So it’s well after midnight, and my dear wife has awoken more than once to alert me to this, as Total Dingbat Kitty with the big paws snuffles and snorts his way through sleep in the plush pillow valley between us, and the chipped wine glass sits cold and empty in the air-conditioned computer light …
There’s just something about a bunny, apparently. As so many times before, as this morning, as I’m trying, vainly, to meditate, with enough focus issues without this to contend with, too: Our goofus half-hound Maggie goes absolutely batshit crazy over the sight of any of the little furry hoppers that call our part of the …
Few things are as heartbreaking to me as seeing someone at the veterinarian’s office with a much-loved animal for the very last time, with that shattering person struggling to hold it together, and the pet, through all its final suffering, still attentive to its adoring human. That kind of helpless grief and abiding devotion, that throbbing human …
We have one of those flimsy kitty water fountains with an amazingly tough little motor in it and a big reservoir of waiting water — at least when recently filled, as ours had been only last night. The water dispenses on its own through some combination of gravity and other science-y concepts that make my head hurt. …
SO IT’S LIKE this: Preparing to turn my stalwart four-paws companion of 12 years, my cat, Bug, my pal, the biggest fan of my singing, my eyeball, into a furry glow lamp to fry part of his bedeviling thyroid gland is frying every one of my own nerves as well. I joke like I think …