I mentioned on Saturday afternoon that Lylune,
beloved kitty of my beloved, Gena, was very sick. In the space of a week she
had shed a third of her body weight, stopped eating and drinking. Gena had her
in to the Vet on Friday and they could only speculate – renal failure or
cancer - probably, considering the rapidity and the symptoms - cancer. They
hydrated her, filled her full of electrolytes and nutrients and drugs to try to
get her kidneys working again, and that was about all they could do.
responds,” the Vet told Gena, “we’ll talk about treatment options on Monday."
But she didn’t respond. She was in less distress
thanks to the IV, but she never got her groove back, not to mention her
appetite, and she passed away quietly on Saturday evening.
I have only a little time today. Forgive me if this
seems a bit abrupt, but Gena’s tiny, delicate, beautiful kitty Lylune is really
sick. This is stolen time right here, and there are priorities to attend to. And yet, I have to put some thoughts down. It's a precious responsibility - to catch the thoughts, the moments, before they pass.
There are days, with dementia, when good memories
abound. When I visit Mom, almost all of the time, that’s the case. We're very lucky so far. She doesn’t
put together my visits into any kind of continuum very well, so every Monday
and Friday the visits seems a bit like a treat – like I haven’t been around for
a long time – and the good will ensues (there is a lesson to learn in this, I
think). Lots of love, lots of nice memories, smiles, laughs.
I’ve been trying to figure out how to write
something about yoga without sounding completely fucking pretentious. I’m
hoping that being unnecessarily vulgar will help. Only that once though. Maybe.
Yoga’s one of those things that I’ve done for a
while as a sideline, intermittently as it were, and as a means to an end. The “end”
has been improved flexibility for climbing, hockey, Aikido. That’s served a
purpose to date, I suppose, but I’ve never really had the kind of breakthrough
with my bad hip that I’ve dreamed about. So I’m trying to go a bit deeper, make
yoga a focus, and end in itself.
After not playing hockey all of last season, barely
playing at all for the three before that, I pulled out my goalie gear last fall
and started playing a few times a week. Three to be exact. I was out of shape,
my legs felt like jelly after about 15 minutes that first ice time, but I
remembered how much I love playing the first time the puck ended up in my glove.
Shocker., I know. That’s how it is when you love