Where am I?

Kilimanjaro died this morning at about 10:30. When I woke up she was vomiting up water, and then fresh blood. She couldn’t stand up. I took her to the emergency clinic, where they diagnosed an intestinal tumor. Her appetite had been poor, and she’d lost about 30-50% of her former weight. On Tuesday, another vet had noticed the lump in her abdomen, but didn’t see anything on the x-ray.

She seemed to recover interest in food whenever I had tuna sashimi to offer. She was always strong, and I had hoped it was something minor.

But it was serious. This morning at home, and In the emergency room, she was clearly in pain. It was time to say goodbye.

I seem to be saying goodbye a lot, lately.

What would I have done if I’d known it was cancer, on Tuesday? Or a month ago? Cancer treatment for a 14-year-old cat? Would I have been strong enough to give her up while she still seemed to be healthy and happy? I wish I could have spared her the last hour or two. But I didn’t know, and I couldn’t.

But  I could edit this all night, without getting it right. So I’ll stop.

The Prince of Wales will close on 2007-01-21. So long, Jack - and thanks for all the fish.

The last batch of chili (#971) was excellent, too.

I’ve been having trouble with nocturnal visitors, lately: raccoons and skunks. I haven’t seen a skunk yet, but I can tell that they’re around, somehow.

The raccoons are more obvious, and they show up in gangs of two or three. This one was on the back deck at about 3am this morning. The cat makes lots of noise, but she’s safe behind the glass. I wonder what she’d do if I opened the door for her? Probably she’d wind up as a couple pounds of raccoon chow.

But raccoons don’t like to have their picture taken. This one muttered something about pararazzi (they’re everywhere!), and slunk off into the bushes.