Cords and Fleece

Goodnight, sweet Exene. Remember when we first met at the pound? All the other kittens hissed at you when you walked by. You were an outcast, our little rebel, so we named you after a punk and a poet, Exene Cervenka . You leapt out of the cat carrier and claimed our tiny garden apartment as your own. You were so confident, so bold, but I still worried when we left you alone with Klaus for the first time. Thankfully, you were still alive and unharmed when we returned from work, and thus began our 14-year life together. Do you remember your lusty cravings before we spayed you? Remember howling at the windows and doors, spraying the furniture, and slinking in front of Klaus, hoping he might satisfy your desire for kitty sex and kittens? Poor Klaus -- at least he tried, right? How many homes did we live in together? Six? From cold Chicago apartments with steam heaters that hissed and warmed you, to San Diego houses that fired your desire to sit in the sun. You were a steady comfort to us t...

Tell me: why does the fair bring out the stupid in me? Is it the smell of cotton candy, fried foods (on sticks), and really bad pizza all blended together into a pungent and dizzying aroma that numbs the brain cells? Does complete and total visual overload short-circuit all logic? Or maybe it’s the pig races. Either way, at the fair I tend to spend too much money, make bad decisions, or both. On the surface, we all had a great time at the fair -- especially the girls. There were Llamas, the aforementioned pig races, bovines, and foul of all shapes and sizes. There were puppets and monster trucks and salsa makers. And there was kiddy-land. Elizabeth has now surpassed the magical 36-inch mark and could enjoy most of the rides this year. Her favorite ones included long slides that whisked her downward at warp speed. She ran from one to the other, waving her tickets and being picked up and buckled in by strange (but very nice) carnies. Samantha, who is a sweetheart, enjoyed watching Elizab...

“Do you have any vitamin supplements for cats -- you know, some sort of cancer-curing vitamins?” Yes, that came out of my mouth. Yes, I was sincere. I realized how absurd it sounded just before the question mark. I went to Whole Foods seeking something to heal the wound on Exene’s cheek; something to reduce the redness and swelling in her left eye. But as I started asking questions, I realized I was seeking a cure. Her wounds aren’t going to disappear. Exene didn’t get them from a cat fight or from licking a discarded can of tuna fish. She has cancer. Now, today , I realize how powerless I am. When our pets are wounded, we douse their scrapes with antibiotic sprays, we cover them with ointments, we affix bandages to them. Naturally, seeing her wounds, I did what common sense told me to do: I tried to fix it. But I just can’t. This morning I was like a child. Driving to work, I thought about Exene’s decline. I worried about the possibility of feeding her through a tube. Already she resi...

Three months ago, we lost our “first born cat”, Klaus, of 15 years. (Good Lord, this hasn’t been a good year for cats at our house.) Explaining his death to our very small children has not been easy, as demonstrated in the following exchanges. My husband and I have taken the straightforward, death-is-death path without referencing an afterlife. Grandma has presented the “higher” path to the girls which leads to heaven, reincarnation, and sometimes even ghosts . Who said you have to give your kids only one viewpoint? -------- Me: “Honey, Klaus has died. He’s not at the vet’s or anywhere else. He’s gone and is not coming back.” Elizabeth: “Well, can I call him on the telephone?” --------- “If I catch a mouse, I’m going to bring it to Exene or Meg... or I’ll get in my car and drive to heaven and give it to Klaus.” Ms. Elizabeth --------- “I miss Klaus. He’s my friend.” Ms. Samantha --------- Elizabeth: “Where’s Klaus?” Grandma: “He’s passed on, but he’ll always be with us. He’s probably h...