7 October 2020

I don’t think I could have picked Buddah’s voice out of an audio lineup the first few years of his life. Eerily quiet, he didn’t say anything unless he felt some sort of annoyance or indignity, which was a bit of a relief given how vocal Max has always been. In the last few years, though, he began speaking more—complaining usually—and I settled in with the idea that I could tell which cat was bitching from across the house, and react accordingly, to whatever degree of distress it seemed they were feeling.

The two cats just didn’t get along. I honestly think that if Max had not gotten so sick when we brought Buddah home that it would have been different, but those were the cards we were dealt. Max was constantly annoyed, and Buddah was forever the mischievous little boy, looking to make trouble when he could. I thought it would never end, Buddah always picking on Max, who was basically defenseless as he got older, and we began relying on Feliway diffusers to curb the worst of it.

But somewhere along the way in the last year, they seemed to make their peace with each other. Buddah still picked on Max, but not nearly to the degree he did. Max stopped running at the sight of Buddah. He was careful, always, but not scared.

On September 24^th, Buddah began vomiting. He’s always had a touchy tummy so I didn’t think anything of it, but it continued through that weekend, along with the realization that he hadn’t pooped. That was notable, given that for the last couple of years he’s used a puppy pad near the litter box, but not the litter box itself. That habit made it easy to see who was doing what, so once we got over the irritation, we relied on it. But still…he was throwing up—by Saturday it was just yellowish foam—and he wasn’t eating, and wasn’t pooping.

That Monday the vet was called and despite not having open appointments for a couple weeks out, they got Buddah in. Based on the symptoms, they did x-rays and an abdominal ultrasound, which showed a thickening in his small bowel, causing a partial obstruction. The next step was an ultrasound-guided needle biopsy, but after three tries the doc couldn’t get a good enough sample, and he wasn’t putting Buddah through a 4^th attempt.

It was pretty clear that he had more going on than his small bowel being thick; I knew going in he had symptoms of lymphoma, and the vet agreed. It was likely that or a tumor, and we were not keen on putting a 15 year old cat through invasive exploratory surgery when the end result would be the same. We opted to treat him for lymphoma since that was the most likely culprit, and brought him home.

We had high hopes of getting a few comfortable weeks for him. But he just couldn’t bounce back. He had zero appetite, though some nausea meds helped, as did an appetite stimulant. Still, the best he could do was nibble, and his best day I think he took in 2 ounces of food in a 24 hour period. He began stumbling a bit, and I could see his entire upper body pulse with each heartbeat…and then he began nibbling a bit more which abated those symptoms, and my hopes went high.

It was a roller coaster of “yay, he’s eating” and “he pooped!” with “he stopped eating” and “he hasn’t pooped again.” Two days ago he ate about an ounce and a half, and then just stopped doing more than nibbling.

Last week I felt bad when I had to take UP away from him; his favorite place in the house was on top of the TARDIS, accessed by 8 foot tall bookcases. I felt guilty as hell about it, but he’d gotten up there and realized he was too weak to get back down, so stood at the top crying for help, and I didn’t see any other choice, not until he was better.

The guilt was compounded by the thought that Max’s interview with Buddah had just been released, and in it Max promised we would always keep UP for him because he needed it so badly. But…it was no longer safe. He needed UP like breath, but all I could see was him falling 8 feet to the floor.

Today he lounged on top of a recliner, struggling to get comfortable. And then suddenly, he was on the floor, a little stunned. We were terrified, but after a moment he got up and wandered away, dignity intact. But I told the Spouse Thingy then, it was time to take the cat trees away. If he got to the top of one of those and fell…?

I knew then what was going to happen, but it took me a few hours and an agonizing trip to Costco to refill his medications before I could say the words. He’d hidden under the bed while we were gone, and when we got home we tried to tempt him with food he really likes; he sniffed it like he really wanted it but couldn’t make himself take a bite, and then went into the living room to sit on the Spouse Thingy’s lap.

It was 4:30 by then, but through some tears I managed to say what we were both avoiding. We have to let him go.

I knew there was a line that I'd been looking for, one that divided what was good for him and what was good for us, and we were pressing up against what was good for us. Could we have gotten a little closer? Maybe. But it risked him being more than uncomfortable and unsteady; it risked deep pain.

I firmly believe in Better a week too soon than a day too late, but I think we made the decision at the right time, and at roughly 5:40 today, Buddah exhaled his last breath and headed for the Bridge.

I keep thinking that this was never supposed to happen, that Buddah was the baby and was supposed to be here long after Max. It happened so fast, so unexpectedly, and feels more than unfair. I feel like he was owed more years than he got, even though he made it to 15. But he had a great life, I know he did.

We spoil our pets, there’s no question.

But I feel like he was owed more.

Max is in the front room, in my line of sight, curled up by the front door on his special perch, one Buddah left alone. I don’t know if or when he’ll notice that Buddah isn’t here, and if he does I don’t know how it will affect him. He has his own issues that have consumed our lives since July…and that might be why I feel Buddah was owed more. He didn’t lack for time and attention or affection, but we have been distracted and catering to Max.

And there’s the sad reality; Max is 19 and very frail. Today is not one of his good days, though yesterday was decent. Tomorrow might be all right. We just never know.

This year just blows.

And I already miss that furry little pest.

26 September 2020

300 miles done.

$2800 raised.

Major, major thanks to y'all for your support.

 

I did 30 miles yesterday; 25 in the morning (5 miles, stop, 5 miles stop, 5 miles...I stopped 5 miles to early LOL) and yesterday afternoon picked up this pretty little bike, and did the last 5 on it.

It's a single speed with a flip flop hub, so I can give riding a fixed gear bike a try later. Now, I didn't get the itch for something new again (well, I always have that itch) but I'm about to put a few hundred miles on it in order to review it. Hence, the brand name is obscured, and if you can figure it out, please don't comment on it.

Heading out for the last 5 miles...

 Those 5 miles were fun. This is the first time riding a single speed since I was 12 or so, and the first time I've ridden with bullhorn bars. I think I'm going to really like both. Well, until I encounter a hill, whereupon I might be walking that sucker up since I don't really have the legs to climb.

Next up...150 miles to benefit the American Cancer Society in their Breaking Away for Breast Cancer ride. 

After doing 300 in September, I am far less concerned with getting these miles in, so I might do them on the new single speed for a bit more of a challenge. 

At some point I'll get back to work...but after getting Max's last 2 books out, I kinda want a break. And I might as well take that break on a bike.

The only downer right now is that the smoke has returned and I can't ride outside today. And tomorrow is supposed to be stupid hot. So, hopefully, Monday.

24 September 2020

Oddz n Endz #8,109,268^62 x 99.410^3 + 42

As of right now, I’ve ridden 270 of the 300 miles I set as a goal for the Great Cycle Challenge. With nearly a week to go, I’ll probably hit 330 or more, but I gotta tell you…I am not going to make a habit of this, at least not the way I’ve done it. In the last week I’ve chewed up a bunch of miles by doing 25 mile rides, and while I enjoy the actual riding, I’m not enjoying how much time it takes.

I’m on the slow side and I have to stop more often than most (I presume)—and I’m generally fine with that—just to make sure I’m as all right as I think I am. Am I overheating? Do I feel like my blood sugar is about to tank? A I hydrating enough? And mostly…holy fork, my asterisk is on fire. I still have not found the holy grail of bike seats, and I accept that because of my delicate self, I may never. That’s okay.

But yeah, I stop a lot. Passing out on a bike will instill that fear in you. It's not a thing I wish to repeat.

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

Max is doing well. Well enough, in any case. He eats, he drinks, he uses the litterbox, he sleeps. What he’s not doing is spending much time outside of his bedroom, which is fine. If we go in there he’s happy to see us (especially if we have food) and he accepts being petted, but he’s not getting into my lap the way he used to. It’s fine. He’s fragile and has little muscle mass on his back end so I imagine it’s not terribly comfortable for him.

Main thing…he’s happy. Buddah leaves him alone for the most part now, respecting the territory of Max’s room, and Max does move around in the room and can still get to the back of the sofa, his favorite place to lounge. He also wanders out a few times a day to glare at me, and he still sings at night after dinner.

A month ago if you’d asked me, I wouldn’t have thought he’d be here toward the end of this month. Now…who knows. As long as he doesn’t lose any more weight, he could be here a while.

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

A while back I tossed my name into consideration to do an article on a specific line of bikes, mostly because the gig came with a free bike. They were looking for 10-12 writers with some riding experience but not hard-core roadies, and a friend who’s friends with the guy looking for writing riders gave him my contact info, along with a few others we mutually know.

Most of us got the gig. And the bike.

The bike arrived in a box, needing assembly, which takes all of half an hour. BUT…since we get to keep these bikes, we were warned that if we wanted the warranty on it, we had to take it to a bike shop and have it professionally assembled, and then submit proof.

This is where I got a bit annoyed. I’m no bike mechanic but I could do this easily. Local bike guy quoted $80-120 to do it, depending on the bike. Nope. Bike shop I usually go to quote $60. I still wanted to nope out of it, but…basically for $60 I’m getting a brand new bike with a warranty. So fine. I wanted the warranty.

But now I have to wait for it, because there’s a line of people ahead of me.

Deep down I am 8 years old, and I want to play with that bike.

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

Max’s newest book, Interview With a Pest, came out a couple of weeks ago, and I finally got to see a print copy. This might be my favorite cover of all the books we’ve done, especially in print.

You know how sometimes you pick up a book and it just feels good in your hands? This is one of those. It’s got a matte cover instead of glossy, the size is right for its length, and it just has that awesome-book feel.

One thing…if you have the digital version, somehow an extra blank page was inserted at the end of the interview, which makes it look like it’s over. There’s an afterword by Buddah, written the night before the book went to print. It puts a nice ribbon around their relationship; if you missed it, go back and read it.

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

I have been asked multiple times if Max will have another book. The answer…we hope so. Another volume of poetry has been in the works for a while, but the material so far is a bit, well, deep, and what we wanted was something lighter and funnier. He’s done deep, it’s time for light and fluffy and happy. Maybe for once…not making people cry. That would be a first.

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

Typical conversational topic these days: So, how ya doing with the whole quarantine, stay at home thing?

You know, if you’d asked me that a week or two ago, I think I would have said it hasn’t been an issue. And it hasn’t felt like one. Our lives have not been overwhelmingly impacted, because we’re introverts who don’t really socialize. Other than not seeing the kids--and right now my biggest wish is for normalcy to return so we can see them, have dinner out or something--it doesn’t feel all that different. We both miss going places just to go, dinner with a drink or two would be nice, and I don’t like taking the cats to the vet and having to wait in the parking lot, but for the most part, life has seemed normal.

But.

Looking around the house, the state of it says something different. I’ve never been a great housekeeper because cleaning is my least favorite thing to do, but now it’s slid past the point of lazy housekeeping to what the fuck is wrong with you? It’s like I didn’t even see all this stuff building up around me. You show up at my house now, I’m not even opening the door, even if your plan was to stand on the porch.

Nope, you show up, you better stay on the driveway and text me.

So, that’s my weekend. Make a list, and take it room by room.

At least, that’s the plan. I’m pretty good at screwing up plans. Like, really good. Maybe I’ll write a book instead.

3 September 2020

 My life today...

Max: I'm hungry. Feed me.

Me: I fed you an hour ago.

Max: Feed me.

Me: There's still food on your plate. Go eat that.

Max: It's empty. Feed me.

Me: Half was left when I was in the kitchen. Eat that.

Max: Get off your asterisk and feed me.

Me, checks his plate, it is indeed licked clean. Feeds him.

Lather, rinse, repeat... Today is a Very Hungry Day, which makes me happy even if it does kinda tie me to the house. He's also not hiding in the closet (so far...I imagine naps will occur there) and he's demanded lap time.

He's only had one not-so-hot day in the last 8-10 days, but even then, he ate well enough. Not great, but well enough. Before all of this started, I wouldn't have blinked twice at a day like that. He's just acting like a normal old man, looks a bit raggedy, but we're no longer half holding our breath.

We kept as close an eye on him as possible over the last, what, 6-7 weeks, and have paid attention to as many of the little details as we could. I think we were spot on with medication issues making him nauseated, but as time has grown, we're also pretty sure his main problem was an injury.

I thought at the time he was in pain; just a day and a half before the worst day he's ever had, he tried to jump onto the footrest of my chair, missed, and landed hard. At the time, he walked it off, but by the next day he favored his back left leg and could barely walk in a straight line. By the time we got him to the vet--3 days after finding him passed out with his face in his food dish--he was improved enough that it was just another symptom in a line of symptoms, but he still had trouble walking straight and continued to favor that leg.

Because of some head tremors, the vet thought he might have had a series of small strokes, which certainly would have explained it. And with her, he was a royal pain in the asterisk, which is Perfectly Normal Max. And because he was "feisty" as she put it, getting labs and images would have required sedating him...something neither of us wanted to do to him because of the risks. And nothing would have changed regardless of what those images and labs could have shown. He's reached the point where less stress is the best course of action, and she recognized that putting him through anything might have broken him. Because of his kidneys, there wasn't really anything to give him for pain. And I know how that goes...I miss being able to take Ibuprofen and the like for the same reason. They clear through the kidneys...he's at stage 2 kidney disease, I'm at stage 3. I empathize. If it hurts, we kinda have to just suck it up.

We did get her to change from an oral med to topical, and we lowered his dose. That did wonders for his appetite and nausea, but something was still off. He was hiding, grumpy, only moving when necessary. And then the light bulb went off...yes, I'd suspected an injury but not an INJURY. I started thinking he'd possibly broken that leg when he fell.

I've broken enough bones to know how it can feel. Hurts when you do it, but the pain doesn't really come roaring at you for a day or so. And then you settle with it, but it's exhausting and hurts more when you move, so you move as little as possible. You don't want to be bothered; you just want to stay still, snooze, and if you're lucky, someone brings food to you.

And right at the 4 week mark, when a bone would have healed well enough, he began moving a lot more. He gets onto the sofas in his bedroom more and doesn't just sleep on the floor. He doesn't wait for food to be brought to him, but comes out and asks for it. He's not lying exclusively on his right side, but curling up. He's grooming again.

I may be way off the mark. But I don't think so.

He's still an old man with kidney and thyroid disease. He's going to have off days for the rest of his life. But I think we can ease up on OMG MAX because he's all right. I will still stand in the doorway and watch for the gentle rise and fall that tells me he's breathing, and the Spouse Thingy will still annoy him by listening to his heart several times a week because that tells us a lot of his thyroid and how the meds are working, but...my level of stress has greatly improved.

I get that he could still suddenly die; he's old. But I'm not consumed by the worry of it, and until last week, I was. 

There are now a lot of boxes around the house he can use as steps, and dedicated pet-steps that he ignores but has available, so he doesn't have to jump anymore unless he wants to. He quickly figured out the wood boxes the Spouse Thingy made and doesn't even try to jump up to the sofa now. We took a bunch of extra padding out of his living room cubby to make getting into it easier and have a appropriately sized box he can use as a step to get into it if it looks like he'll need it. 

By the time we put boxes of varying heights all over the house to accommodate him, this place is going to look even worse than it usually does, but...that's fine. It's not like y'all were coming over anyway. ;)

21 August 2020

With the exception of St. Baldrick's, every charity event I signed up for this year was either canceled or turned into a virtual event. No complaints, I understand and respect the decisions, and if they'd been held, I wouldn't have gone. I was surprised StB went on and up to the last minute expected news that they weren't going to hold it, but it was before everything shut down and there was no social distancing. Just...don't shake hands. Tap elbows.

I wanted something to take the place of those events, though. Yes, sure, I could have just made some donations here and there, and that's fine, but I felt as if I needed to do something.

Then friends signed up for a virtual Blue Ridge bike ride raising money for food insecurity in the Carolinas, and I hopped onto their team, made a donation, and began pedaling. 475 miles, and finished this past weekend. We also registered for a Tahoe to Malibu 700 mile virtual, and for this one I donated a couple hundred to the Sacramento Food Bank. That one might become a regular donation because...food.

I also lucked out in stumbling across the Great Cycle Challenge, raising money for the fight against children's cancer. I (perhaps too ambitiously) set a goal of 300 miles, and start riding that one September 1st. I'm doing it with my Blue Ridge and Tahoe to Malibu teammates, Jeni, Dean, and Michelle, and while we're all riding in different locations, we can track each other and cheer each other on. 

I may have bit off more than I can chew with the 300 miles, but I'll figure out a way to get it done. And I know that's a very low threshold for a lot of riders who do that in a week...but I am not that rider. I am slow and more of a 200 mile a month person, I think.

But before that ride...I found one for the Michael J Fox Foundation, raising money for Parkinson's research. This one hits home: my dad had Parkinson's, and he died from it. So on August 29 (three days after my bday! woohoo!) I'm hopping on my bike and cranking out 20 miles, regardless of the heat (smoke in the air will drive me inside to ride on the trainer, tho...)

And in October, we're still walking for Pledge the Pink, but this time at home. 30 miles over 3 days, super easy. 

Still...I think I need to find a post-September bike event. There are a ton of virtual races out there right now so it shouldn't be difficult. And I'll make it easier...I'll share this to my FB page, and 95% of the ads I get after will be virtual bike events.

13 August 2020

 Life with him this last month has been up and down and up and down, and even on the good days, the stress levels have been high. Not gonna lie, my stomach has been tied in knots every damned day, mostly because we just don't know from one day to the next how he'll be, and every morning the worry is there...what will I find when I open the bedroom door?

The last couple of days have been good for him, relatively speaking. He's eating and he's been getting on my lap, and when I peek into his bedroom he's actually sleeping and not staring off into space. If I peek in and he's awake, he talks to me and usually perks up thinking I've brought him something (oh yeah, some a lot of spoiling going on; we've been taking food to him in his room when he doesn't want to come out...) I don't want to pin too much on his good days because he is 19, he's lost a lot of weight, and he just looks rough.

We hope we've finally got his medication dose under control, which seems to have been his biggest issue over the last few weeks. If he's good with that, the rest is just him being an old, old man with kidney disease. He's not going to suddenly be the Max of even a few years ago, but happy and comfortable is a pretty good thing to shoot for.

This guy went in for his checkup last week. Whereas Max was proclaimed to be "feisty" for his checkup, Buddah is "a sweetheart." This is the same cat whose teeth have been buried in my arm. He'll bite me, he purrs for them while they're drawing blood.

Most importantly, he's healthy. Down to 13.5 pounds from nearly 17, but that was intentional. It was a little more than I thought it would be so of course my brain went to hyperthyroidism, but his labs were good. 

And ya know, I sat down intending to write about something else, but...Max. 

The last Wick Shorts book is beginning to pop up in online stores. For sure it's available on Amazon for Kindle and Kindle apps, which means it'll start showing up on other sites soon. Print, I'm not sure. Because of his condition the editor pushed to get this through, so the typical order went out the window and we haven't even seen a proof copy and probably won't until after it's been for sale. 

This won't be the last Wick book, but we're taking a break to read a bunch of other books, and when we get back to work we're jumping forward a few years.

But this one...this one is a good capstone to the Wick Chronicles.