I said good-bye to our cat Smokey yesterday. About a week ago, we noticed he had gained a lot of weight and filled out around the middle. After a couple of days, he became lethargic and wasn't eating. X-rays showed his body was swollen with fluid and blood tests indicated he had feline immunodeficiency virus (FIV), which was fatal. We could tell he was feeling worse with each passing day and decided that euthanasia was the humane thing to do -- before he was in pain and suffering.
While I knew it was the best thing for my good feline friend, it was nonetheless very hard to accept. Two days before we took him in to be put down, I felt terrible all day, both physically and emotionally. I awoke in the middle of the night and thought about him, knowing he was feeling poorly as he perched on the cushion on the lounge chair on our back porch.
He didn't move from the spot very much the last few days of his life. When he was well, whenever I would open the sliding glass door, he would jump down and run to the door. During those last few days, it took a lot of coaxing. I felt so bad for him. Despite the obvious discomfort of all that fluid pushing against his organs, he still purred when I would pet him.
Smokey wasn't a very affectionate cat. His mother was a feral cat from whom he was rescued as a kitten. He loved being outdoors and ruled our yard like a lion. He came in the house only to eat and sleep and never sat on anyone's lap. Only in the past year would he let me pick him up. It took a while, but he came to enjoy it and would purr loudly when I held him and stroked his head and scratched his cheeks and behind his ears.
We had a routine that was very special to me -- and to him, too, I hope. Every morning, the first thing I would do would be to open the vertical blinds that covered the sliding glass door to the back porch. He would be sitting at the door, waiting to come in for his breakfast. I felt guilty about making any noise and having him know I was in the house and making him wait, so I made letting him in my first priority every morning. I may be delusional, but I think he sensed that -- how much I wanted to see him and make him feel welcomed.
His first stop was at the scratching post inside the door. I would patiently wait for him to do his thing, then pet him as he made his way to the tray with his food and water in the kitchen. As he munched on Cat Chow, which was always available, I would prepare a can of Fancy Feast. After a few nibbles of kibble, he would rub against my leg and make noise that he was ready for the good stuff. After his meal, as I ate my cereal and soy milk and perused the Los Angeles Times, he found his place on the La-Z-Boy chair he called his own in the dining area.
I sure miss my cat. There are those who will think me crazy to get so attached to a pet like I did, but he was a great friend. I strived to make sure he knew that whenever he saw me, he knew that he was loved and would be cared for. It was not always that way, however. When he was young, he got in a fight and got very sick from an abscess under his scalp. The vet shaved his head and opened up his scalp and flushed it out. He sent him home with a hole in his scalp that we were expected to flush with an antibiotic solution twice a day. Needless to say, it was a struggle and I have the scars to prove it. But he survived, and we made up.
This morning, when I got up, I was sick knowing he wouldn't be at the door. But I opened the blinds and the sliding glass door and welcomed him in anyway. I looked at the empty lounge chair and cried. I imagined him scratching on his post and meowing for his breakfast. When I got home tonight, it was dark. As I went to the kitchen, I caught myself squinting and looking at the glass door to see if he was perched there, wanting to come in. Being gray, he was hard to see in the dark, but if he was there, I always went straight to the door and welcomed him in. I really missed seeing him there.
We asked the vet to have Smokey cremated and to provide us with his remains. We'll blend them into the soil at the base of a tree in the backyard where our Golden Retriever Sandy's remains are. These were our pets through most of our years here on Anthony Street when Chris and Dean were growing up. When we brought Smokey home as a kitten, Sandy took to him immediately. Smokey developed a habit of licking Sandy around the eyes, cleaning off any matter that accumulated there. Sandy, who outweighed Smokey by 50-60 pounds, would lie on the floor quite placidly, letting her feline friend take care of her.
I think I'll open the sliding glass door every morning and every evening and say hello to my feline friend for quite a while. Farewell, Smokey. Thanks for everything you gave us -- for everything you gave me.
My Citrus Valley Velo cycling teammate Dick Gentili asked me recently if I was aware that last year I was ranked number one in the State of California for criterium racing in my age category by USA Cycling, the governing body of amateur road racing. I checked, and sure enough, I was. Below is a screen capture I did of the page, which has since been replaced (click on the image to view it full size). I still can't believe it!
There are a lot of guys who raced more races and finished consistently higher than me in 2008, but the difference was winning the "big" races. This was the first year I ever won more than one race in a season, but the three I won were all NRC (National Race Calendar) events: The Redlands Bicycle Classic, Garrett Lemire Grand Prix in Ojai and the Brentwood Grand Prix (photo of finish above). Because of their rating by USA Cycling, they were weighted more heavily in the scoring.
This is very cool, too, but it's important to note I didn't do it alone. In most cases, I was able to win because of the hard work of my teammates in the field of riders behind me. Cycling is a team sport, and without them I would not have been as successful as I was. Thanks, guys. We're number one!
I enjoyed the opportunity to meet author/futurist/visionary Bruce Sterling when he visited Harvey Mudd College (HMC) in October 2006. During his talk (which is available in the video archive at HMC), he held up a copy of the book "Worldchanging: A User's Guide for the 21st Century" and said, "Buy three copies of this book: One for yourself, one for someone 14 years older than you and one for someone 14 years younger." He wrote the introduction and Al Gore wrote the forward. Sterling also calls worldchanging.com the most important website on the planet. While I didn't adhere to his 14-year recommendation, I have given several copies of the book to my friends. Changing the world depends on you and me, so get the book, read it and get to work! "Valorize the extremes!"
The question of balance was posed last night at Aikido practice by our instructor Dave. As we worked through a new set of exercises, he talked about being able to perform them equally well on both sides of our body. As I learned the techniques of rolling after a throw, I realized how much I favor my right side. He referred to our sides as children: one of them has been neglected -- never allowed to throw the ball, for example. Now, suddenly, this child was being asked to do something he was never asked to do before. And he was clumsy at it. 
Morihei Ueshiba (1883-1969), also known as O-Sensei, was the founder of Aikido. According to the Musubi Dojo website, "His gift was to marry effective martial technique with a deep spirituality. A master of many martial arts, he brought out of budo (the martial path) a deep philosophical element. His influence on philosophical thinkers as well as martial artists has been profound." I am excited to be taking the first step in a journey with O-Sensei and his followers.
