Saturday, August 1, 2009

What could be Better

than having your daughter make you some pancakes on Saturday morning?

Not much.

Thursday, July 30, 2009

Catharsis in Prose

I suppose I’m writing this for myself more than anything, but it’s my blog, so I can pretty much do what I want for whatever reason.

Back in May, our cat got sick, so we took her to the vet. I wrote about it here.

It’s now almost August, and while things improved for a while, they started going downhill again about 2 or 3 weeks ago. We decided to discontinue her IV treatments since they were obviously not helping anymore. All we were doing was putting her in needless pain to prolong the inevitable. By last week she had stopped eating regularly, and Monday was the last time she ate anything at all. She was getting weaker and weaker by the day.

On Tuesday night, she followed us up to our room and slept on the bed all night. Although she used to do that every night without fail, she hadn’t done it since June. It must have taken everything in her to make it up the stairs.

By Wednesday night she had become so weak that she was barely able to stand. Although she had weighed around 9 pounds at her maximum, she had probably dropped to around 4. She was still bright and alert, but her body was wasting away in front of us.

She was in pain, and we knew it. The Wife and I had a heart-to-heart and knew it was just a matter or time. We had to do the right thing by her.

I called The Wife from the office this morning and asked her if the appropriate arrangements could be made. She’s a rock at times like this, and for that, I am forever grateful. I knew full well that my colleagues and subordinates didn’t need to see me trying to make that phone call. Not good for morale and all that.

When she called back, she said an appointment was set for 4 this afternoon. That way we could take care of it before we had to pick up The Kid. She didn’t need to be involved. I called my boss and cryptically explained that I needed to leave a little early. She could tell it was something I needed to do.

We got home, spent a few final moments alone at home, and got in the car.

The event itself was what it was. I’ve been through it before, and it wasn’t easy then either. A dose of anesthetic, and she fell asleep. Once it had taken effect, the doctor administered the final sedative that would end her pain. The wife and I were petting her the entire time, and she had her head lying on my arm. Once it was done, the doc left the room so we could be alone. I’m not ashamed to say that I cried. We both did. A lot.

We composed ourselves as not to frighten the other patrons, picked up the empty cat carrier, and left. Vets never make you pay for this sort of thing right away. It’s probably best that way.

We returned home to a house with filled with reminders of the life that no longer lives here. Her food dish, water bowl, and even the litter boxes. Removing them is part of the process. It has to be done, and putting it off won’t help.

Lastly, there’s The Kid. At her age, she can’t comprehend what has happened. She’s looking around for Prynnie, and asking where she is. I try to explain, but she won’t understand for quite a while. And that’s OK. As long as she remembers, as long as we remember, Prynnie will always be with us.

Anyway, now I have 4 cats waiting for me on the other side. So I have that going for me. Which is nice. :=)

Wednesday, July 29, 2009


No, it isn't a make of eastern European car. Nor is it a recently discovered stellar object.

That's how a 2 year-old refers to lasagna.

We decided it was time to begin The Kid's culinary training, so we figured lasagna was as good a place to start as any.

Mixing the cheese was something she could handle. Moderately well, anyway.

How did it turn out? You tell me...

More importantly, did The Kid like it?

Oh yeah.