Stacy Horn

Live from a tiny corner of New York City: Right now I’m hanging out in the bedroom with my cat Buddy, the place he prefers to be. It’s been touch and go health-wise with him and I’m keeping him company. It’s not looking good, so I’m not thinking about it for now. Living for the moment as they say. He’s alive now. While Buddy rests I’m watching the BBC series Sherlock.

Oh good god, my next door neighbor is preparing for a party on the roof it seems. Well, he’s a good kid and it’s a holiday weekend. It’s just bad timing for me, alas. There’s a lot of booming and banging around over my head (I’m on the top floor).

This is Finney from earlier today. I sang “Kitty in the Sunlight” to him. It goes:

Kitty in the sunlight,
Do, ta-do, ta-do.
Kitty in the sunlight,
I’m so in love with you.

Brilliant, right? I wrote it myself.

My friends Howard and Sandy were married today at City Hall and I was their witness. The bride wore a gray tshirt and jeans and the groom wore a greenish tshirt and jeans. I was more dressed up than they were, in my linen pants and pearls! In fact, everyone else who got married while we were there were all dressed up, happily posing for pictures, whereas I had to sneak every shot practically.

They tried to stop me from filming their ceremony but the guy marrying them instructed me to ignore them and to take as many pictures as I liked, and for some reason, that worked! Not another objection out of them.

Howard and Sandy are officially the lowest-key newlyweds in New York City. But they’re happy.

I’m waiting to hear from the vet this afternoon about Buddy’s blood and urine test results. It’s not looking good. Right now he’ll only eat baby food. For those of you who own cats, you know that is never a good sign. Maybe it’s this thing I’ve already forgotten the name of and is treatable. But maybe it’s the lymphoma finally getting the upper hand.

The results should be available after 3, I will post an update then. Tonight is the Choral Society benefit. It’s always a big, wonderful party, but getting dressed up and partying is the last thing I feel like doing.

UPDATE 5:30: It could be pancreatitis, and treatable, and not the end stages of the lymphoma. I’m starting him on antibiotics and we’ll know in three to five days. He’ll either start to get better or he won’t. Mood, better.

As always, I can’t bear the idea of life without my cat. He’s always right there.

I’ve started writing the acknowledgements for my singing book. This is the section at the back where the author thanks all the people who helped them. It’s killing me, I tell you. Why is it so hard to sound sincere, and not tedious? I’m a writer. I should be able to manage this.

I just tried for a little humor. Probably a mistake. And brevity. Also, problematic. There’s the danger of having omitted someone. Maybe I should make a video and just list the address for the video? That would at least be novel. I could sing! Yeah, no.

Flowers on a roof on Bleecker Street. They were big and pink and gorgeous and of course I wanted them to be mine. By the way, it’s pouring rain at the moment. I got to enjoy my freshly cleaned windows for what? Three days. Stupid universe. Thanks for the thunder, though.

I scrub, polish, and dust every single surface and item in the apartment, but the best and most dramatic moments are always when the window washers are done and when the rug comes back from cleaning. What does Finney do the second the rug is put back down? ATTACK. (Good god it’s everywhere. How will I prevail??)

I can never figure out how to take a picture which will show just how clean my place is. I even got under the desk and washed every wire, and tried for the nth time to make it look less like a rats nest under there (failed). I probably sound like an insane person, but yesterday I sat at my desk and worked on the copy edits. The sun was shining in my sparkling clean window, everything around me felt a little brighter, the colors more intense, and the cats were rolling around on the carpet, fed and content. Clean homes are peaceful.

The last thing is finding a nice little something for myself as a reward. In the running: a new bathing suit (but that means shopping, which I hate, so that probably won’t win) new music (a strong contender because it will only cost a few dollars) pedicure (never fails to make me feel pampered and happy) and flowers (another inexpensive pleasure).