I Use to Dance Every Day, So did Helen Gurley Brown

But Helen Gurley Brown never stopped. I’m taking a brief break from Buddy posting because yay! Out of the blue he’s having a little bit of a rally. I don’t suspect it will last long, but he’s eating a little, he’s more alert and moving about, and curling up with me again. I’m going out for supplies and to swim, and then I’m coming back to curl up with him for however long the Buddy-rally window of opportunity lasts.

I was up at Hearst Magazines on Wednesday. The fountain was lit pink to honor the memory of Helen Gurley Brown …

My host gave me a tour of the place, like the Good Housekeeping testing rooms. They really do test the products before giving them their seal of approval. Then I was shown Helen Gurley Brown’s typewriter (it should be at MOMA, the thing is a work of art) followed by an ever-so-brief peek at her office. They told me that every day, at some point, she put aside whatever she was working on and got up and danced. I could so see it.

The room wasn’t as big as you might imagine, but it’s the size I would have preferred too. Big offices are a macho thing I think, and they tend to feel cavernous and cold. This office was not teeny, but it was human-sized and had two walls of windows with the most beautiful views. It felt like a perch in heaven. It was packed with personal objects, basically everything about it gave it a warm, comfortable feel. I could see not being able to resist dancing around in on office like this. “Woohoo! This is my life! I must dance!”

I want to go back to dancing every day like that. I mean, regardless of what is going on in your life, what the hell? As long as you’re still alive. Although I do have a day coming up that won’t be danceable, there will always be days like that, one must concede. But I could dance today.

Reach Out in the Darkness

I’ve been afraid to post because I’m just so ridiculously attached to my cats and I’m concerned that I might sound, well, ridiculous. I’ve also been avoiding taking pictures of Buddy because he’s not looking his best, and I thought I shouldn’t record him now in order to allow these images to fade later.

But today he’s rallied a little bit and so I took a shot. He’s seriously jaundiced but it doesn’t show up so much in this photograph, I don’t think anyway. I think he looks beautiful. You’d never know he had small cell gastrointestinal lymphoma, and now large cell lymphoma, with involvement in his liver, spleen and kidneys, and forget his blood tests results. Everything you don’t want elevated is elevated.

But just in case someone comes along whose cat was recently diagnosed with small cell gastrointestinal lymphoma, do not despair. My cat has had this for close to three years. You might still have your cat around for a long time yet.

It’s the End of the Road for Buddy

All the tests came back with the worst possible results all the way down the line. There’s nothing more to do but wait, and pick the right time. I’m so destroyed I don’t really know what to say right now. Everything in life gets easier to cope with over time except this, apparently.

I’m a wreck, but I’m trying not to be a wreck and be there for Buddy, to help him through the worst thing every creature alive must face. Why did he have to face it so soon? He’s only 12. Why do I never have cats who live to 18 or more?? Every time I look at him my heart breaks. Insane, I know.

Finney, thankfully, is oblivious. He just wants to end the life of some poor sweet pigeon.

Puppies: Cute. Crying Cats in Carriers: Avoid Eye Contact.

I should have results from most of Buddy’s tests today. He has lost weight, he’s jaundiced on top of everything else, so, not good. But maybe treatable, so I’m going to try to wait to hear before panicking. He doesn’t seem to be in pain. At all. And he’s eating.

I was listening to Bing Crosby sing “It’s Been a Long, Long Time,” yesterday. Although I read that apparently he wasn’t the nicest guy in the world, I find his singing voice enormously comforting. You’d think this was a tender guy, who sang his children to sleep, but I don’t think he was that guy. (Or so I’ve read.) Still, I want to buy more Bing Crosby all of a sudden.

On the way to the vet. Everyone stops for the cute puppy, and ignores the cat in the carrier.

Anxious and Worrying

I’d planned to talk about religion and science. I have a million examples (endless really) of religion refusing to accept evidence right in front of their face (evolution, global warming) but fewer or science, although they certainly exist. And I wanted to talk about the Temple Foundation again, an organization that says it seeks to bring the two sides together (religion and science).

But then I woke up and Buddy had stopped eating again, and that was that for my day. He’s scheduled for an ultra-sound on Monday. Meanwhile, I gave him sub-q fluids, some Pepcid, and he just ate a little so I feel up to a brief post. To explain my absence, basically.

On my way to pick up a variety of foods to get Buddy to eat, I stopped at a church to interview a guy who works there who had rescued a pigeon who was caught in a tree in front of the church. I asked him if he felt like a hero, thinking he wouldn’t admit to something like that, but he said, “Yeah. I did.” To help a creature who is in trouble feels good, no doubt about it.

Pigeons in a city fountain.