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Saturday, March 25, 2017

Superpowers

My sweet Coco
Rocco, the once and future king
If The Amazing Bob was here now, he'd hug me with with magical, reality defying strength. One TAB hug could bolster my spirits and allow me to survive, thrive and triumph over all the bad dookie comin' my way – every last damn bit of it.

Our boy in his fierce-ish outdoor days
TAB was totally a magic man.

If Rocco had been human instead of a formerly dressed wonderboy kitten, his age at checkout time would have been 73 – just one year younger than TAB. No wonder they got on reasonably well (as well as Rocco got on with anyone besides me, that is) – they were of the same generation. Rocco'd probably been in Nam too...oh wait..nevermind.

MONDO guilt took no time at all to move in and get busy. Of course – guilt is my superpower after all. I was already fretting over all I should’ve done for my boy. Like, ya know:
  • Baked haddock for din-din EVERY night (as opposed to every other night)
  • Endless strokes with that soft brush he loves and I shoulda done this twice daily
  • I shouldn’t have complained when he woke me a 2AM because he was bored (I should've gotten him Netflix. Dammit!)
After it was all over yesterday, I added in Did I do the right thing by him? Did I end things too soon? Honestly? No, it wasn't too soon. I chose the right path AND I cosseted the hell out of my former feral every single day. He was the household king. Rocco had a good life here in Chez Valhalla.

And then last night I dreamt I was sifting Coco’s litter box (FUN! No?). There were endless poops to take out. CLEARLY, with my mania over poor Rocco’s health, I’d been neglecting my princess! I gotta stop this shit. My little princess gets shedloads of affection, attention and treats.

Today I’ll continue to clean the bedroom – Rocco’s home for the last year+ (after his basement dwelling days and brief flirtation with first floor life). Maybe Coco will venture back in.

It’s rilly fuckin’ weird to sleep in a bed without TAB and Rocco in it.

Friday, March 24, 2017

It was time

Today was my fierce former feral's last day. Jen shares some memories of our handsome, odd boy.

Rocco first appeared a few weeks before we moved to The Neck.  Actually it was his shadow that appeared and it engulfed us – long, pointy eared and giving the impression that a giant beast was sneaking up behind us while we sat enjoying our first view of Hingham Bay from the bottom of the seawall steps. When we turned to find out what creature had cast such an ominous shadow, we cuaght a glimpse of the tip of his head from above. It was just Rocco – a tiny, curious, adorable, fluffy tuxedo kitten who would later become a giant part of our lives.

Once settled in our new houses, Donna and Bob cast their magical cat net, hoping that Rocco might fall in and make their home his own. They left food outside, sprinkled treats around their door, lay cushions out in the warm weather and a heated cat-house in the cold. Rocco gladly accepted their generosity but was never quite able to muster the courage to cross their threshold. He was most comfortable outside, where he remained for about ten years.

Little did Bob and Donna know but for probably half of those ten years, Rocco was forming a plan.  He was going to retire one day, and when he did, he was finally going to join Bob and Donna inside their comfortable, warm, loving home. Good plans take time though and, being a smart resourceful cat, Rocco didn't rush it. Nor did he mention to either of them that one day they'd all be collecting their Social Security checks together. Imagine their surprise, one chilly morning, when Rocco dashed between Donna's legs, into their living room!

Bob and Donna were the perfect housemates for Rocco. They rolled with it when Rocco moved into their basement for his first two 2 months indoors (being inside was scary!). And they rolled with it when he decided he'd had enough dusty subterranean lair living and moved up to their bedroom (where he would remain for the rest of his life).  Bob and Donna simply loved Rocco, and wanted him to be comfortable and happy, and Rocco loved them right back.  Never had a more deserving sweet kitty found such wonderful, loving human doormats.

Bob would've been heartbroken at Rocco's passing today. Donna will dearly miss her supportive four legged little buddy who has seen her through these last eight months without The Amazing Bob.  I believe Rocco held onto life as long as he did so that he could be there for his best pals Bob and Donna, during the hardest times of both their lives.  He was good like that, a true rock, the wonderful Rocco.
Time spent with a cat is never wasted.
~ Colette

The BIG Day

Dr. Keith, the mobile vet, will be here at 11 to have a look at my sweet feral boy.

How’s he doin’? Our Rocco’s alert and even purred a little yesterday. He ate well too but his litter box remains poop and pee free this morning. Can’t be a good sign. I am SO damn scared.

Coco is blissfully unaware that Death may too soon be paying our wee casa a visit. She and Rocco have never been chums – passive aggressive adversaries is more like it. If he goes on the Dearly Departed list she WILL notice and mourn in her own zoomy way though.

In the healthcare world outside Valhalla, 45 is reportedly having a sad that he backed the Republican Death to All Peasants Plan before pushing for tax reform.
The Times reports Trump did not realize when he agreed to the agenda late last year just how intense of a fight healthcare would be until this week, following harsh criticism and Congressional Budget Office estimates that showed millions more would be uninsured.

This realization has led him to pine about the tax cut plan he should've pursued instead. (source)
Yeah, like Trump/RyanCare wasn’t just a big fucking tax cut plan for the wealthiest of Americans anyway.

There’s just no good bloody news today. At least not yet. Who knows, maybe Dr. Keith will have something hopeful in her bag ‘o’ medico tricks. Maybe Ryan and his crew of fellow granny starvers will fail in decimating the flawed but tremendous ACA. Possibly I"ll lose 20 pounds due to needless worry by 11AM when Dr. Keith arrives, looks at my boy and says OH, his framahoosits is just out of alignment. This sparkly magic pill will have him right as rain by dinner time. HEY, that could so happen...right? RIGHT?!!

Thursday, March 23, 2017

Clean(ish)

Wanna know a great way to rid the house of shit tons of unnecessary paperwork? Do your taxes.

I spent more time looking for receipts and shit  than doing the actual tax prep paperwork. How's that? While I'd a good idea where all the necessary bits and pieces were (I DO SO have a filing system...of sorts) it just took some, not insignificant, effort to plow through all the crap. Ya know, I’ve got a pile of papers labeled health crap – somewhere in all those AARP ads, magic BUY NOW hearing aid offers and print outs from my last dozen medic appointments is the 'script money list from 2016 and my1095-B.

Also too, WHERE did I put 2016's check registry?

Dropped off the paperwork to the accountants yesterday morning and feel like a giant weight's off my head. Ok, I'm also happy as hell to see a somewhat cleaner house. As I do every year, I'm planning to redo/update my filing cabinet so all that's in there is what I'll need for 2017 taxes. Ya see, I wanna get back to how I used to do my taxes – the minute I got all the necessary shit in the mail, I sat down did the math, submitted it and BOOM had my refunds before March.

Organized, I can DO organized. Oh yes I can!
Christina's World – Andrew Wyeth
Rocco's World
The next way to get a cleaner/less grungy house is to have a sick cat. Yes, my poor dear Rocco remains, ultra sadly, on the DL. He had a couple less bad days but none recently. I'm afraid of what the mobile vet, who'll be here Friday morning, will say. Considering how alert he is, that he's eating and using his litter boxes (though sometimes doesn't quite make it), he prolly isn't in for the Big Sleep just yet. That he's now, not able to use his back legs at all, doesn't fill me with mega loads of hope though. There needs to be a magic fucking pill to make him all better! Also too, it should taste like haddock – he likes haddock.  He gets a baked filet for dinner every night now.

Back to how my house is getting clean due to my boy's illin' – I'm mopping and sweeping a LOT these last few days. It's that whole not quite making it into the box thing. *sigh* my poor old kitten.

Another weird thing, (besides the clean floors), with Rocco being lame there's no wake up call. Yes, yez, I’ve kvetched about his 2AM I’m-not-hungry-or-anything-just-thought-we-could-mebbe-have-a-nice-chat-about-dunno-kibble wake up calls. I’m used to having him in the bed with me, feeling his heavy feets trampling over me at hideously early hours, me begging him for just five more minutes.

I miss my feline disrupted sleep.

Wednesday, March 22, 2017

Still Bleeding

It's not even 9AM and I think I need a glass 'o' the grape already.

In the midst of our current horror-show political landscape, it seems the BernieBros are right back at it – crying about Hillary being mean and crooked and Sanders is a saint who TOTALLY would’ve won against Trump.

This is helpful to the Resistance…..HOW?!

MAYBE Sanders coulda won but, since he lost the primary, we’ll never know, now will we? These folks, to my mind, lack a firm grasp on what the Left was and is up against. BOTH the House and Senate remained in the Republican camp. That's a biggie, chums. Would a President Sanders have been able to get the “right” to change their nasty-ass ways? Would they’ve eschewed their dangerous, callous, rapacious voting habits for a Prez Sanders? Would they have embraced decency and gotten their Kum Ba Ya on for him?

Kinda really doubt it but, ya know, we’ll never know.
How’s ‘bout we focus on the here and now. IF we can get rid of the Criminal in Chief – well, yea us but then we’ve got to work on the rest of the racist, on-the-take, dimwitted (why, heLO Dense Pence!) misogynistic, tiny dicked fuckwads.

Make no mistake mes ami, the “right” WANTS a dictator, they want to BE the dictator’s water carriers and right hand men. That’s where, I’m certain, they feel the money’s at and that’s all they care about. That and putting a firm jackboot to the necks of us blacks, browns, women, poors, olds, gays, disableds and whoever else they judge as different, unworthy or just plain rube-ish.

IF Republicans ditch the Mango Douche, it’s only because he’s become too obscenely obvious and proudly bellicose in his criminality. The Republicans think of themselves as smooth, stealth, likable overlords and, they may come to feel, Trumplethinskin's crossed their line. Will they ever reach that point though? Seems doubtful – he's still more of a convenient distraction and not yet a big enough negative to their vile machinations.

Maybe soon though, huh? Clumsy, traceable treason MIGHT be something they can't fully ignore.

But, but Bernie woulda won hands down and we’d have free college and Medicare for all RIGHT NOW if only…if only…Yeah, yeah, Trump being prez is ALL Hillary and the Dem establishment's fault because.....because you've got romantic, utopian dreams and Bernie is the embodiment of them. Gotcha. You may've noticed that the U.S. is a smidge bigger and more diverse than oh...say...Denmark.

Back to our reality though – we need to turn both the House AND Senate. It’s not just the White House that needs to be captured. Who's up for reelection in 2018? The GOP's defending just eight senate seats to 23 for the Dems. Can we all support and work towards getting some solidly liberal, real candidates elected?

ALSO, I only mention it (this is via my pal Jenny and I wholeheartedly agree!):
Daily Action: Tell your senators to postpone Gorsuch hearings until the FBI has completed its Russia-Trump investigation. (844) 241 1141
Obvs I've not reached Placidityville yet. Workin' on it though!

Tuesday, March 21, 2017

The Once and Future King

Clint Eastwood WISHES he had this steely glare.
I've just GOT to acquire some chill about my fuzzy boy. He's up, he's down, his appetite present and then not.

Yesterday in the late afternoon, I found him ON THE BED in a lovely patch of sun. He'd managed to scale the, mebbe, 18" of boxspring and mattress all on his very own! When I brought his din-din up later, he allowed that he preferred it in his usual dining area (by the window) instead of at bedside. All this and he used both his new and old litter boxes. I'd put a new one, with lower containment walls, out for him – this one is, apparently, for pee while the tall walled one is for poops. K. Whatever works.

Of course I was all mega jubilant – MY BOY IS HEALED! This morning though, he's awake and alert but not keen on getting outta bed. Also, he wanted catnip/tuna treats instead of his regular brekkie.

Ya know, I totally get that he might be workin' this lame shit. Hells bells, I sure would.

All the same, I think I'm gonna call in the mobile vet. A friend turned me on to Doctor Jo's Travelling Pet Clinic.
offering mobile veterinary services to the South Shore area of Massachusetts including Weymouth, Quincy, Hingham, Braintree, Cohasset, and surrounding areas in Plymouth and Norfolk counties.
YES! Last time I looked for a mobile/visiting vet, willing to come down to the South Shore, there was none. Jen talked to some crotchety asshole in Boston who was willing to visit but he had a thousand and one fiats. Basically, he made it abundantly clear that he didn't want to come down here to Valhalla for an illin' feral-ish boy. Yeah, fuck you asshole! Luckily, Rocco healed up all on his own.

Fuss, fuss, fuss, fuss, fuss.
I'm sick woman, get the goddamned camera OUT of my face!

Monday, March 20, 2017

Slings, Arrows, Cats and Bugs

My sweet, odd boy in the early AM dark.
To be, or not to be, that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take Arms against a Sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them.
~ Willy the Shake

 My fearful warrior ex-feral is getting much worse and I’m not sure what to do. He’s just dragging his back end now, not quite completely making it to his litter box (though he tries!) and he’s not as excited about his food (it's tuna!). Also, he only purred a tiny bit this morning. I patted and skritched for some time and, usually, he’s a jet engine the second I start.

Our boy's not 24/7 sleeping and he seems alert and hip to what up around him – he’s just not able to get up and around. I’ll try giving him haddock for lunch – maybe that'll help.

I don’t want him to suffer but I also totally don’t want to jump the euthanasia gun. I love my strange little fella somethin’ fierce!

My inclination is to hover, to beg him to eat a little something, to attempt to carry him everywhere (he's NEVER been keen on being picked up). I gotta give him space – he MAY survive this (ALL fingers crossed).

In great need of distraction (obvs), I went to my local book and vid emporium yesterday. I’m all set in BookLand. Just finished the first in Martin Millar’s fab Thraxas series and have begun a nifty little dystopian-ish/horror/thriller/Punk Rock paperback, The Empty Ones by Robert Brockway. So far, so strangely rivetting. It begins at a Ramones’ show on New Years Eve 1977 and dials up the wild from there. Psyched!

So yeah, I’m full up with reading matter but not so much with the video beguilements. I’ve never, not since high school anyway, been much a of TV watcher. Sure I tuned into Buffy and Angel (honestly now, who didn’t?) and there’s our sacrosanct weekend tea time rituals BUT, generally, the set’s dark. Since The Amazing Bob went all mortal coil-free I’ve been popping in the disks. I blew through Big Bang Theory and occasional take in a Mary Tyler Moore show (one of TAB’s faves). Needed something new though. Guess what I found ON SALE! Two collections of vintage Looney Tunes – YES!

I now have Haredevil Hare with Marvin the Martian, his faithful but dim dog K-9 AND Uranium PU-36. Awesome! I’ve got Bugs and the Three Bears, the Roadrunner in Fast and Furry-ous and WAY more. Yes, I’m totally psyched.

I also picked (again – on big sale!) Tales from the Crypt – the television show. I’ve got the first AND second seasons. Jesus I’m set for a while now. Hillel’s coming over for dinner tomorrow night – what will we watch (she giddily wonders)?

Yesterday Joe came over for lunch and movies. After a few awesome cartoons we popped in Tomorrowland. I hadn’t see it since it first came out in ’15 – I quite liked it then, even more so now. Warum? Given Trump and his team of rapacious, myopic, egoist Republican shitstain's efforts to kill off the country (MY country!), this was just the hopeful, all-is-not-lost, LET’S DO THIS fable I needed.

Will we all stay fiercely motivated, focused and organized long enough to beat the fuckers? Will I? More cartoons, visits to Berlin and cats triumphing over adversity will surely help.

Sunday, March 19, 2017

Angry? Who me?

A friend told me, the other day, that my anger levels are scary. Another said that I rock a shit-ton more rage since The Amazing Bob moved on — she’s worried about me.

Huh. I'm Furiosa all the time now? Rilly?

Yup. Mind you, neither, as far as I could elicit, feel that I’m all over the place with my passionate furies. I’m not blazing amorphous ire at friends and fam. Nope, it's directed at our desperately mentally ill, grifter asshole president and his entire on-the-take, I’ve-got-mine-so-screw-you Republican party.

OF COURSE I’m in a mondo fury about what up in Washington. The Lying-Sack-of-Shit in Chief and his supporters are out to destroy all that is good about this country. They wanna go back in time to a place where women were subservient, blacks existed only to serve, Mexicans picked produce for pennies and then went back home across the border, Indians stayed invisible on the rez and the only immigrants were from predominantly WHITE European countries. They’re steering this ship into pre-1900s territory. You know, when the rich lived in preposterously giant mansions (so cute and quaintly termed "cottages") with servants to clean their poopy bottoms. If you’re sick, NOT wealthy or white? Well mon ami, we die and we die HARD – painfully, protractedly and, preferably, unseen by our betters.

You see, me with my lady parts, advanced age, distinct dearth of wealth and the Nf2 ridden bod – I kinda take this shit REAL personal-like.

BUT
A) Is this near constant level of profound fury healthy? (Answer: Not so much, no.)
B) How much of this is transference? That is, YES of course the “right” is mondo rage worthy BUT how much of this is over TAB’s early, untimely death?

One person, who feels TAB's exit stage left is the root cause, has said that she doesn’t understand my anger – feels, given the circumstance, it doesn’t make sense. After all, I did all I could to take care of my handsome man (yes and then some). He was 74 and his cancer had come back in molto hostile spades. Sad – yes but shit happens. What’s the anger about?

I’m angry because I’m in deep motherfucking, horror-show pain that TAB’s gone. He was the center of my being, my other half, my world. I’m not mad at TAB, the good docs, any of my ire deserving relations or myself. No, I’m torrentially enraged with the very universe. How could this beautiful, fabulous, caring, stunning man’s life be over and out? NO FUCKING FAIRS!

I CAN get to this placid-ish space again. OH YES I can!
When this friend first said that she didn’t grok my fireworks, I said oh no, it’s not about TAB’s death, it’s about the state of the world. I’m just desperately sad about TAB. Umm…yes and NO.

I remember, back in another lifetime after TAB and I first got together, an acquaintance said that I seemed so much happier, calmer with him in my life. Yup. Truth. The Amazing Bob cooled down my heat soaked, serenity-free heart. Another dear friend has said that he doesn't see me as a rage queen – no, you're just a passionate soul. That’s more poetry than I deserve but I'll take it.

While this anger is normal and understandable, I’ve got to find a way back to tranquility base. Can I manage this feat without my MOST Amazing Bob?