It's a sad night in our house, because Jude's 14-year old cat, Punk, was put to sleep by our veterinarian this evening.
Punk had been sick for a while and had undergone a couple of surgeries to remove tumors after being diagnosed with sarcoma several months ago. We knew it was only a matter of time after his last surgery before we faced the inevitable and, more importantly, we knew it was the right decision because Punk was not doing well the last few days and, especially last night, was showing signs of discomfort. Still, it was a difficult decision for Jude and she was upset when she returned home from the veterinarian's office.
14 years ago, Jude and her best friend, Cyndi Baines, picked up Punk (picked him out, actually) at "Love at First Sight," an animal shelter on Murphy Road in West Nashville. He lived with Jude in a small, 1 bedroom apartment off Old Hickory Boulevard ("the Players' Club"), then moved with her to her first house on Russell Street in East Nashville. Finally, he moved with her into our house on Elliott Avenue, where we live now. Punk went from living with Jude, alone, to living with Jude and me, after we got married, then to living with 2 other cats in our house.
As is so often the case with rescued and stray pets (dogs or cats), Punk was devoted to Jude, the person who rescued him. Others, including me, he tolerated, at best, but he absolutely loved Jude. I was thinking today that tonight would probably be the first night in 14 years, when Jude was in town, that Punk wouldn't curl up next to her in bed, when she goes to sleep.
The past few days, as reality set in that the end was near for Punk, I've done a lot of thinking about how I feel about him and about how people's relationship with their pets, generally.
Particularly in the early years of my relationship with Jude (12 years and counting), Punk didn't really even tolerate me. If I was at Jude's house, I would rarely see him. He was always skittish, so he would typically stay hidden from me. Certainly, he wouldn't approach me or allow me to pet him.
Our relationship improved slightly when I saved his life, more or less. Well before we were married, I was feeding him for Jude while she was out of town. I stopped by one evening and saw Punk sitting under one of the chairs in the den. He was meowing pitifully and didn't run from me when I entered the house. I could tell he wasn't feeling well, so I took him to the veterinarian. It turned out his kidneys were blocked and had I not taken him in when I did, he would have died from toxemia in fairly short order.
Over the years, Punk and I made our peace. In some ways, I guess we tacitly agreed to share Jude. We never talked about it. It was just an understanding we had. Part of what made me love him as much as I did, I think, was that I had to work so hard and for so long to convince him to trust me and to build a relationship with him. I think, sometimes, it's the relationships that you really have to work at that you appreciate the most, in the end, even as it relates to pets. It made me appreciate so much more the rare occasions when he would jump in my lap, while I was watching television, or curl up next to me for a few minutes after I got into bed, while I was reading.
Punk wasn't an easy cat, not be a long stretch, though he did mellow quite a bit with age (as we all do, I suppose). He clawed the furniture (especially the foot rests on my leather "man chairs"), he had a "nervous stomach" (whatever that is) and routinely vomited on our hardwood floors and, even though he had long since been neutered, he "sprayed" things in the house (including but not limited to the DVD player, my alarm clock and the baseboards of the walls in certain places. I loved him in spite of those habits or, maybe, because of them. Occasionally, if he was pissed off or just really hungry, he tore open bags of potato chips in the kitchen, after we went to bed. He could smell cheese a mile away and if I was eating cheese and crackers after Jude went to bed, he would magically appear beside me as soon as I sat down to watch television, with my snack in hand. When he was younger, Jude had to put a plate over her nightly glass of milk before bed, because if she didn't, Punk would drink out of it when she wasn't looking.
If Punk were a person, he would be one of those types of people who can speak 7 different languages. He had so many different meows - different pitches, tones, etc. - it sounded like different cats. Sometimes, late at night, especially after we had just moved into our house 8 years ago, he would meow loudly, like a Siamese cat, for no reason. Weird, really. It was like he was talking to us, telling us what was bothering him or what injustice we had perpetrated upon him.
It's not going to be the same around her with Punk, no doubt. Objectively, I realize that the thing with pets is that when one dies, it's important to remember how much joy they brought you over the course of their life. Almost always, that outweighs the pain you feel when a pet is sick, then dies. On one level, Jude and realize that's true. On another level, though, we're just sad.
Punk was with us for so long, a part of the very fabric of our lives. Now, suddenly, he's gone. Forever. That's hard to accept and it's sad. But, it's life.
For a while, I'll turn my head occasionally, in the house, thinking I've seen him out of the corner of my eye, before I remember he's gone. Then, slowly, over time, that too will pass and he really will be gone. Somehow, that's even sadder.
Punk, we'll miss you, buddy.
Monday, June 21, 2010
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Failure to Launch
Friday morning, our plan was for Jude to take J.P. to daycare ("school") at 9 a.m. and I'd pick him up that afternoon, at 2:30 p.m. I left for work early that morning and Jude got him ready for school. What follows is a true story and the names have not been changed to protect the innocent (a tip of the hat to "Dragnet" is in order here, I think).
Anyway, as she was bustling around, Jude mentioned to J.P. something about school. He immediately started whining and vocalizing to Jude the fact that he had not intention of going to school. As she related to me later, it was kind of funny, because he started saying "Bongo, please" (meaning he wanted to go to Bongo Java). Then, he said, "Belmont, please," and "Monkey, please" (Frothy Monkey). Finally, he started touching his neck and saying his version of "body of Christ," which he's picked up from church when we take communion. "Church, please," was his parting shot.
On the short drive to West End United Methodist Church, J.P. started crying. He really, really didn't want to go to daycare. When they arrived, parked Jude's Honda Pilot, and walked into the building, J.P. continued to cry. He fell apart when they walked into his classroom and put his lunch in the refrigerator and his bag in a cubbyhole. "Miss Gina" took him from Jude and she slipped out the door, J.P. crying behind her.
Jude was about a block away, when her cell phone rang. She answered it. It was "Miss Gina," calling to tell her that J.P. had vomited all over her and the floor, as a result of which Jude would need to come pick him up. Jude turned around and went back to the church to get him. As she was leaving, J.P. in her arms, he happily chattered "bye, bye, Ms. Gina." Jude could only laugh.
She took the day off work and spent it at home with J.P. A win-win for everyone, I think.
Anyway, as she was bustling around, Jude mentioned to J.P. something about school. He immediately started whining and vocalizing to Jude the fact that he had not intention of going to school. As she related to me later, it was kind of funny, because he started saying "Bongo, please" (meaning he wanted to go to Bongo Java). Then, he said, "Belmont, please," and "Monkey, please" (Frothy Monkey). Finally, he started touching his neck and saying his version of "body of Christ," which he's picked up from church when we take communion. "Church, please," was his parting shot.
On the short drive to West End United Methodist Church, J.P. started crying. He really, really didn't want to go to daycare. When they arrived, parked Jude's Honda Pilot, and walked into the building, J.P. continued to cry. He fell apart when they walked into his classroom and put his lunch in the refrigerator and his bag in a cubbyhole. "Miss Gina" took him from Jude and she slipped out the door, J.P. crying behind her.
Jude was about a block away, when her cell phone rang. She answered it. It was "Miss Gina," calling to tell her that J.P. had vomited all over her and the floor, as a result of which Jude would need to come pick him up. Jude turned around and went back to the church to get him. As she was leaving, J.P. in her arms, he happily chattered "bye, bye, Ms. Gina." Jude could only laugh.
She took the day off work and spent it at home with J.P. A win-win for everyone, I think.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Lakers NBA Champions 2010!
Tonight, my Los Angeles Lakers won their second NBA title in a row, as Kobe Bryant (and Derek Fisher) got his 5th NBA title. It wasn't pretty and, in fact, the game was so ugly, it may have set the NBA back 40 years.
More than my Vols, really, I love the Lakers and I live and die (and have for many, many years) with their wins and losses in the playoffs. I can mark time in the history of my life with where I was, who I was with, what I was doing and who was playing for the Lakers when they won (and lost) in the NBA Finals.
As Randy Newman, my uncle, says, "I love L.A.!"
More than my Vols, really, I love the Lakers and I live and die (and have for many, many years) with their wins and losses in the playoffs. I can mark time in the history of my life with where I was, who I was with, what I was doing and who was playing for the Lakers when they won (and lost) in the NBA Finals.
As Randy Newman, my uncle, says, "I love L.A.!"
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Volcanic Reaction
This morning, J.P. was in a bit of a foul mood. Bad for Jude, good for me, since I had to get to work early and she was left to deal with our ornery son.
The funny thing, lately, is that when J.P. throws a fit - when he's really mad - he balls his hands up into fists and runs in place, yelling the entire time. His face turns red and he yells really, really loudly. It's hard not to laugh, actually.
The funny thing, lately, is that when J.P. throws a fit - when he's really mad - he balls his hands up into fists and runs in place, yelling the entire time. His face turns red and he yells really, really loudly. It's hard not to laugh, actually.
Saturday, June 12, 2010
World Cup 2010
It's Saturday afternoon in the middle of a full weekend and Jude and J.P. are upstairs, napping. I'm watching the World Cup, USA vs. England, and having a Yazoo Hefeweizen. 1-1 in the second half.
As I watch what is actually a pretty exciting soccer match, I'm reminded that 12 years ago, during World Cup 1998, Jude and I started dating. I vividly remember watching a soccer match during that World Cup, with Jude, at a house in West Nashville where Jon Meade and his cousin, Dave "Salsa" Torrell (ultimate frisbee players, both) lived. Of course, years later, Jon married Carley Farley, our nanny.
Anyway, the house where we watched the soccer match was unusual, to say the least. It was, essentially, an efficiency apartment, in a house. The bathroom was outside, on the deck. What I remember most, though, is sitting there watching soccer (a strange move for me then, to say the least) with a group of people, ultimate frisbee players, that were essentially strangers to me at that point, wondering what in the hell I was doing. I was bored, but intrigued by the people, but mostly by Jude.
It's ironic, of course, that 12 years later, Jude and I are married and have a son. In addition, some of the people who were there, watching the soccer match, are some of my dearest friends. That's the thing about life . . . you never really know where it will lead you. An event that, at the time, can seem rather insignificant, can turn out to be pretty important, years later.
The bottom line, for me, is that I'm so lucky to have met Jude (thanks Peter Klett), 12 years ago. I knew her, but I didn't know her, if you get what I mean. We've shared so many good times together and I've met so many people, who are now my close friends, through Jude. I've grown as a person and I've become much more open minded and accepting of others than I was before I started dating Jude. I've had experiences - experiences I will treasure as long as I live - through my relationship with Jude. For that and for those things, I'm eternally grateful.
Still 1-1 late in the second half, by the way.
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Balloon Art
At Ode to Oltha, a clown was making baloon animals and objects for the children. Here, J.P. is enjoying his "balloon sword."
Weekend Update
Another really, really nice weekend.
Friday, as I was on my way home from work, Jude called me. J.P. had managed to lock the front door when they walked outside. Jude was barefooted, but she and J.P. walked down to Rob and Anne Marie Elliott's house and she called me from their telephone. When I arrived, J.P. and Ayden were playing together. Later, the 6 of us strolled to Cha Chah on Belmont Boulevard. We sat on the patio, facing Belmont Boulevard and ate dinner. On the way home, we stopped at the soccer field at Belmont University. J.P. and Ayden ran around while Anne Marie, Jude and I threw a frisbee. As it got dark, we strolled home.
Saturday morning, early, I picked up our friends, Hal Humphreys and Kim Green, and drove to Shelby Bottoms for a trail run. There was a lot of activity in the park, which was good to see. Slowly but surely, Shelby Park is returning to normal after the flood. Hal, Kim and I had a great run, then stopped by Bongo Java East for a quick cup of coffee. When I got home, Jude and I took J.P. to Cool Springs for a haircut. As usual, he screamed and cried, although he calmed down after a few minutes. Progress, I guess. After he woke up from his afternoon nap, Jude, J.P and I drove over to Bill Ramsay's annual block party on Sweetbriar - "Ode to Oltha." J.P. sampled his first snow cone (cherry), listened to some music and rode on "the train" with Jude.
This morning, J.P. and I strolled to Bongo Java for breakfast. We went to church at St. Patrick, then had lunch. This afternoon, a little before 5 p.m., we drove to Las Paletas for popsicles. J.P. took a few licks of a strawberry popsicle, but overall, wasn't too interested. We walked to Sevier Park, so J.P. could play at the playground. I left from there to go for a 4 mile run, finishing at home.
A busy, but relaxing weekend.
Friday, as I was on my way home from work, Jude called me. J.P. had managed to lock the front door when they walked outside. Jude was barefooted, but she and J.P. walked down to Rob and Anne Marie Elliott's house and she called me from their telephone. When I arrived, J.P. and Ayden were playing together. Later, the 6 of us strolled to Cha Chah on Belmont Boulevard. We sat on the patio, facing Belmont Boulevard and ate dinner. On the way home, we stopped at the soccer field at Belmont University. J.P. and Ayden ran around while Anne Marie, Jude and I threw a frisbee. As it got dark, we strolled home.
Saturday morning, early, I picked up our friends, Hal Humphreys and Kim Green, and drove to Shelby Bottoms for a trail run. There was a lot of activity in the park, which was good to see. Slowly but surely, Shelby Park is returning to normal after the flood. Hal, Kim and I had a great run, then stopped by Bongo Java East for a quick cup of coffee. When I got home, Jude and I took J.P. to Cool Springs for a haircut. As usual, he screamed and cried, although he calmed down after a few minutes. Progress, I guess. After he woke up from his afternoon nap, Jude, J.P and I drove over to Bill Ramsay's annual block party on Sweetbriar - "Ode to Oltha." J.P. sampled his first snow cone (cherry), listened to some music and rode on "the train" with Jude.
This morning, J.P. and I strolled to Bongo Java for breakfast. We went to church at St. Patrick, then had lunch. This afternoon, a little before 5 p.m., we drove to Las Paletas for popsicles. J.P. took a few licks of a strawberry popsicle, but overall, wasn't too interested. We walked to Sevier Park, so J.P. could play at the playground. I left from there to go for a 4 mile run, finishing at home.
A busy, but relaxing weekend.
First Day of School
Friday morning, I followed Jude and J.P. to West End United Methodist Church, so we could drop J.P. off for his first day of daycare. We arrived a few minutes before 9 a.m. and his classroom wasn't open yet, so we milled about the church with a few other nervous parents and their toddlers. After what seemed like an eternity, the lights in the classroom were turned on and Jude, J.P. and I walked in together.
J.P. followed us into the kitchen, as we placed his lunch in the refrigerator. For some reason, it seemed strange to see his name, J.P. Newman, written in permanent magic marker on his food container. I guess it was a sign that, for perhaps the first time, he had an identity of his own. We walked back into the classroom and as Jude talked quietly to J.P., I signed him in. I looked up and Jude was slipping out the door, so I followed her.
As we walked away, I took one last peak through a window next to the door. J.P. was standing in the middle of the floor looking around, searching for us, bewildered that he couldn't find us. My heart felt like it would break. Outside, we reassured each other that it would be okay, said goodbye and drove to work.
A few minutes before 3 p.m., Jude called me at work to let me know she had picked J.P. up at daycare. When she walked in to get him, expecting a gleeful reunion of sorts, she found him napping on his mat on the floor. He was sleeping soundly, covered with his favorite blanket and clutching "Maurice Meow" in his hands. "Was he excited to see you?" I asked. "Not really," she said, "he was just groggy.' Oh, well.
Apparently, he cried for about 5 minutes after we left in the morning, then was fine. He played in the classroom and in the gym and apparently had a good time. He didn't eat a lot for lunch, but that's understandable, I think. Overall, a pretty good first day of school.
J.P. followed us into the kitchen, as we placed his lunch in the refrigerator. For some reason, it seemed strange to see his name, J.P. Newman, written in permanent magic marker on his food container. I guess it was a sign that, for perhaps the first time, he had an identity of his own. We walked back into the classroom and as Jude talked quietly to J.P., I signed him in. I looked up and Jude was slipping out the door, so I followed her.
As we walked away, I took one last peak through a window next to the door. J.P. was standing in the middle of the floor looking around, searching for us, bewildered that he couldn't find us. My heart felt like it would break. Outside, we reassured each other that it would be okay, said goodbye and drove to work.
A few minutes before 3 p.m., Jude called me at work to let me know she had picked J.P. up at daycare. When she walked in to get him, expecting a gleeful reunion of sorts, she found him napping on his mat on the floor. He was sleeping soundly, covered with his favorite blanket and clutching "Maurice Meow" in his hands. "Was he excited to see you?" I asked. "Not really," she said, "he was just groggy.' Oh, well.
Apparently, he cried for about 5 minutes after we left in the morning, then was fine. He played in the classroom and in the gym and apparently had a good time. He didn't eat a lot for lunch, but that's understandable, I think. Overall, a pretty good first day of school.
Thursday, June 3, 2010
School
It's late, I need to go to bed, but I'm putting it off. Tomorrow morning, I take J.P. to daycare for the first time, at West End United Methodist Church. I'm going to drop him off at 9 a.m., then head into work. Jude will pick him up tomorrow afternoon at 2:30 p.m.
I know he needs to go to daycare, at least one or two days a week, so he can be around other children. Still, it's going to be tough leaving him there tomorrow morning, alone, in unfamiliar surroundings and with unfamiliar people. It's going to break my heart if he cries when I leave, as I suspect he will.
What's next, kindergarten, high school, college, wedding? I mean, seriously, we just brought him home from the hospital the other day, right? It sure feels that way.
I know he needs to go to daycare, at least one or two days a week, so he can be around other children. Still, it's going to be tough leaving him there tomorrow morning, alone, in unfamiliar surroundings and with unfamiliar people. It's going to break my heart if he cries when I leave, as I suspect he will.
What's next, kindergarten, high school, college, wedding? I mean, seriously, we just brought him home from the hospital the other day, right? It sure feels that way.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Whither Neil?
On my bucket list of things I want to do before I die is to see Neil Young live, in concert. I'm a huge fan. He's one of the mainstays in the songlists on my iPod.
Tonight, courtesy of my friend and fellow attorney, Russ Heldman, I had three tickets to see Neil Young at the Ryman Auditorium. I met my friend, Mike Matteson, and a new attorney in our office, Alison Prestwood, for dinner at Urban Flats, with plans to go to the concert afterwards. We had a couple of beers over dinner and talked music, all of us really looking forward to seeing Neil Young in concert.
After dinner, we piled into Mike's car, drove into downtown and parked in a lot near the Ryman. We arrived at the gate a couple of minutes before the show was set to start. The ticket lady took my ticket and tried to scan it, unsuccessfully. She looked at the ticket, looked at me, and said, "this ticket is for last night's show."
My response? "Oh shit."
No Neil Young, not tonight, anyway.
Damn.
Tonight, courtesy of my friend and fellow attorney, Russ Heldman, I had three tickets to see Neil Young at the Ryman Auditorium. I met my friend, Mike Matteson, and a new attorney in our office, Alison Prestwood, for dinner at Urban Flats, with plans to go to the concert afterwards. We had a couple of beers over dinner and talked music, all of us really looking forward to seeing Neil Young in concert.
After dinner, we piled into Mike's car, drove into downtown and parked in a lot near the Ryman. We arrived at the gate a couple of minutes before the show was set to start. The ticket lady took my ticket and tried to scan it, unsuccessfully. She looked at the ticket, looked at me, and said, "this ticket is for last night's show."
My response? "Oh shit."
No Neil Young, not tonight, anyway.
Damn.
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