brainsplotch

Before I talk about my new-found running program, I want to let all my cyber-friends and cyber-readers (all three or four of you) know that we're bouncing back from Shadow's death. The first few days were tough, but we're getting back to normal. I've even warned my wife that I may get the itch to get another cat. (Not immediately, but maybe in another year or so. We'll see). I still worry about our other cat, Stella. Shadow was her friend, and she spends most of her time in our basement. She's petrified of our poodle, and slightly less frightened of our two sons. But I suppose that it just her personality. She's a solitary creature and as close to autistic as a cat can get. At least she has free reign of the basement, since the dog doesn't venture down there. ********************************************************************************* As I mentioned in a previous post, I've ventured into the world of running. In my case, calling it ...

Shadow sitting in a window of my old apartment, summer 1995. One of his favorite places to cool off on a warm night. If someone had told me, eighteen years (or more) ago, that I’d be writing an obituary for a cat, I’d have laughed. But here it is…and I’ve been practically crying my eyes out while writing this. Shadow's health had been declining for several months, but took a precipitous dip in the last few days. He was a mere shell of his former self and was clearly dying, probably of cancer. We had him euthanized late yesterday afternoon. Shadow entered my life in the summer of 1995, when I—as a reluctant pet owner—took him in at my mother’s suggestion. My mom had a friend who desperately needed to find this nine month-old cat a home. His first two situations had not worked out for a variety of reasons, and he was in a precarious predicament. I couldn’t bear the thought of this cat having to be placed at in a shelter, so I took him in. As I said, ...