25 years!

Yesterday was Cris and my 25th anniversary -- measured from the day we met, an event which Cris charmingly memoir'd at that link. (Excuse the slowness of the link -- the Open Salon system has been impossibly messed up for the last few months, a sign that Salon.com no longer has either the willingness or resources to properly maintain the database of what are probably hundreds of thousands of posts. For database administrators, it could be a job opportunity, but that's only if they can afford to hire anyone.)

Reading that story again, I realize what a connection it makes to the spirituality of one of my best friends, Sara Miles, whose book Take This Bread focuses on a moment of transformation that occurred when she was offered a piece of bread. When I broke bread and offered it to Cris, our lives were not transformed in that moment, but it began a process which has not yet ended.

To mark the day, we went hiking for the first time since Cris's back surgery -- a good three miles and more in Redwood Park -- and then a good meal at Bar Bambino, one of my favorite restaurants.

If my scanner worked, I'd post pictures of what we looked like then. I was certainly cuter; Cris has only gotten more beautiful.

Elegy for Sirenita

On Sunday we brought Sirenita to the garden for the last time; she walked around and sat in the clover.

Sirenita -- Little Siren --
sometimes Squirrel or Little Miss --
born in Oakland, tamed from feral,
dies today. Receive our kiss,
shadow in a chair or corner,
nemesis of hummingbirds and fish,
queen of blooming springtime clover,
drinker deep from spring or dish,
acrobat whose avid leap
brought down ball and shining light.
Lend your black to deeper darkness,
under cover of the earth,
like a blanket you dove under
like your bed, a sleeping berth.
Loudest meower, softest purrer,
take your rest in garden deep,
speak your piece and go to sleep.
Give your substance to these flowers
planted in our garden green,
watered by today's May showers:
thus may death a phantom seem.

Sirenita to end struggle with diabetes; Milagrito faces cancer

Sirenita, 2009

For almost twelve years we've cared for two cats from the same litter, a brother and sister, which we named Milagrito and Sirenita. Born feral in Oakland, they were passed to us by Cris's sister, who was taking care of their mother. Cris tamed them and has largely raised them. They've had a good life in our house and garden, a hundred times better than the short, difficult lives they faced as ferals.

Cris chronicled their doings in dozens of blog entries which she authored in the voice of the male cat, Milagrito. High points: "Pets or Food?"; "The Eye of the Monster"; and perhaps her masterpiece "Sports Magic," in which Cris talked about the issue of performance-enhancing drugs in sports and the reputation of Barry Bonds through the allegory of Sirenita's ball-playing mania.

Last year we noticed that Sirenita was drinking copious amounts of water. The veterinarian diagnosed feline diabetes. Deciding against an expensive course of treatment that would necessitate frequent injections and much emotional upset for the critter, we vowed we would simply keep her comfortable and monitor her condition. That was in the fall, and all through the winter I dreaded the prospect of Sirenita suddenly declining and dying while Cris was laid up at home recovering from spinal surgery.

Thankfully, the cat held on through the winter, and a month ago even showed increased appetite and energy. But now, with Cris having largely recovered, Sirenita has taken a turn for the worse. She stopped eating about ten days ago, and has stopped drinking water almost completely. Though still responsive and not in obvious pain, she is now skin and bones, and I expect her to die today or tomorrow. We already have on speed-dial a vet who will come to the house to administer a lethal injection once Cris judges that Sirenita's quality of life is at an end.

Meanwhile, we were blindsided this week by another blow. Feeling a mass in Milagrito's abdomen, we brought him to the vet on Thursday. She said he has cancer, probably bone cancer. His condition is inoperable, and the decision not to treat the problem was even easier than with Sirenita. There's not much that can be done and he's not in pain. Depending on the speed and type of the tumor, he probably has only weeks or months left.

I'm much closer to Milagrito and found this news profoundly dismaying. The cats are sometimes demanding and often inconvenient -- I'm allergic to them, and we have a complicated protocol where the bedroom must remain fur-free, necessitating showers before getting into bed, which really cuts down on spontaneous naps or sex -- but they've been ornaments to the home and real emotional companions. Many's the time that Cris and I, after an argument with each other, have cradled one of the cats for emotional comfort. Not to mention their entertainment value; they've cracked us up more times than I could count. It'll be really different around here without them.

There's nothing else to say, except that it's sad when pets die, but their companionship is worthwhile, and I'm glad they accompanied us here.

First rain of 2009

Just to check in for the new year -- yesterday, a cold dry day, we visited friends a few blocks away, and they served us apricot tart made from fruit from their garden.

This morning it was raining gently. I went to Morning Prayer at St. Gregory's as usual, and there was a fellow visiting from out of town who had just been given Sara's book for Xmas, so he was excited to meet her.

I'm looking at this as a four-day weekend, and those are the best. Will try to get some writing-related work done... tomorrow.

Waiting for the electrician

He said he would come at 9:30. We called him at 10:10. He said he would be here at 11:30.

Contractors! They're all alike. It's a wonder anything gets done.

Cat in the garden

Just for the heck of it, here's the cat in our garden a few days ago. The flowers had just started to appear the week before.