. And really awful if you are a bit lactose intolerant. But what can you do, it is the best of coffee and tea combined. Ohhhhhh god. Could you imagine it with a bit of vanilla? I think I’m going to have to go buy some Chai tea. I wonder if it would work with Earl Grey? Let me go check my cupboard…

‘Ah Nuts’ moment: I may actually have to learn how to use Dreamweaver–which I have totally been putting off. And I suppose that means that I should also get off my butt and go and get with it and find an actual blog program. Ah nuts.

Breaking News: Computer Transforms into Fury Beast and Consumes Unsuspecting Owner

Cats, they’ll love you and miss you when nobody else will.

I can barely type my cats are crowding me so much. One is curled up and pressing into my leg, the other one is actually perched on my right arm. He’s purring too. Weird. He’s usually a lot more aloof. I guess they missed me. Unfortunately, they are making my keyboard and screen super fury. Agh! My computer is turning into a signing fury beast! (It sounds a lot like Jennifer Warnes.)

It is raining, raining, raining.

Thinking of joining a writing association, but how do you ever pick one? They are sound good…or conversely, not what I am looking for. Choices, choices, choices.

To only have my foot in the door.

Argh! My fury computer has come alive and is eating me…

Random Bits and Ends

My daughter is trying to make our old cat learn tricks. You see once upon a time, an 11-year-old girl by the name of Jean decided that she would teach her cat, Andy, how to do tricks. He was quite the performer and began a legacy of cats that do tricks in her childhood home. Alas, our cats are not so interested. Much to the disappointment of my four-year-old.

We pick up the new car tomorrow! Yipeee! And with the Golf, we’ve had more calls and another no show. Tonight we have someone who is considering buying it coming over to take a look–a friend. Cross your fingers for us.

What is it about today’s society that we don’t care much about others and are hesitant to extend common courtesies? Is it the commonness of six foot fences? We don’t need our neighbours and they don’t need us? I mean, not ten years ago if I had a breakdown on the road, cars would stop to make sure you were okay–heck, even if you weren’t broken down they would check. Now you can hang out at the side of the road with the hood up and nobody will stop. They assume you have a cell phone and will call and pay a stranger (tow truck) to help you and that you don’t need them. Maybe we are too rich. Maybe we are removed from others and their realities. We have big fences, distant emails where we feel we can say anything (we didn’t say it to their face, so the meanness doesn’t count), cell phones, fancy everything. Why borrow the neighbour’s drill when we can go buy our own? Why call on the neighbour to feed your cat when you leave when you can pay someone? You wouldn’t want to be indebted to someone. God forbid. Maybe I’m just being cynical, but I see change coming…and this time, I’m not sure if I like it. (Or maybe I’m just getting old.)

Found another friend on Facebook. Or rather, she found me.

Still researching agents. Considering joining Backspace. Looking for contests. Seems like winter is the season, not spring-summer for entering.

I was listening to Coffeehouse on Sirius radio and there was good ol’ John Lennon and that got me thinking. It must be hard for Yoko Ono and pretty much anyone with a famous significant other who lives in the spotlight and then suddenly dies. Like John Ritter’s wife–so much hubbub around his death. And I was thinking, it must be hard for Yoko to get over John. (Lennon, not Ritter.) I mean, he was suddenly taken from her, just right there on the street. All is good and then literally, BANG, he’s gone. And here, years later there are reminders of him popping up where ever she goes. She must never know when to expect his voice or face to pop up. It’s gotta be hard.

What is it about Kraft Dinner that is so appealing to little kids?