Monday, May 26, 2008

take pictures

The rain just started here. It's going to be a doozy of a storm tonight, and probably slide on into tomorrow like a comfortable pair of pants.
Tomorrow's my birthday; we've scheduled a hastily put-together BBQ to pretend my friends live in Chicago. Some do, most don't. Most probably aren't aware it's my birthday. That's ok; no gifts, please. Unless you can save a geriatric kitty.
If that's the case, you know what the gift is and you know we couldn't repay you.

Take pictures. The things you love won't last forever unless you love Hadrian's Wall.
In which case, I hope you find the most glorious glory hole and rejoice in your love of History. Yeah, I'm talking to you, Keith. NERD*.
Our household has been tinged with sorrow the last month or so. Her cat, who became our cat, is dying. Kidneys were failing. We started injecting saline, but he's got this wacky sack of fluid around a kidney that constipates him and stops a lot of shit from working.
He's fifteen and a half, and he's pretty much toast.


Take pictures. My first real cogent memory of this cat as more than just a cat. . . that moment when its personality shines through its nature. . . it was great.
I'm sleeping over at Andrea's. She's fallen asleep in my arms. I wake up, and Ace is sitting between us. This is a habit he gets into early and pushes for the entire time Andrea and I are together. Andrea hates it; before I was in the picture he would never pull that shit. I'm a pushover. The kitty can go where he wants with his kitty litter paws as long as he purrs when he does it.
The first time though, I wake up. I have horrible vision, so it takes a few seconds to figure out I have a cat staring right at me, laying on his side.
Dogs hate getting blown on, I figured a cat wouldn't dig it either.
I start blowing in the kitty's face. He does nothing for a few seconds, then leans in and takes the inside and outside of my nostril in his jaws. He doesn't break the skin, he just bites my nose, makes eye contact with me, and lets go.
That's the last time I blew in his face.
We had an understanding, then. He knows when we're vulnerable and could kill us, but he liked us enough to let us feed him.
Which was a cool Helsinki-esque relationship for us all.

He hasn't eaten in five days. I figure this is the end and we're saying goodbye to a hell of a cat. The tough part is saying when enough is enough. . .let him starve himself to death or put him down? Either way is a shitty decision.
I couldn't imagine this if it was my grandparents. Wait, according to sixthcircle420, you can't put your grandparents to sleep.
Good call, sixthcircle420. Hope the cab driving business is serving you well in the big apple.

Anyhow. Throw a little bit of beer down for Ace, "Mr Woobins" Kessler, my fiance's cat. He's riding off into the sunset pretty soon and we're both going to miss him.
(10 to 1 Ace ruins this moment by killing a small child tomorrow. Everyone's going to second guess us. "they should have known the cat was in dementia!")
shizzle.
too much alcohol.
no spins would be the best birthday present ever.






*Keith doesn't read this blog. If he did, the fact I called him a nerd would leave him flabbergasted. But he's gay for history.

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