The Cat is Fine, Long Live the Cat

We were very worried about the cat. She was acting listless, old, tired, moving around like a rusted-up robot, barely lifting her head above the horizontal to guarantee a view of the path before her.

She is old. Just a little bit older than Mary. Or a little big younger. I forget. (I'm no spring chicken, either.) Which, in cat years, so I am told, puts her in the geriatric range, somewhere between eighty and ninety.

Being the kind, compassionate cat-keepers that we are, we booked her an appointment with the veterinarian. She was due for a check-up anyway; what better time to inquire about her longevity? "Hey, doc, while you're checking the tire pressure and oil, can you take a look at the springs and seals, too?"

As was typical, we had a few days to wait before the appointment, kind of like when you try to make an appointment with the doctor and they don't have any openings until the middle of next week, and unless you're actually dying of something, they don't have time for you - and if you are dying of something, they tell you to dial 911 or head to the emergency clinic. Where they take everything entirely too seriously.

Her appointment was on Monday, so we had the chance to observe her over the weekend. She wasn't getting any better, just got slower and slower and slower. Didn't wake me at 5 a.m. Didn't eat her breakfast. Had to be carried down the stairs in the morning. Didn't meow every time someone walked near the fridge, as though we had something for her. It was obviously a serious illness. But what? Well, no cat doctors are we. It would have to wait for the diagnosis.

Being somewhat more free than most with my time recently, as my schedule consists of half-time working and half-time looking for work, I was able to take the poor kitty into the vet on Monday. The actual inspection of the cat was brief and very hands-on: the vet took the cat in her hands and kneaded her like a large mound of dough, announcing the state of the organs as she plied them. "Liver feels good, kidneys are good, no obstructions in the bowels." I figured she must have X-ray implants in her palms. "She's breathing a little fast." Possibly due to the fact that she's being turned into a pizza.

In the end, the analysis was inconclusive. "She's old." Yes, we knew that. "There's nothing conclusive from the external observation, but ..."  Wait fro it. "We can do a complete blood & urine screen ... for $200."

Note to vet: it would be better to postpone the announcement of fees until the concerned owner has committed to the idea of additional investigation.

$200! Good grief! For two hundred dollars, the pet shelter will give me half a dozen cats in far better shape. Why spend good money on an old cat that is nearing the end of its lifetime anyway?

Needless to say, I politely declined the offer, and instead took the poor kitty home (after paying $55 for the fifteen minute probe!) so that she could die in peace.

At home, she continued her listless attitude, lying about the house in various poses of feline decripitude, earning the sympathy and fond well-wishes of the entire family, who were practicing their grief-stricken expressions in anticipation of the actual event.

Later in the evening, Cheryl took a good look at the cat's posterior hindquarters and noticed a familiar bloody smear. She'd seen this before - the result of a clogged anal gland suddenly un-clogged. Ah-ha! Mystery solved. The cat was suffering from an abscess of some kind. That also explains why she'd been scooting her butt across the floor last week - it was part of her self-help treatment. And it looks like it eventually worked.

That doesn't explain how the vet missed it, but sometimes even the best of us miss the obvious clues.

Kitty spent the next couple of days fastidiously cleaning her posterior regions with great attention, and her behavior slowly  returned to normal.

In fact, this morning she woke me up at the proper time (5 a.m.) and demanded her breakfast with several happy meows, and then proceeded to proffer her head and flanks for the traditional rubbing / petting, accepting all with a satisfying purr.  Once sated, she nimbly leapt to her perch by the window and proceeded to look out upon her kingdom with the contented gaze of a restored monarch.

Life was, once again, good.

Family Meeting

It's always fun to call a Family Meeting. Because it sounds so official. Because it sounds so mysterious. Because it puts everyone on edge. 

"Why are we meeting?"

"What is it all about?"

"Is this about getting a job?" 

I just love hearing those questions.

Letting them wonder.

Making them wait.

::

We didn't really have to ask Adam where he wants to go for his birthday dinner; we could've guessed without even thinking. He's very consistent. How many restaurants specialize in his favorite meal (breakfast)? 

Go ahead. 

Tell me which one comes to mind first.

Right.

I-HOP!

 

At the International House of Pancakes

So we went out to IHOP for his birthday and we all had breakfast. Eventually. (I won't go into the slow service; they were really understaffed.) It was good. And then we went home and had cake. And it was good, too. And then we all went our separate ways instead of playing games like I thought we would. (Well, I actually had a phone call ...)

Still weird to think how old he is. I remember where I was when I was his age. I'd been in New York for six months, working my first post-college job and meeting a bunch of wonderful, amazing people whom I came to treasure (and still do).

I hope he gets to have fun adventures like that some day!

::

The process of parting out Ruby has begun.

Ruby is the red '98 Subaru Legacy wagon which we got several years ago from a guy at work. We needed a car that the kids could drive to school/work. The car was relatively cheap, mainly due to the fact that the transmission was dying and it had over 350 thousand miles on it. But it ran. Mostly. And it was cheap. Mostly. So I bought it, and the kids drove it. And sometimes I drove it.

Eventually, we had to put money into it for things like brakes, tires, tune-ups, exhaust pipes, and even a new|used transmission.

But we couldn't escape the rust. Every winter, the salt gets worse. The metal corrodes. And it finally gets to the point where the structural integrity of the car is compromised, and it isn't safe to drive anymore.

There are still a lot of good parts on the car. We already traded the nearly brand-new tires from Ruby onto Sapphire (Mary's car), but that doesn't count as a part-out because it still has tires that work. In general, once a part-out begins, the car transitions from "car" to "car-cass", and the process doesn't end until the wrecker comes to the house and takes away whatever can't be used on another car, or sold.

But the exhaust pipes were replaced last year, the engine is still in good shape, the interior is clean. Mary's car is going to get the differential. Serenity is going to get her old fuel pump back. And there's probably some other parts that are still good enough to keep. No point in hauling it off to the junk yard just yet.

My car (SereniToo) needed an exhaust system, as the old one was held together with actual baling wire (but no spit). Several connection points were too far rusted to be held by anything any more, and it was getting ridiculously loud. So I pulled the pipes off Ruby and swapped them into my car. Had a bit of trouble getting a flange gasket, but that only pushed things out a day.

Old Versus New

Now my car sounds good.

But Ruby has reached the point of no return.

Now I've got to figure out where to store all the good parts after I get rid of the bad parts.

::

We invited Deb and Mason over for lunch on Sunday so we could all sit down and have our Family Meeting while Skyping with James and Tabea.

First order of business was FOOD. We grilled bratwurst outside and served lunch buffet-style.

The Boys Buffet

Girls Buffet

After the food, we had The Meeting.

The Meeting was quick and to the point. Cheryl had already prepared a 2-page summary of our talking points. And it boiled down to the following:

* I have been advised of an upcoming layoff which takes effect June 19th. My job will disappear on that day.
* Best-case scenario is that I find a job locally in short order.
* Worst-case scenario is that I cannot find a job locally and we'll have to move.

The thought of possibly having to move away from Grand Rapids is both depressing and exciting. We love living here. We have a lot of great friends. It's a great town. But we have also lived here for 13 years, and we both have the wanderlust. We would like to travel around and see the country (and the world). We wouldn't mind moving back to the West Coast, or any of the places where we have relatives.

It's too early to tell what's going to happen. GE is doing a lot to help me find a new job, either in the company out outside of it. So I'm not worried about that.

But I am going to miss my 5-minute commute to work!

====

Finally, we have Our Graduate.

She's graduating very near the top of her class, so the newspaper wanted to obtain a copy of her senior picture so they could print it in the paper as part of their Top 10 Senior series. They requested a copy of the the picture and provided one of those photo contracts which essentially gives them full reproduction rights to infinity. We sent along the contract to our photographer, who asked to speak with one of their staff because some of the contract language was too ambiguous.

They never replied.

So, thinking on our feet, we had Mary go outside and sit on the front porch and took this little gem:

Mary's "Unofficial" Graduation Portrait

I still can't believe how grown-up she is!

You'll Always Be First

Dear Adam,

You'll always be first. No matter what else happens, no matter how many years go by, you'll always be the one who first taught me what being a father is all about. Not just the fun and games, the laughing and playing and singing and reading and watching silly movies (and quoting them endlessly), but also the sad times when I made mistakes and tears would flow and hearts would break and there was nothing I wanted more in the whole world than to pick you up and hold you close and make everything all right.

You taught me all about sleepless nights and worrying about the breathing thing and the absolute joy of finding out that it is actually possible to sleep with a baby on your chest; you taught me how to rock in the chair without making a sound, how to hum a lullaby so quietly that no one but you could hear; you were the first to show me the absolute wonder of watching a child learn to read; you were the first to laugh at my silly voices and goofy pantomime.

From you I learned the ache of having to let go, to trust that other people had something to offer my children, too. To watch as you went out into the world and made friends on your own, learned skills I could not teach, traveled to places I had never been.

Not everything has gone according to plan. There has been a lot of heartbreak along the way, but there has been so much more joy, not in the things that have happened with and to you, but in the fact that you were here to experience them, that you came into the world as a blessing to my life and the lives of the people who know you and love you, that you continue to learn and grow and stretch your mind, your heart, your soul.

You are a precious person to me, and you make me proud - not because of what you do or what you know or what you dream to be, but because of who you are -- your heart is strong and powerful and deep, an endless reservoir from which many visions flow.

I look forward to those visions, to the growing of your soul, to the revelation of the road which is your life. No one can see the twists and turns on the trails that others blaze; no one can walk the exact same path as the one you will choose.

You'll always be the first.

Happy Birthday!!