Go Gently Into That Dark Night - In Memoriam

I killed my beloved friend today.  I guess we are fortunate in this instance that animals are legally considered nothing more than property so I could humanely end his life before cancer slowly and painfully stole it from him.  Thank you Tobias for almost 12 years of unconditional love and faithful companionship. 

When I emailed friends, family and colleagues to tell them Toby had been diagnosed with cancer and would soon be leaving us, many asked
to come by and say their goodbyes.  And so many did.  I am not the only one who is mourning his passing.     

My administrative assistant at work is NOT a pet person.  She is an extremely well dressed, well groomed, well coiffed, well put together and classy lady and she does NOT understand why people like to live with creatures that shed, and have bad breath and slobber and stink, etc.  I frequently brought Toby to my office but I always kept him away from Helen, respecting her right to not have to have her workspace invaded by my dog.  But after a while I noticed that when he came in she would talk to him.  And then I would see her walk by him and dip down as she passed to pat his head or scratch his back.  I teased her saying that I kept catching her secretly liking me dog and she responded, "You know, I DO secretly like him!"  Soon it was no longer a secret.  She joined the number of people at the office who kept treats in a drawer for him and would let him eat a treat straight out of her palm.  She learned that he loved to have his butt (lower back just above the tail) scratched and would scratch him there.  She would hold his face in her hands and talk to him.  Saliva and pet hair on herself or her clothing seemed not to be of concern when Tobias was around.  I had been absent from work for several weeks following some surgery during the time I found out that Toby had cancer, and when I returned to work Helen asked me about how I was doing.  After we engaged in the normal social pleasantries she turned to walk away, but then turned back around and asked with tears in her eyes, "How's our boy doing."  Many people at work had asked after him and I managed to control my emotions and respond to their queries without tears.  But when Helen asked about "our boy," I lost the battle.  Such was the loving, funny, playful nature of my Toby that he had won her heart when no other animal ever had.    

I considered spending the extra $120 to have a private cremation so I could get his ashes back and honor him by spreading them someplace beautiful that we loved going to together.  So many places came to mind.  But Toby was a rescue dog.  And he loved other animals (except puppies, he always hated puppies).  This was a dog that would patiently wait while the cats ate from his bowl poaching his food before beginning his meal.  This was a dog that let kittens jump on his tail when he walked past them and then let them hang on for a short ride.  An animal rescue agency rescued Toby and gave us a chance to have almost twelve years together.  I decided a better way to honor him was to donate the money to an animal rescue organization, to give others the chance to have the type of loving companionship we shared. 

I know what many people think.  I know what many of them are probably saying as they witness my grief.  I am single and childless by choice but I can hear people saying that for single childless people our pets are substitutes for the "real family" they feel we lack.  Tobias was funny and fun and clever and playful and intelligent and mischievous and joyful and most of all loving.  If I had a husband and ten children he would still have been worth my love and my tears.

Family, friends, colleagues, my vet.  Everyone who cares about Toby or me or us both told me letting him go was the right thing to do  And intellectually I know it was.  But my heart feels differently  I killed my beloved friend today.

Drink Responsibly

Three cats share my house and my life. My cat is named Buddy Boy Beignet (he is a Katrina rescue, hence the Beignet). I let my dog Toby also rescue two cats, although not from Katrina (he is a rescue himself and has the biggest heart of almost anyone or anything I have ever known). One of Toby's cats is named Lizzie Beth (who is so naughty my Brother calls her Lizzie Borden). The other cat is named Mia Sarah.

Beignet is a perfect cat. He is never naughty. He is sweet and playful and always up for a cuddle, never scratches the furniture, plays sweetly with the other animals, and rarely misbehaves. His only remotely naughty behavior is that he likes to turn the simple household chores of changing the sheets and/or making the bed into a challenging game.

Lizzie Beth and Mia Sarah, on the other hand, are the cutest feline terrorists you are every likely to meet.
They scratch the furniture,

have

have ruined a blind by turning it into a kitty hammock,

lay belly up in the middle of the floor and then act indignant when you trip over them,

inexplicably get muddy paw prints halfway up the wall,

bully each other and Beignet and Toby, get on furniture where they know they don't belong. . . .

But worst of all?  They LOVE to play drinking games.

Lizzie's drinking game goes like this. She wants to have a taste of whatever is in your glass. She is not discriminating. It can be water, or a soda, or wine, or a beer, or a milkshake, or milk or . . . . However, she realizes that lapping up a puddle is easier then drinking from a glass. So if you are not paying close attention to your glass, she will simply knock your beverage over so she can lap up the ensuing mess.

Mia Sarah's drinking game is less messy but more insidious. She is a dipper. She sticks her paw in your drink and then licks the beverage off of her paw. Dip, lick, dip, lick, dip, lick.  This means that if you ever leave a drink unattended at my house, upon returning to it, you should just pour it out and start afresh. For in your absence it is highly likely that a paw has been inserted into your beverage in order to provide Mia a taste.

There has been a lot of debate in America in recent years about racial profiling and what a terrorist looks like. The two biggest acts of terrorism committed against my country in my lifetime were committed by persons of different races, different ethnicities, different religions and different nationalities.  For me the debate is ludicrous.  I know that terrorism knows no single, race, religion, gender, ethnicity, nationality or national origin. 

And there is little need for debate or profiling in me house.   We know what the face of terrorism looks like: