Long TIme No Post...but here to offer a freebie

I'm not sure if anyone pokes their head here now, but just in case...

Max's Wick Chronicles lives on, and the latest book is available as a FREE DOWNLOAD for the next week. 

Head to the post on The Lost Boys of EveryWhen blog to get it for your favorite e-reader (or computer...the Kindle app is available for the computer and works well.) Caveat: this is an uncorrected proof designed for beta readers, but we wanted it to be available for free prior to official publication, which isn't slated until next year.

These are still Max's books, and any future editions will also be his. There is no separating Max and Wick, despite some discussions between the editor and publisher. I don't know how many more Wick books there will be, but it's still close to my heart and they're the most fun I've had writing, so...there will be at least one more.

Max 's work now part of a Story Bundle deal

Y'all like cats, otherwise I doubt you'd be here. And I know it's been a long, hot minute since the last time I posted anything here, but I'd be dropping the furry little ball if I didn't bring this here...

This is an eclectic mix of cat wonder: cats and time travel, steampunk cats, magic and romance, and...cats! It's a pay-what-you-want offering, with $5 being the threshold for the first four books--and The Emperor of San Francisco is one of them. But spring for the whole thing, because there's some stellar writing in the exclusive stories offered in the extended bundle.

It's also a limited time kind of thing and ends in just 12 days. 

I'm pretty sure he would want me to point out that when you purchase the bundle, you also have the opportunity for people to also toss a few bucks to AbleGamers, a foundation dedicated to combating social isolation through play.

This last year...I'm sure a lot of people are feeling isolated and are turning to gaming and the like to deal with it.

Heck, I did. Not the isolation so much, but the grief. I dove into Animal Crossing, created a spiffy little island with fun neighbors, and let the distraction soothe those feelings.

I still miss this little chit more than is healthy. But...things like this, having "his" work included in something bigger, helps a lot. And there are some really cool stories in the bundle. Swearsies ;)
 

Max's first Christmas

I was digging around my files and found this, Max's first Christmas in 2001. He sat on that box as if he was sure it was his, but no matter how hard I tried, he would not look up when I tried to get pictures.

 

That avoidance would be an ongoing theme throughout his life. You want a picture of my face? NO.

 

He was only 6 months old, long and sleek, and had--not even kidding--a roughly 5 foot vertical jump. We discovered just how high he could jump on a night when the power went out and we placed lit candles on the top of the entertainment center...and =boom= there was Max, on top, wanting to explore, terrifying us because floofy kittens and fire just don't mix.

It made games with the red dot a lot of fun because running that thing up the wall resulted in some spectacular capture attempts.

 

A year later, he was kinda fat. His vertical leap was less impressive by then.

 

Thank Bast.

Adding moderation to the comments

Man, all the years this blog has been going, and Max never added me as a contributing author. How rude. But I was able to sneak myself in this morning, just to make it easier to check things from my own Blogger account.

Since I want to leave this blog up to keep the archives available, I've changed the moderation on comments from 20 days to 5 days, just to cut down on the amount of spam that might show up in them. I've already culled a ton and I know I've probably missed a lot...like who thinks it's a good idea to spam a 3 year old blog post that no one will ever check the comments on?

Max's email address will still be valid and I'll check it every now and then, but not daily. The best way to reach me via him is a message on his FB author page. It's linked to my personal page and I see when there are notifications on it.

I'll also post updates when the next Wick stories are available, and where they can be read. 

Most of the memories that bubble up in my brain--and there are a lot of them--will probably be posted to my own blog...unless people prefer I post them here. Historically, my own blog was filled with a lot of Max and Buddah, and I don't imagine that will change.

I still miss these guys like crazy. We practically have a shrine to them in the living room, between the fireplace and TV. The top picture there is one a friend had commissioned of Max, and the bottom two were painted by the amazing Karen Nichols, owner of Mousebreath Magazine, where Max had his weekly Ask Max column.

The two photos of Buddah...I ordered those late September intending them to be a Christmas gift for The Man, and they arrived two days after he died. That was both rough and perfect timing, and there was no way I could wait to give them to him

Main thing is that this blog will stay put and will not be deleted, comments will be moderated after 5 days, the archives will remain, and there will be further Wick stories.

Max is home

 He came home today, and is now resting in his TARDIS, right next to Buddah.

I miss them both so much that sometimes it's hard to swallow past the grief and I still haven't gone a day since Buddah died without crying, but I'm getting there. And when I'm there, I'll pick up where Max and I left off with Wick. We'd started the next story, and I'll see where it goes. 

Max's personality was big, and I suspect it will be my muse for many more years.

And no, there won't be any Max's blog posts from the Bridge. I won't close his blog down; I will check for new comments and leave the archives up for people to still read. It will stay right here, but...the Psychokitty Hath Spoken. I'm letting him rest, because he earned that.

From the Woman...

This is not the post I wanted to write. Ever. And it’s not the post Max deserves, nor what all of you deserve. But right now I’m shattered, and I can’t find the words that will do him justice. I’m not sure I will ever be able to.

Max had a spectacular day on Monday. He felt okay, ate well, and his Younger Human came to see him. He was given all the treats he cared to eat, and was about as happy as a cranky old man could be. Tuesday through Thursday were okay. Not fantastic, but okay. He ate, he sat in my lap (a lot) and just kind of hung out. Last night I couldn’t sleep, so at 2 am he curled up in my lap for an hour, even though I wasn’t wearing pants.

We all know how much he hates bare legs.

But this morning he was off a little bit. He didn’t want his cheese bite (with a dreaded seed inside) and wasn’t interested in food. I wasn’t worried then because sometimes it takes a while for his appetite to kick in, so I left him to nap in his room for a bit. I offered fresh food later, which he licked at, but he didn’t eat anything.

I wasn’t worried until he pooped in the bathroom and stepped in it. He didn’t fight me when I washed his feet off, and when I was done he just curled up on his favorite floor spot in his bedroom. Even then, I thought it was just a bad day.

But a little while later I found him near the litter box, he’d clearly tried to make it, but couldn’t quite stand up to do it. And when he made his way back to his room, he walked with his legs splayed, not in a straight line, and he just looked miserable. His eyes were glassy, face was pinched, and he just looked done.

Mike made the call, and we took him in at 4:30. He wanted to be held, so I wrapped my rms around and rocked him back and forth until the vet came in, and he stayed there until the end. I felt his last breath on my arm, felt him finally relax, and he left us at 4:50.

I am gutted, yet also so incredibly grateful that we had 19-1/2 years with him. He was, without exaggeration, the smartest cat I’ve ever known, and was absolutely amazing. He was spoiled beyond belief, but he deserved every bit of it, and because of him I’ve met people who have become the best friends I could hope for. What started as a whim—a blog written from his point of view—turned into something amazing, and was admittedly at the forefront of cat blogging. My only real consolation is that he’s on his way to be with Buddah, to help his little brother navigate the Bridge, and I’m sure there will be a raging Bridge-trashing party that runs all weekend.

A little truth…online Max was snarky and grouchy—and he was in real life, too—but he was also sweet and affectionate, and loved me at levels that often felt unnatural. My lap was where he wanted to be, he often wanted to shove his nose up mine, and we carried on long, drawn out conversations that I’m pretty sure I got right on my end. His intelligence often blew me away…and irritated me. We still talk about his discovery at 4 years old, when we had the dresser in the bathroom near the light switch. He figured out how to turn it off and on, and did so with glee…at 3 in the morning.

The light—and he knew it—streamed right to the head of the bed, in my face.

Max was the cat who could sit on the bathroom vanity and look in the mirror, understanding that the cat he saw was him. If he’d had something on his face, seeing it in his reflection would have prompted him to swipe a paw across his face to get it off (conversely, Buddah was positive the cat in the mirror was an intruder, though he did finally stop hissing at it. Gawd, I miss that goofball.) He could puzzle things out, and the only thing that saved us from an obnoxiously high gas bill was because he wasn’t strong enough to flip the switch on the fireplace.

He knew how, he just couldn’t get leverage.

Our world got quite a bit quieter tonight. He was a small cat in the end, having gone from nearly 19 pounds to 9, but he filled all the quiet spaces with his personality. I often joked that I’d stolen him from his Younger Human—when he brought Max home it was with the caveat that when he moved, so did the cat—but Max made it clear who his chosen person was, and I will be forever honored.

On Monday, I told the Boy that I wasn’t sorry anymore that I’d stolen his cat. Tonight I thanked him for it.

I will miss that furball forever, but doods, having him…it was glorious.

I have the power...

See me there by the window on my new perch? It's become my favorite place. The red thing in front of it is a footstool and just in front of that (hard to see) is a brown thingy. They're there for me to use as steps so I won't try to jump that high.

What you can't see is there are a couple plates of food on the floor by the dammit machine. I get food there, and food in my bedroom--I hardly ever eat in the kitchen anymore because why would I? They put a piece of carpet down in the kitchen so I can ear without slipping, but I just like eating other places more not, and they're okay with it.

But doods...I discovered a great power yesterday. If the People are concerned because they haven't seen me eating in a while, they will sit on that little red footstool and HOLD MY PLATE WHILE I EAT LOUNGING ON THE NEW PERCH!!! They'll even turn it so I don't have to stretch too far.

Just a little while ago, the Man sat down and held a plate for me. He didn't realize I had just been in my room nomming the food in there (the Woman did but she didn't tell him because why would she?) 

Yesterday and the day before were not a super great days for me, but the Woman was not surprised and had even surmised on Tuesday night that I probably wouldn't feel good, at least on Wednesday. Tuesday had been a really good day and I was all over the place, going up and down the stairs to my perch and on and off her lap...but one time getting down from the perch I slipped and that's when she said I'd probably have a bad day on Wednesday.

It's like a roller coaster. If I have a super good day, I pay for it the next. If I have a moderately good day, I'll probably be fine the next day. The problem with my bad days is that I don't want to eat. Anything. Wednesday was a not great day and I nibbled, just enough to keep her happy. Yesterday sucked, so I didn't really eat anything except a few bites of steak.

I'm eating today, which makes them both happy...and spurs them into sitting there, holding the plate, trying to get me to suck down a little bit more.

Blog Blast For Peace 2020

 

Wow...Seventeen

Seventeen years ago, around 3:30 in the afternoon, I started this blog. I had no clue, really, what I would do with it other than make fun of my people. The Woman had notions that I would share my world views, but really, what's funnier than people and the stupid things they do?

I think it was after we hit "publish" on the first post that we began searching for other cat blogs. I mean, if I had one, there must be others, right? We spent hours looking and found lots of blogs about cats, but none written by a cat. It felt like I'd stumbled on a private island, which is cool and all, but private gets boring after a while. I wanted more.

The very first post...typo included

Visitors trickled in at first. Friends of the Woman poked in to see what was going on, and some of them shared the blog link. But it didn't take long before the spread of it was more organic and people to whom we had no personal connection began visiting. Some got in the spirit and commented as their cats. Some got the joke and started blogs for their own cats. It became a thing unto its own self: there were suddenly tons of cat blogs as others followed, and before I knew it there were cat blogs started by cats who had never even heard of mine.

There was a real Cat Blogosphere, and I made friends.

More importantly, I think, the Woman made friends. Friends that have turned into genuine, in-real-life friends, some of the best friends she could ever hope to have.

I wish the commenting system I used in the beginning was still there--Blogger originally didn't have their own and we had to use third party commenting--because there were some great conversations that happened in the comments. 

As the Cat Blogosphere exploded in size, it turned into Way Too Much Fun. There were house trashing parties--of course we teleported to each others' homes where we enjoyed niptinis and mountains of food--and we even had the Cat Olympics. We opened chat rooms so that we could talk to each other in real time. We celebrated together, not just holidays but the birth of sticky people, new furry household additions, marriages, and milestones. And we mourned together as the friends we grew to love left us early to run off to the Bridge, as our People lost treasured family, and we cried together.

Some of you guys have been here from the beginning, from the time after I lost Hank the Dog (which happened a few months before the blog began) and were here when Buddah came to live with us and damned near killed me with his cooties. You saw him grow from Buddah Butt to Buddah Pest, and listened to all my complaints about him.

I miss him, doods. I never thought I would, mostly because I never thought he would go first, but here we are.

You suffered through all the M-words with me. And there were a lot.

I gotta admit, the idea that I would still have this blog even five years from the day it began, never occurred to me in the beginning. I especially never would have thought it would launch a career for me, even if I did piggyback off the Woman's. 

I never could have conceived of all the friendships that would come from it, not for me and not for the Woman. She loves her friends. Not just, like, the way people love Cheetos or new shoes; she loves them.

Doods...I am so grateful.

For every one of you who found me so early on, who have stuck with me, who stumbled in along the way and who played along, got the joke, for whom this all became real, who helped their own kitties begin their own blogs...I am grateful.

Thank you for 17 awesome and amazing years.

Now let's squeeze out a bit more...

Today...is good

The Woman thought today was going to be a bad day for me because of all the poking and prodding of yesterday, along with it being the last day before I get my appetite medication again. But so far it's been good. I've eaten pretty well--it's not even 3 pm here and I've probably had 6 or 7 ounces of wet food--and I'm moving around.

The little cat thingy (see yesterday, bottom of post) is my new favorite spot, and I've been napping on it, getting down to eat and drink, getting back up, and I even got to say hello to the pest control dood through the window (things like that don't bother me anymore. The Woman says I have, like, zero farks to give now.) She bought this for me because she felt bad about taking the cat trees away, but doods, this is awesome. The cup is bigger so I'm more comfortable when I curl up, and I can still see out the window thanks to the box the Man made, that it's sitting on top of.

Since I get my meds tomorrow, she expects it will be a big food day, like a can an hour after it starts working, and I'll get something right up until she goes to bed...she'll leave two plates full for me so I have food overnight. Well, she does that anyway, because what if I get hungry? The rule now is Don't Let The Cat Be Hungry. I might even gain some weight.

Remember when I started this blog? In three days it will be 17 years. Back then, I was "14 pounds of sleek black and white glory" but I managed to push that up to nearly 19 pounds. At the stabby place I weighed in at 8.5 pounds and was probably down to 8 at one point. I'm allowed to get as fat as I want now...I have a super high metabolism these days because of my thyroid, but the doc said this mass is probably contributing to it, so yeah, eat whatever I want, when I want, as long as the People can figure out what that is. 

Yesterday the Woman opened THREE cans trying to figure out what I wanted. One got tossed out because of the way I ran from it, but the other two got left on my bedroom floor, and I grazed on them both (even the one I hadn't wanted) until bedtime when I got two new cans.

So, paws crossed that tomorrow is as good as today. 

Oh, and I did pee outside the box a couple times, but once was in the middle of the night and I just didn't feel like walking all the way down the hall, and the bathroom is right next to my bedroom and there are puppy pads on the floor just for that. Luckily, no one gets upset by it. The Woman has said "please don't" a couple times when she thought I was going to pee in the living room, but when I did she just shrugged and said she owns stuff to clean it up and I'm not hurting anything.

We'll see what she says if I ever pee on her bed...

Dang, they really did shove a needle in me

Do I look annoyed? I was annoyed. This was taken this morning, when someone should have been feeding me, but after a night of NO FOOD WHERE I COULD GET TO IT, they did not. And then they compounded it by shoving me into the PTU, then to the car, and I wound up at the stabby place.

Apparently this time no one cared if I peed all over everything. But right off the bat I was manhandled and STABBED, then left alone for a little bit while I began to feel sleepy and saw the sound of colors. For reals, doods. All the pretty colors.

I wasn't, like, under major anesthesia, just kinda nicely floating while the vet flopped me onto a table whereupon he took a picture of my insides. Worth noting: everything is where it belongs. But he didn't note a break, and he did see a mass, which meant I was getting stabbed again with a longer, more intrusive needle.

I was too loopy to really give a damn, and after he was done I took a nice long nap in my carrier, which was placed inside a cage to protect me from all the other animals. I suppose they could have just put me in the cage, but my PTU is nice and comfy and they know that given a choice, that's where I want to be.

Long story short...the mass is a soft tissue sarcoma. Stabby dood says it's typically a slow growing one and also doesn't tend to metastasize, so there's not a lot of worry that I'll wind up with is spread throughout my body (it's possible, just not likely.) But it will grow. And because of that, the People will count my good days and my bad days, and decide what I need most based on that.

For now, I'll get an appetite stimulant and nausea meds (one that has a bit of an analgesic effect) and if the pain seems to be getting to me before I stop eating, he might put me on Gabapentin. Right now I have more good days than bad, but I gotta be honest guys, the bad days are pretty bad. I don't want to eat and I pee all over the house. But the good days I eat and I use the litter box, and I seek out the Woman's lap and she says I'm almost my old self.

I'll probably spend a lot of my time here. They took the cat trees away because they were afraid I would hurt myself trying to get up high enough to see out the window, but they replaced it with this.

I can see out the window if I want, and it's easy enough for e to get onto. If the foot stool starts to look too tall, the Man will build another box for me to use as an additional step. I really dig this...the little cup is bigger than the one that was on the cat tree, and I can snuggle in and sleep really well.

So.

It's not great news, but it's not the worst news, either. I still have some time, whether it's weeks or months, and I know the People were scared they would have to say goodbye to me really soon. Or even today. 

They promised they're going to spoil me as much as they can, so I'm looking forward to that. I get to eat whatever I want, when I want, as long as they can figure out just what it is I want. If I want a lap, I get a lap, no matter what they're doing. And if I ask for the fireplace, even if it's warm, I get it.

Pretty spiffy way to live, I think.

In Honor of the Pest

I've been thinking a lot about what I could do in honor of Buddah, something tangible that could make a difference. I could write about him until everyone started yelling at me, but I'm pretty sure that's not the difference he would want me to affect.

But then I thought about our book, Interview With a Pest, and how Buddah came to live with us. And I knew.

All of the royalties from the sale of that book from the date it came out to the end of November will be donated to the SPCA we adopted him from.

I know a lot of y'all have already bought it, so I won't spend that money when I get it, so if you could pass the word along, I would appreciate it. This particular SPCA has done a lot of good for the community. Not just adopting out cats and dogs, but when they have space the rescue animals from kill shelters, and when Northern CA was hit with fires all around, they really sprung into action to help, all while evacuating the shelter because of fire encroaching them.

Buddah was one that they rescued from a kill shelter. We never would have known he existed otherwise.

I would really like to cut them a huge check in December. So please share this. It doesn't matter what platform you get it on--print, Kindle, Nook, Apple Books, Kobo--I will donate everything we earn from it.

We are adjusting...

No one likes the new norm, but we're slowly adjusting. Buddah's ashes came home yesterday, and the People bought a very nice urn for him. It's a black kitty sleeping in a basket...once they have it set up, I'll show you. 

But.

THEY TOOK ME TO THE STABBY PLACE WHEN THEY WENT TO PICK HIM UP!

All I did was pee on the bathroom floor...and then in the living room...and all the sudden it's OMG TAKE HIM TO GET STABBED! And doods, I totally got stabbed. The stabby guy stole a bunch of blood and sighed super hard when I peed all over everything because he wanted it for himself, and all for what? I've peed on things before and no one got excited. Sheesh.

But...I heard the People talking today and apparently my blood looks fine for an old man with thyroid and kidney disease, and there was no sign of an infection. So now the stabby guy wants to get an x-ray of my rear left left because I may or may not have broken it back in July, which could be why I occasionally pee outside the box. He felt a mass back there but it could be anything...a knot from a break, or even something else. If the x-ray doesn't show a break, he'll do a needle biopsy.

The Woman is not concerned that it might be something else, because of the timeline. In July, I tried to jump onto the footrest of her recliner and didn't quite make it, landing pretty hard. I got up and walked away, but it was a couple days later that I went through all the OMG HE'S GOING TO DIE stuff, when she found me in the closet passed out with my face in my food dish. 

She thought then that I was having some pain, but let's just say I was a bit less than cooperative at the stabby place, so there was no blood work, no x-rays taken. She watched me closely, and noted improvement, slowly, until I hit a point where it wasn't bad at all...right at the same point she always felt better after she broke something.

So I have days when I don't eat a lot because I kinda hurt, and she thinks that's what the next exam will show. I probably did break that leg. And since it bothers me sometimes, those are the days I pee outside the box. She says that's perfectly okay because she owns a bunch of Kids N Pets to take the smell away, but she kinda hopes I stick to the puppy pads that are now covering the bathroom floor.

I am also getting something that will hopefully make me hungrier, because my weight is way down, and they want me to gain some back.

I ate well today, though. I had 6 ounces overnight (she's leaving me 2 full cans in my room every night now) and I've probably eaten 4 since 8am and it's only 5:20pm and I'll get offered at least 6 more ounces before bed time. I think they want me to eat a lot more than that, though.

In any case, we're doing okay here. Everyone misses Buddah a lot, but we're okay.

Today is a better day

 

After yesterday and feeling like total krap because of those two absolute jerkwad units, we feel better. We're still not happy but we felt every bit of Mojo y'all wished and it helped a lot.

I think what helped the Woman the most was typing out the things we both needed to say. She's had an undercurrent of guilt, peppered with some doubt. Like, what if? What if the decision was made too soon? Why did it have to be that day? Why not one more?

The people had been saying out loud, "he's just not eating" but as we sat here and wrote, the truth bubbled up. It's not just that he wasn't eating. He was starving. And to let that go on would have been cruel.

If the meds he was on were going to work, they would have by then.

Everything settled with her after that. The doubt slipped away. So she thinks that while it hurt, the accusation was actually a blessing. It made her face things, and accept things, and while she's still sad, she's okay.

I think I'm okay, too. I keep looking for him, even though I know he's not here. I peed on the blanket he'd been on just before he left. And now I'm sleeping on his favorite cat tree, though not in his favorite spot. I probably would, but he liked the top level and it's just not safe for me to make that leap, and I know it.

For some reason it made the Woman happy to see me there. She and the Man almost took both cat trees out of the house on Thursday but just weren't ready, so now she's doubly glad they waited. I haven't used the other one yet, but they're leaving it in place to give me a chance to use it, too.

I'm making an effort to be not so grumpy because they really don't need that right now. I even got the Woman to laugh at 3 o'clock this morning. She woke up and got out of bed when she heard food calling to her, specifically cinnamon toast, and I jumped onto her lap and started eating it from the other side she was biting into.

The big surprise was that she didn't stop me.

BTW, cinnamon toast is awesome and if you haven't had any, get some. I have high hopes for a few more bites tonight.  

I'm a couple kinds of mad right now, guys

Like, the kind of mad where it would be easy to blow up at someone and start this nasty grudge thing, slinging litter box contents at each other online, where other people get in the crosshairs. But I'm going to do the petty thing instead, and blog about it, where the instigator has no real recourse because I've already blocked them on Facebook and will delete any comment they make here. Because I'm mature like that.

I'm probably going to use things off the Bad Word List. Fair warning.

To paraphrase... "You knew Buddah was sick and that's why you released Interview With a Pest when you did. That's unfair. Because if you didn't know he was sick then you didn't give him enough time before you had him put down, and either way, that makes you awful."

No, we did not know Buddah was sick when the decision was made to release IWAP ahead of schedule. The biggest reason for that push was because everyone feared *I* was going to die soon; we had no idea about Buddah. We were all counting on him being here for years after me. What would have been unfair, I think, was publishing it when planned, in December, had I died before then. That seems like rubbing salt in a whole bunch of wounds.

We had fewer than ten days with Buddah from the day we learned how ill he was until the day we let him go. We had less than two weeks from the day he started throwing up and when he stopped eating. At the beginning of 2020, he weighed 16 pounds. In August, he weighed 13. The day he was diagnosed, he weighed 12. The day he died, he weighed under 10.

Could we have given him a few more days? Maybe. But at what cost to him? He couldn't make himself eat, even on an appetite stimulant, and even though he clearly wanted to. 

Buddah was starving to death. How much more time should we have let that go on? Days? Weeks? 

He was stumbling. He fell from the back of the recliner and was lucky he didn't break his neck. He sat on the floor and we could see his entire upper body pulse with each heart beat.

Did he deserve to go through more days of starving and feeling horrible, just so we could keep him?

We wanted him to live, but the awful reality is that he was never going to get better, and he was starving. The past few days I've been wandering around the house, looking for him, smelling him, peeing all over everything because I cannot find what I'm looking for. I'm super old, too, so half the time I'm not even sure what it is I'm looking for, just that it should be there and it's not.

My people are broken, so how fucking DARE you suggest they let him go too soon. 

And to the twatwaffle who suggested to the Woman that she wanted me to die instead of him...go crawl up inside your own ass.

She didn't want either of us to die. The reality is that I probably will soon and she hasn't even come to terms with that, so your suggestion was about as hurtful as it gets, and I am having a very hard time not wishing horrible things happen to you.

I accept that those kind of thoughts sip through brains--did they do enough, could they have done more--but holy pope on a pogo stick, those are the thoughts you don't say out loud to the ones who are hurting. Keep that shit to yourself, and let us grieve.

Doods...damn

 

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. I was supposed to go first, to wait at the Bridge for him. I practically promised him, and even though we talked about the possibility he would go first, no one believed it.

Buddah was the mischievous little boy, always the baby cat no matter how old he was. Even a couple weeks ago he played THoE by himself, racing down the hall into the office and up the bookcases to the top of the TARDIS. His downturn was so sudden, so unexpected, that it feels wrong and unfair. But he tried hard; he took the medications even though they tasted bad and he only bit the Man once. He tried to nibble the food they set down for him, despite feeling nauseated. And last night and today he snuggled with the People, going back and forth between their laps.

I stayed out of the way, because this was not my time to interfere.

Earlier today he fell off the back of the recliner, and since he’s been unsteady on his own feet—the Woman took UP away from him last week because it was no longer safe—and when she heard herself tell the Man that they needed to take the cat trees away so that he wouldn’t climb them, she knew.

It took a few hours for it to really sink in, though. He spent the afternoon under a bed and turned his nose up at snack, which meant he’d had maybe half an ounce all day, and he didn’t eat much more than that yesterday. He’s been on an appetite stimulant and nausea medication, but it wasn’t enough to beat down the pain in his belly. But the way he sniffed at it and then turned away made the Woman say the words out loud. We have to let him go.

They understood that we’d reached the point where doing anything more was for us and not him. So the decision was made to let him begin his journey to the Bridge, and the stabby guy did not want to make him wait any longer, either. So this evening at about 5:40, Buddah exhaled one last time and headed off to meet Hank and Dusty, and to see all out friends who have gone before us.

Doods…if you read our last book, you probably got the sense that he and I had finally made our peace. And we had. He stopped picking on me and I stopped running away from him. Last night, we drank from the fountain at the same time.

I complained about him all the time, because he was a furry pain in my asterisk, but doods…he was glorious.

And dignified...

Buddah Needs Mojo

If you follow my author page on Facebook, or the Woman's personal feed, you already know why Buddah needs mojo. So I'll copy her post here, so you know what's going on with him.

He has a shaved tummy and is still loopy from the sedation he got today, but he ate a lot a little while ago--stabby dood gave him an appetite stimulant--so right now we're just hoping he keeps it down. Tomorrow the people can pick up the steroids that we hope will reduce the obstruction so he feels better, and then they just have to keep an eye on him.

We just didn't want anyone to be blindsided if he gets really sick, and he could use the Mojo.

He's been pretty good to me lately, not bugging me, and he stays out of my room so that I can rest and eat without worrying what he might do. I'm gonna stay out of his way, too, but I'm not going to complain when he poops on the floor right in front of the litter box anymore. We kinda need to see it, so I'll shut up about that.

Just...think good thoughts for him. He's a pain, but he's our pain and we want him to be comfortable.

Today is a quiet day...

Oh, and I got a new nip banana!

I've spent most of today either in my room or in the closet, and a bit of it tucked into a space near the Man's computer chair. I wandered out for food and water earlier in the day, but by morning snack I wasn't feeling like it, so the Woman has been bringing food to me. I'm eating, so she's not worried; it's just one of those days.

She says she was pretty sure that I'd be kind of quiet today. I spent a lot of time in the living room yesterday, and I lounged on her lap for a while. I would have spent more time there watching Enterprise with her, but I got something in my eye and was rubbing my face, which prompted her to try to wash eye boogers off the side of my nose, and, well, I wasn't having any of that.

If she'd left it alone for five minutes, I would have gotten it myself.

There's a lot of smoke and ash in the air here. The fires (and there are a lot of them) are far enough away that we're not in danger from them, but the People have to keep the windows closed and the a/c on, but every time they have to go out, something gets in, so it's no surprise to get a fleck of something stuck where I don't want it to be. It could be worse...some of the Woman's friends have dogs who have to go outside, and they're having issues with coughing and irritation, and there's no real way to avoid it.

Then again, they don't have to deal with the Woman's whining about not being able to play outside. She's halfway through a charity bicycle thingy, and because of the smoke she's had to do a lot of it inside on her bike that goes nowhere, and she's starting to hate it. Well, lady, so am I, because that bike is loud and you're no fun when you're on it.

On the plus side, she raised over $2600 for childhood cancer research and treatment. But that also makes her more determined to get the miles in, and she said she'd do 300. Outside it would be a bit of a stretch as it is; inside, she says it feels like torture.

Suck it up, sunshine. It's just pedaling.

Oh, and those of you waiting for a print copy of Interview With A Pest...Amazon has it, which means other stores will soon. It's even got its first review on Amazon, and it's 5 star! Oh yeah, reviewer, you know who you are. Thank you. I got warm fuzzies from it.

Look! The Book Y'all Helped Write With All Your Questions

 

Last year, Buddah and I sat down and had a nice talk. It started as an interview--with most of the questions supplied by y'all--but after a while it turned into a conversation, and we just...talked.

This is it, the book where Buddah gets a say, and where the King of the Run-On Sentence maybe, just maybe, starts to listen.

Oh, and he wrote the afterword.

Like, he wrote it yesterday, the Woman jetted it off to the editor, and it made it into the book before it was took late.

The digital version is available now on Amazon for the Kindle and Kindle apps, and will start to propagate to other digital retailers soon. The print version might start showing up this weekend, but sometimes it's slower to work its way through the distribution system.

This is a little more than a conversation. There's also some writing advice for Buddah that extends to anyone who needs it, but most of all, some peace for us both.

The Woman Just Posted This on Facebook:

"The State of Max: All this week, he's eaten reasonably well. There were a few days when he didn't want to come out of the closet or his bedroom, but food was welcomed and he seemed pleased to see me bring it...though I was not allowed to remain while he ate. That's fine. I think he feels safest eating in the closet because he can take his time and Buddah doesn't bother him.

Yesterday and today he's been wandering out to the kitchen and the living room, and has been taking his meals in the kitchen. He's napped in the living room, yelled at the window by the front door, and forced me to put down my computer for lap time. Definitely a couple of good days in a row.

Switching his meds from oral to the ear gel has been a major factor, I think. Lowering the dose was huge. Right now, he's just acting like a very old man, and I don't have that feeling of impending doom. Really, the only worry in the last few days has been a what-if worry if we needed to take him out of the house for any reason, because of the smoke from all the fires nearby.

As long as he eats--even if he wants to hide in the closet--and seems happy to see someone bring food to him, I'm calling it a win. And I'm not overly optimistic, BUT...he's having some good days and the days that aren't good aren't horrible. So. Just an old, old man right now. And that's amazing."

Yep, I'm definitely having some good days, and today I even graced her with my patented GLARE because she interrupted a nap by announcing she was going to the store to buy more cat food. Now, I didn't need the announcement because I had ordered her to do just that half an hour earlier, so I would have known where she was if I'd woken up and she was gone. I mean...really.

Oh, and apropos to nothing... Buddah barfed on the top of every single one of those bookcases the other day. It was AWESOME.