The Catch Up

To continue from my last post - my computer problems continue. I've got a new SATA HD, a GE Force 6800 and 2GB of (supposedly) compatible RAM but the same dang shit keeps happening. So, it looks like I will have to RMA the motherboard and hope a replacement fixes this weirdness.

But, that's just become the least of my problems. My best and favorite pet - Juliet, has cancer and we've decided not to prolong her death. She'll be leaving us Wednesday this week. It's a hard decision, but an easy one considering the pain she'd go through otherwise. It's her time and I don't want her to suffer.

We adopted her a long time ago -- Jules has been with us since a month or two after Clarisa got back from Korea and the Army. She was 2 - 4 years old then and we've been married over 12 years now and that puts her around 75-85 years old in human terms. A good run.

I can still remember how Clarisa waited patiently on my parents back steps and coaxed a very beautiful but skittish cat to actually come up to her and eat grilled chicken from her hand. This kept up for a few weeks until she really trusted us. My mom as a rule has not been to keen on cats on her life, but for Jules she made an exception and she let us adopt Juliet. That first night we invited her up into our bed and Jules just jumped up, curled into a ball at the foot of the bed and purred like a motorboat most of the night. She sure seemed grateful and we were just happy she'd claimed us.

Like I said, she's been with us ever since and has been an absolutely great companion. She's been in each apartment and in ritualistic fashion has decided to bolt in protest each time we moved. When we left Poughkeepsie, she took off in a rainstorm and ran across three yards and hid out under a truck. An hour later I had her in the car. Soaking wet and pissed off, but safe. When we went to move from Peekskill, both her and Little Guy made a a great escape out a kitchen window only to wind up in the cottage's basement. Again, it took about an hour and some chicken to coax her out, but I got her - and that was after Clarisa and Jennifer had combed the area for them for hours and had to leave. So there I was, in my work clothes, halfway into a crawl-space in and waving chicken at a pair of glowing eyes.

I cannot believe I have to do this again so soon after Sasha.

Again I find myself talking to someone I love with the knowledge that there is nothing I can do to save them except let them go. And again I'll be telling someone I'm sorry.

It's the right thing to do, but that doesn't stop the hurt or the frustration.

Fuck fuck fuck.