I Am Always The Bad Guy, And That's OK I Know How To Do It

It's been a wild couple of days. We had an election, and much to my joy more people are going to the polls. Much to my sorrow, a few states think that marriage means a man and a woman. This issue is not over, it's just beginning, and I am only just starting on my new water campaign.

The conservative investor could be holding Google, Goldman Sachs, and Cisco Systems. Or you could be in cash. The economy is slowing. Or, you could hold an international basket of stocks, but unless you have unusual expertise, try using the Exchange Traded Fund that covers the entire International Area.

Now, for what's really been happening. I have mentioned my friend Margie before. Margie is the kind of friend I absolutely must have. I could not make it without her. She knows absolutely everything I don't know and more, and she will tell me when I am wrong. Without hesitation. The next time I am rich, I am taking her to Manolo's in New York for shoes and a handbag. And lunch. I'm keeping this clean.

She and I got together on Holmes' condition. Judy (that's my real wife of 991 years and yes, she knows about everyone) and I got Holmes to start eating and she gained a pound, but she didn't seem to be herself. Margie dug up the vet rules that they look for before they euthanize an animal. I do not take these things lightly. They are:

1: The animal soils itself repeatedly
2: The animal no longer seeks or responds to human company.
3: The animal can still move around without pain
4: The animal can still eat

Here is the article, courtesy of my wonderful friend Margie, and you can see I have paraphrased.


Neither of us had been asleep since the election. Holmes hit three of the four. Worse, she was so lethargic that she didn't want to do anything but sleep. she barely ate. Last night, we decided that her time had come. I knew what role I was going to play. I wrote about it before. There's an example in golf, which I don't play so you don't have to be a golfer to understand this. An amateur walks up to the ball in golf, figures out what they are going to do, and then does it. A professional in golf, figures out what they are going to do, walks up to the ball, and then does it. the professional makes a lot fewer mistakes than the amateur does. Therefore, I, the big tough guy, over the life of the cats, have evolved into the holder of the cat for whatever dastardly thing that needs to be done, and therefore also, in the cats eyes, The Bad Guy. I play this part well, and I am very good at it, although I do get scratched. According to the Bill Of Rights for Cats in this House, the 8th Right is A Cat has the right to defend herself. This is how I became the holder. Although I give myself at least four (4) injections a day, my wife gives the cat all of her injections. And pills. You can see it coming, can't you. My role.

Cats do not like getting needles. They consider it a violation of their personal territory and a declaration of war. They declare war upon the holder, who is widely viewed as the bad guy. Years of data collection have demonstrated to me that the reason for this is that they are looking at the holder when they get the needle, not the person giving the injection. This means that when she got an injection at the vets office, and I wasn't there, when she got home, she'd run in and see me and yell at me because she got a needle. I was that much of a bad guy. No need to order a black Stetson, I have been marked for life by Holmes, as the bad guy, until this morning.

We went to the vets. I had a heavy heart because this was the morning. Judy had spent the entire night trying to feed Holmes a little at a time. That's what she had eaten, a tiny bit at a time. Early this morning, Holmes had a small bit of energy, trying to hide. It didn't last long. We got her to the vets, and then the vet came in. We explained the situation to her, and then we were astonished. Here's is where we discovered the weight gain. We found out that there hadn't been a lot of tissue damage from the kidney loss, that a lot of the lethargy had come from the fluid build up that happens when cats get fluids. Suddenly, my cat, the one I had come to put down was showing a lot of backbone. The vet was explaining that she was off the charts when it comes to age, and to think in terms of 100 ++. With that, Holmes jumped off the table and raced to her carrier. Mouths falling open. This is not the behavior of a cat on her last legs. And I am talking about trying to make sure I don't rob her of her dignity.

It's time for fluids, and vitamins, and antibiotics, and a pill that settles her stomach and helps her to eat. All goes well until the pill. Cats hate to have a pill give to them. Judy pins Holmes down on the table. I hold her paws so she can't rip the tech's face off (remember, we're talking about a 100++ year old cat on her last legs with bad kidneys and a dying thyroid here) and the tech grabs her face and prys her mouth open to put the pill in, then closes her mouth and holds it shut. Only took three people. Ooooops, a pill goes arching across the room into the corner. Three times. We took Holmes home laughing hysterically. I would be working really hard not to feeling like a rat Nazi bastard except we have to try to pill her tonight. And, there's only two of us to try to pill a 5 pound cat. It's time for kung fu to supplement my tai chi, I don't have the time to worry about making mistakes now. Holmes has appointments for several months now. According to the vet, she's not an issue anymore. But, the vet does recommend we sit down and have a heart to heart with her about these matters. Yeah, maybe next week, today, we're all sleeping.

I'll be back to normal whenever I wake up.