Some nattering about local quotidiana.

( Small events feel big these days )

Gratuitous non-seasonal item no. 6: The spouse and I rewatched "Space Seed" last night, for the first time in years, and was it ever jarring to hear the 1990s spoken of as though they represented the far, far future. Which they did, of course, in 1967--but wow, still a bit of a shock. I wish TWOK had been scheduled immediately after, but no such luck.

On Saturday the housecall vet came to our home and euthanized our darling boy Bumper. Bumper was 18 years old, and as recently as May had been given a rave review by our vet. (In fact, she said that his bloodwork was so impressive that if she didn't know that he was 18 she wouldn't know that he was 18.)

On the Canada Day weekend, he vomited seven times overnight, and he was crying in pain because he wanted to poop in the litterbox but couldn't get anything out. So of course as soon as the vet clinic opened at 8 a.m., we were there. After some sub-Q fluids and a Microlax, he was much better. His blood test results came back a day later and showed that he had pancreatitis. Doc started him on an aggressive course of antibiotics, painkillers, anti-nausea meds, daily fluids, and appetite stimulants, and he improved dramatically (so much so that I sent around a bunch of e-mails shouting "Bumper is better!" to his fanclub.) But on Wednesday of last week he declined rapidly--hiding, not eating, not drinking, not pooping or peeing. We took him to our vet on Thursday for another blood test (the antibiotics were finished, and she wanted to see what was going on) and fluids. She e-mailed me on Friday to say that she had consulted with the specialist and that he had "severe" pancreatitis and cholangiohepatitis. We could have tried steroids, but even our vet said that wouldn't have any significant effect on his wellbeing.

The housecall vet (recommended by our own vet) was gentle and compassionate with Bumper and with us, and she gave him a good, peaceful, non-stressful death. We will scatter his ashes in K.'s garden, as we've done with a number of our other cats.

This is the first time in decades that we have an uncatted-up house. Bumper was always there after previous kitties were euthanized, and now there's no one home but the humans.

Bumper was a clever, affectionate, very bad boy. We're heartbroken, and we'll be feeling bereft for quite some time, I know. We're not planning on adopting any more cats--we're both at the age where it's all too possible that a pet could outlive us, which is one of my worst nightmares--so I'm going to try to be content with getting my kitty needs met by visiting friends' cats and maybe doing some catsitting for people in my building. (We'll see how long I can stick to that resolution. F. says that when a cat dies, the word goes out to the needy: "Hey, a space just opened up at Kathy's place. Get over there quick and make her take you in.")

Goodbye to our sweet Bumpetto, our precious Mr. Kitty, who came through our kitchen window from who knows where when he was just a kid. We miss him terribly.

It'll be a very quiet Christmas with the protonuclear family this year. Not one but two sick kitties this time, and since our vet is closed until Tuesday we're hoping that no one needs emergency assistance beyond what we can give  (although, thank goodness, we're less than ten minutes from the emergency hospital now--I just wish I had an emergency bank account to accompany me there).

It's pretty splendid not to have to contemplate work for a whole week and a bit. I'm going to avoid checking the work e-mail as long as I can (and no BB means no one intruding on me unless I take an active step to invite them to do so). 

I can hardly believe that 2012 is almost here. Still hoping for The Big Revelation--or, more accurately, The Big Confirmation. But I'm definitely not holding my breath.