Yeah, the poor guy's got 3 sisters, but all 3 of our pets are boys and, well, that's close enough, right?
Cats. You either like them, or you don't. They do have
a reputation of being a tiny bit self-absorbed (pot calling the kettle black, I say) and, often times,
are considered not very good, you know, people-type pets.
There are those times, during their seemingly endless days of
captivity, when a cat can sense that something is off and their owners
aren't feeling quite right, or perhaps the planets are out of alignment, the
earth's rotation shifts just a tad, and they simply slip out of
The Old Man (a.k.a. Pumpkin) belonged to my grandmother. She moved in with my folks -- 5 years before she passed, when I was pregnant with Glen -- but, left The Old Man in my care.
"Nasty old cat!"
No, I didn't like him. My husband liked him even less. Still. It's been 10 years (I only know, because my son is 10 and 4 pregnancies make for pretty good time lines) and, well, I guess we ALL just sort of grew on The Old Man.
My grandmother called The Old Man home last week and, as hard as his passing was -- I never had a pet, or anything, for that matter, die in my arms, before -- I am VERY thankful that the kids were NOT home to see it.
"Hey, uh, yeah, it's me, so, how you feelin'?"
I called my brother, this week -- he's been going through some pretty invasive tests, lately -- but, my husband and I made a conscious effort NOT to tell him about Pumpkin's death.
"Sorry to hear about Pumpkin."
Apparently, my mother told him. You see, besides my mother, Pumpkin was the last physical connection we had to our grandmother.
"You guys took good care of him and he lived a very long life."
My brother lost one of his kidney's to cancer, 2 or maybe even 3 years ago (I'm not sure, seeing as I haven't been pregnant in a long while) and, once that bitch (cancer) touches your life, well, it's like my brother's been looking over his shoulder ever since.
"How did those test results go?"
Long story short (you're welcome!) THE BITCH IS BACK!
"I'm having surgery on Monday."
They found cancerous cells in his bladder. THANKFULLY, the cells have sort of velcro'd themselves to the lining, but have NOT penetrated his bladder.
"They're also gonna give my bladder a good scrub down, too."
Actually, they're "gonna" give him what's called a chemo wash and, well, there's frustratingly little information available online regarding this type of treatment -- besides, the fact that it "buys the patient some time," whatever the heck THAT means, right?
"Good, judging by your feet, it could probably use a good washing!"
Yeah, I know -- feet have very little, if nothing, to do with your bladder -- but, he laughed, anyway.
My kids call him Uncle Bud!
Brothers. You either like them, or you don't. They do have
a reputation of being a tiny bit self-absorbed (pot calling the kettle black, AGAIN, I know) and, often times,
are NOT very good at, you know, calling their sisters.
There are those times, during our seemingly endless days of countless routines, when the planets shift out of alignment, the
earth's rotation changes just a tad, and we get the chance to feel comfort in each other, all over again.
On the other hand, there's nothing more dehumanizing than being the twin who does NOT have cancer.
Rest in peace, Pumpkin. We're sure gonna miss you and your catherapy sessions, too! Oh, and if you get the chance, tell Mamama to send some good juju this way, okay? Bud could sure use some, right now.
Oh, and as for you...cancer...
"GET AWAY FROM HIM, YOU BITCH!!!"
Don't worry, my bruh-thuh, I love you (and your smelly feet, too) give her hell, Bud!