Sebastian came home from the vet’s this morning. Unfortunately, he didn’t make any friends while he was there.

When I went to pick him up, the vet tech told me that everyone in the back room decided it would be a good idea if I moved Sebastian from the cage to his carrier. He definitely did not want to go into the carrier, but brute force prevailed.

Sebastian is very uncomfortable right now. By the look of the three sutures they used to close two incisions, I’m certain he’s in pain and I’d like to help. Yet, the only thing I can do is leave him alone.

We’ll get the pathologist’s results on Wednesday or Thursday. There is a considerable amount of swelling on Sebastian’s leg, at least I hope it is only swelling. I don’t want to think what it might be.

. . . I visited bird on the moon and spent a little time with this interesting gentleman.

. . . Took Sebastian to the vet to see about the lumps on his side. They been there about a year, but seem to have changed. We had intended to take him in earlier, but Lefty's problem took precedence. Sebastian definitely does not like going to the vet and he definitely didn't want anyone touching his lumps. The vet gave him a sedative and is keeping him tonight to do a biopsy. I'm hoping for the best.

. . . Spent a little time making a small change on my first novel, Red Bridge. Buddy, Mary, and Vincent are on their way to Barstow and stop at a mission in California. I had used the Mission San Miguel Archangel, but decided a fictional mission might be more appropriate, considering the overall subject matter of the novel. No sense in angering the Pope. I'm changing the mission to San Roberto de Salada. No, that's not salad, but the sound was right. In sort of goes with some of the other off the wall fictional places already in the novel.

. . . Realized that this vacation definitely hasn't gone as planned. I intended to work on the bathroom and work on my third novel, but neither of those happened. I did get the working copy of my second novel, Cowboys and Indians, back from HugShyHermit who provided a very critical review. I knew the the book needed some work and now I have a few ideas on where I need to concentrate my efforts. He has agreed to give somewhat of a lesser review to Red Bridge, once his hobbies have calmed a bit.

. . . Realized my short story work has to end for a brief period of time. I've come to realize my marketing attempts for Red Bridge and Cowboys and Indians has not focused on the central themes, but has emphasized the subject matter. Also, as an "unknown", I have less than a negligible chance in hell of getting anything accepted by any publisher, so novel three now becomes the pointman in my attempt at getting something published without having to pay for a box of books nobody wants.

Of course, the cold I've been dealing with for the past three days hasn't helped either. I don't get any sleep and I don't have any energy to do anything, least of all trying to get a five year old boy to run away from home so that his parents and older sister can die, ruining the rest of his life, etc., etc., etc.

On the fourth day of my vacation, the wife and I went to the dentist. I now need two crowns, the one I didn't get last year and a new one on another tooth that's decided deterioration is preferable to a steady-state existence. Also, he'll fill another tooth because it's not a likely candidate for a crown, must be a republican.

They told the wife to come back after the neurosurgeon does something with her spine. I guess dentists don't want to treat someone who is already in pain.

Also, made an appointment at the vet for Sebastian. He has lumps on his left side. He had them at his last examination in October, but they've grown. The wife told me she doesn't think she could handle losing both cats at the same time. I don't know, I might not be able to, either.

I'm saddened by the news that Ray Charles has moved on to play soul music for the Heavenly Host. He was always one of my favorite entertainers, even when liking "negro" music was frowned on by my father.

Funny thing about this vacation: I'm not getting any writing done. I guess having a member of your household pass on is enough of an emotional sinkhole to stop nearly all the creative juices; except, of course, for this handy outlet.

Today was the wife's birthday, coming one day after the death of her favorite cat.

Today was not a joyous day.

A friend of the wife suggested we have Lefty cremated, so that we could keep his ashes with us in case we ever moved away from here.

I can see a little collection of funerary memorablia littering our house as pets die, but never really leave. That's why Lefty will remain where he is, out in the backyard, within reach of roots, soil bacteria, and whatever else wants to partake of the nutrients his body will give back to nature.

My personal wish is to be cremated and have my ashes scattered to wherever the wind is blowing. I am not interested in having my body chemically preserved for some future religious event I don't believe in.

An interesting death ceremony is practiced by some Buddhist monks in Nepal. They lay out the body of the dearly departed and play instruments as a flock of vultures comes down to devour the deceased. They have no trees to provide wood to cremate the body. The vultures get the body's nutrients back into nature where they can do some good.

That's the necessary part of death, allowing the body to pay back some of the debt the former living being extracted from nature. Keeping an embalmed body in a sealed casket in a concrete vault is counter to what nature teaches us. That's why I'd like to have my ashes spread wherever.

A friend of mine wants her ashes strewn under a Noble Fir up on Pickhandle Point in the Cascade Mountains. She figures if that place was good enough to take a shit, as she did nearly forty years ago, it will be fine for her final resting place.

My mother wants her ashes strewn up on Sawtooth Ridge above Lake Chelan. She isn't certain, exactly where, but she says it will be close to where her brother has his ashes strewn. She insists he will die first, as he is older and did everything else ahead of her. Since my cousin will be spreading his father, I'll have to get him to escort me to a suitable place near there. My mother insists she spend eternity with her brother. My father is in a box in a cemetary and his brother occupies the other half of the vault.

Since I don't have any brothers or sisters, I can be spread wherever.

If you were there, in the beginning, when Lefty and his brothers and sisters were abandoned on July 3, 1995, by their mother barely week after their birth, you might have wondered whether Lefty had much of a chance at a full life.

If you were there, nearly two years later, when we were told Lefty had cancer and our choices were to watch him slowly die over the course of one to two years or the put him through chemotherapy, you might have wondered whether Lefty had much of a chance at a full life.

Lefty’s collar is empty today.

Lefty was a mama’s boy. Often, he’d sit in the middle of the living room and yowl as loud as he could if my wife was out of his sight. Every night he had to get up onto her right breast and lie there as she scratched his ear.

Lefty was as tough as a tiger. He never pulled his claws back when playing. A swat from him brought blood and he didn’t care.

Lefty was a smart cat. Put you hand under a blanket or towel and wiggle your fingers, simply meant a sore arm because Lefty didn’t play little kitty games. He knew what you were doing and went to the source.

Lefty was a good brother. Although Lefty and Sebastian didn’t look like each other, Lefty being a black shorthair and Sebastian a mocha longhair, they didn’t allow that to spoil their love for each other. They wrestled hard, biting tender places, pulling out gobs of hair, then snuggling up against each other on the sofa for a quick catnap.

Lefty never took to catnip. His brother would go insane over the slightest whiff, but Lefty was too cool to be bothered with herbs. Early in his life, Lefty took a liking to India pale ale, turning his nose away from stout, porter, or Canadian beer. He’d lick the little dollop of foam on his nose, give a wink, find a place close to me to be comfortable and patiently wait. Close to me for Lefty was arm’s length. As his patience waned he’d reach a paw toward me, my signal to dip my fingertip so he could have a lick of ale. That was all he needed because Lefty was too cool to be a boozer.

Lefty never snuggled with me until the very end when he’d lost the ability to dislike my presence. Throughout his life, nearly every time I picked him up, Lefty placed a clawed paw against my cheek daring me to kiss him. He was reluctant, but Lefty always accepted a little hug before I quickly put him down, trying to avoid four sets of claws intent on injury.

I will miss Lefty. He was a good cat. 

We don't get to say that here in the good ole US of A, but with Reagan passing on and Bush trying on the big guy's boots, maybe the analogy is close.

I remember the Ronnie Years as out of control interest rates and America seemingly ambivalent to one man's insatiable need to bring back battle ships, those tired old hulks of Gunboat Diplomacy.

My father went through WWII and I lived through the Viet Nam era. I loathe war, especially when the government has to come up with obscure reasons to kill America's youth. WWII was a real war with a genuine reason for Americans to put up their lives for the defense of their country. Viet Nam, as most of us now know, had very little reason for America's youth to die in the jungles of Southeast Asia. The War for Afghanistan, home to the Taliban and Al Qaida, was about as close to a necessary reason to kill America's children as anything in recent memory. 9/11 was an attack on everything American, except when you look at it through the eyes of the Islamic extremists. The reasons for the war in Iraq are becoming so vague, they almost look like the reasons for Viet Nam.

Don't get me wrong. America needs a strong military because we've pissed off so many underdogs in the world by propping up their oppressive leaders or stepped on holy ground. Mr. Al Qaida, Osama bin Ladn, hates us because we have American troops stationed in Saudi Arabia. If we bailed out of the Middle East and let everyone there kill themselves, life might be a whole lot simpler back here. Of course, that will not happen because we need barrels of crude oil everyday to fill up our SUVs and we know where the oil comes from.

So, today, as some in America mourn a former president who redefined the meaning of deficit spending, who did more toward financially bankrupting American than any other previous president, and who wasn't that good of an actor, anyway, I will try not getting upset for all the harm Ronnie did to America. This is a great country to live in, but the current trend in DC doesn't help me believe we're heading for a better future.

We took Lefty to the veterinary hospital this afternoon. He stopped eating and wasn't drinking any water.

A few days ago, I thought he might make it, but now I'm not too certain.

The vet thinks there might be something else wrong with Lefty than just his kidneys.

The wife and I are getting ourselves prepared in case we have to put Lefty back into the queue.

I kind of hope he comes back as a cat, except he wasn't a very good cat this time around. The cancer didn't help and his personality was razor sharp because hit bit his nails, ensuring they were always extra sharp.

Last night I thought he passed on. I was just finishing in the bathroom and went into the bedroom to put on my pajamas when she said, "Come here, look at Lefty."

I have to admit he looked dead, but when I touched him, the end of his tail flickered briefly then stopped. I thought it might have been a nervous reaction because I couldn't see if he was breathing.

I went into the bedroom to put on the pajamas, prepared to go back to put him in a plastic bag. Honest, he looked about as dead as a dead cat can look.

When I got back to the living room he was his perking self, again, wagging his tail nervously, looking every bit the kitten we raised nearly nine years ago.

The vet said he would call tomorrow morning with Lefty's status.

I told the wife I didn't want Lefty to suffer. She agreed with me and asked if we were going to let the vet dispose of Lefty. I told her there was a spot out in the backyard where I need to plant a rhododendron. She thought that was a good idea.

I really want Lefty to get better, but I'm afraid I'll only have my memories of him.

Kitty Update:  Lefty’s appetite has not returned and we have to hand feed him. The vet suggested baby food might help. Now, we’re slowly working our way through a jar of Turkey and Vegetables a fingertip at a time. The vet wants to see Lefty Monday morning if there is no improvement. The neighbor told the wife that one of her cats did the same thing and they had to put it to sleep.

Novel Update:  It’s funny how our minds work on a problem. Last night I said I was having trouble with the one sided dialog between Arnie and his teddy bear. This morning on the way to work it came to me. You know, one of those Aha! moments. I get a kick out of them and suddenly the novel is one its way.

Depression Update: Other than for a brief moment last Sunday morning, I’ve been too busy this week to consider being depressed. I don’t know if the meager amount of amyltriptyline I taking is having an effect on it, but I am feeling better. Actually, I haven’t felt this good in months.

Pain Update:  Unfortunately, I am not completely pain-free, but the amyltriptyline does seem to be helping. That’s good, except my mouth feels like the Mojave Desert in summer and my face feels like it’s still asleep.

Miscellaneous:  Personally, I hate Fridays. I had a butter croissant, chocolate covered donut, bag of peanuts, cinnamon pershing, small bag of Fritos, a box of four blue Peeps bunnies, an apple, and my sandwich at work today. I am going to have to cut down on the fats and sugars. No amount of walking is going to allow me to lose any weight if I keep stuffing myself like this. Of course, at home I hardly eat at all.

Luckily, I’ll be on vacation all next week. Nothing special. Going to the doctor for a follow-up on Tuesday, dentist on Thursday, and the wife’s birthday on Wednesday. In between, working on the bathroom.

Mowed the lawn tonight.

Wow, what an exciting life you must live ... yeah, well, it's the first time in about two months that I've felt like mowing the lawn. Two weeks ago, my ex-neighbor (they moved) came over and informed my wife he was going to do the neighborly thing and mow our five(?) week old jungle. He only charged me $20 to be neighborly. Obviously, he didn't grow up in the same neighborhood I did.

Actually, I've felt real good nearly all week. Having the flat tire Monday night was a bummer. Having to buy new tires and spending money I don't presently have (credit) was a real bummer. Picking Lefty up at the animal hospital and being billed only $630 could have been even worse, but I'd convinced myself they were going to charge me at least $1,000. Of course, I still didn't have the money to cover it, but there was our emergency plastic that worked just fine.

Lefty is doing better. He barely tolerates me. He's still a little mopey, but he did eat a little today. That's real good.

Worked on the new novel today. What with the Amyltriptiline(sp) doping me up, not getting enough sleep, having a wonderful time reading The City of Your Final Destination, working a little overtime, it's no wonder I haven't spent more time getting my thoughts down on paper. Then, there is this thingy, too.

I think my biggest problem is the leading character is at this moment only five years old and the other character is his teddy bear. It's a little difficult writing dialog when only one character is speaking. At least the teddy bear has thoughts that need to be expounded upon. I think I need about three hours of uninterrupted writing time to get this thing down the road a little further than I've gotten so far.

Although yesterday was the day, I wasn’t at work, so I didn’t get to change my calendar until today.

I will be enjoying Still Life of Yellow Roses with Lilacs by Raoul M. de Longpre for the month of June.

It’s interesting to note that my calendar is called “American Impressionists” when there isn’t a lot of evidence Raoul M. de Longpre ever lived in America. It seems Americans loved his work as he sold many of his paintings here, but there is some evidence that his brother, Paul, who was a renowned floral artist in his own right, acted as Raoul's agent in the United States.