Wrong Thing to Say

Losing my little cat has hit me quite hard. The past week has been filled with a sadness that won’t be easy to put to rest. The silence reveals the heartbreaking truth that he is gone from my daily life.

It has also sent me reflecting on pet-owner relationships. I had grown up with dogs, especially a cherished dog that was considered “mine.” Unlike those who have a strong inclination as a "dog person" or as a "cat person," I like both sets of animals equally. Consider me "bi-animal."

When an animal that you had a relationship with as as an adult dies, though, it strikes me as fundamentally different. Maybe it’s partly because, even though I had a tentative ownership over my dog, my parents still had the ultimate authority over her treatments. With my cat, only I could make those decisions.

Most people have been remarkably sympathetic. Those who haven’t, it seems to me, are more likely to have never really had a dog or cat as an adult. For some of them, noting the loss of my cat registers at about the same level as if I had said that I totaled my car. They understand it’s a bad thing, but can’t quite imagine it as a loss of a valued friend.

Indeed, some have misguidedly allowed their first thoughts to flow unfiltered from their brain straight to their lips. Since “pet loss” is seemingly difficult for such people to grasp, here is a list of things that are not that helpful to say upon the death of cat (all of which I have actually heard over the past week):

– I didn’t know you had a cat.

– I don’t like cats.

– Your cat never seemed to like me.

– A cat once bit me.

– Cats aren’t that affectionate anyway.

– At least now people with allergies can come to your house more often.

– How long did you think he was going to live anyway?

– He was just an orange tabby. Can’t you just get another cat just like him down at the shelter? I mean, it's not like he was a rare breed exactly.

– My brother has a cat that destroyed his furniture.

– Look on the bright side! Now you can get a dog.

– Your cat died of kidney disease? Did he have a drinking problem?

– Traveling will be much easier for you now.

– You wasted a lot of money trying to save him. I wouldn’t have bothered.

Considered it a public service announcement from GayProf.

Bad Days

Despite the gravitas (or maybe because of it), GayProf is surprisingly sentimental. I am already nostalgic for this morning’s coffee. Given that, you can just imagine that my relationship with my cat is emotionally charged. Sure, I have tended to play it a bit cool at times. In reality, though, I am more than devoted to him. He has, after all, been my most faithful companion for ten years. He accompanied me through the majority of graduate school, my first job, the end of a lousy long-term relationship, and too, too many moves across country. Through it all, he has been loyal and a source of friendship.

In those ten years that I have owned him, he has always greeted me at the moment that I have woken up and the instant I return home. It probably has a lot to do with the fact that I always give him a treat first thing in the morning or upon walking in the door; but there also seemed to be genuine affection on his part that went beyond bribary. So when he failed to appear Wednesday morning, I knew something was seriously wrong.

Taking him to the vet revealed that he has kidney problems, probably a result of his aging process. Apparently there aren’t many signs that cats have degenerative kidney problems until they have already lost 70 percent of their kidneys. As the lab technician came back into the room with ever higher estimates of his care, I faced decisions that countless pet owners face every day. We all know when we adopt a dog or a cat that it is a forgone conclusion we will outlive it by many decades. How, then, do you balance the pet’s quality of life with prolonging its life? Should we think of pets as being more inclined to a “natural” life span than humans? Should we be more inclined to pull the plug on a dog than we would on Aunt Sally?

For me, I had always swore not to be the type of pet owner who artificially extends an animal’s life beyond reason. Sure, some cats can live up to twenty years nowadays. But have you ever seen a healthy looking twenty-year old cat? I pledged to never be one of those owners who gives their pets regular shots just to keep them alive.

But in that moment in the emergency vet’s office, I wasn’t debating philosophical questions about human-feline relations. Instead, it was my most beloved little guy who was at the precipice of life or death. I wasn’t willing to say that his time on the earth was up.

The vet assured me he wasn’t in any pain and could return to feeling normal after two days of in-hospital treatment (Will GayProf ever be out of debt? It seems unlikely). What the vet neglected to mention, though, was that he would probably need shots every-other-day for the rest of his life once he was released. Withholding that little tidbit struck me as kinda important in the decision-making process.

My cat did respond well to the treatment (even if being in the hospital with barking dogs (Why would a vet put cats and dogs in the same room?) left him a bit traumatized). He returned home Friday and, true to the vet’s promise, he is much as he was before he became ill – except the shots.

So my once ridged assumption about extending an animal’s life via home injections no longer appeared as clear cut. In this instance, my cat won’t be in any pain (except for the shot) and will likely feel entirely normal if he gets injections of subcutaneous fluids. Nonetheless, my cat is going to die from kidney failure. When that will occur is very uncertain. On this treatment, he could live for many more months, if not years. One doesn’t have to spend long on the internet to find an entire culture devoted to giving cats subcutaneous fluids. Most argue that it is no big deal and should, of course, be done.

But these aren’t a quick injection and they do seem like a big deal to me. Administering subcutaneous fluids requires the cat to be immobile for ten minutes or so with a needle in his back as he fills with fluid. I tried for the first time this morning and he only tolerated half the dose before ripping out the needle.

So, it has been an emotionally exhausting few days and I am left uncertain of the right thing to do. If the shots become normal for him, I am willing to do what it takes to keep him happy. It essentially means that I will be tethered to Midwestern Funky Town as he will die without the injections. Asking a friend to give your cat food and water while you are away is one thing, it is quite different to ask them to shove a needle in his back. Staying near home, though, is a small price to pay given his kindness to me through the years.

If, though, he is made miserable by the injections, I am not willing to inflict pain on him. Also, I will prolong his life, but I will not prolong his death.

None of this will be clear for some time. For the time being, I am really grateful that he is back home and feeling good.

Update: Even with treatment and the sub-q fluids, my cat’s kidneys simply could not keep his creatinine levels under control. While he had some great days when he first return from the hospital, his health and spirits declined over the past week. Because nothing would stimulate his appetite, the vet also became concerned that he would eventually starve himself to death. Much to my heartbreak, I had to let him go.

I appreciate, though, all the well wishes from the blogosphere. He was my best little companion.

Which Life Is He On?

I am now officially a resident of Midwestern Funky Town. I really hope that I am content to spend the rest of my days in my new little cottage, because the thought of moving again makes me want to take my own life.

Granted, this move was not nearly as traumatic as the move from Texas to Boston. For starters, my sister came to accompany me on the trip. Also, paying people to move your crap saves on a lot of backache.

Movers, I found, come with their own hassles. GayProf is not somebody who loses his temper easily. True, true, I can get mighty angry. Usually, though, I am more of a “slow-burn” type of guy. Indeed, I couldn’t even think of the last time that I yelled at anybody. My best guess is that it was Liar Ex (Who Should Have Been Yelled at Much More Because of All the Lies that He Told) a couple years ago.

Imagine my surprise when, at nine in the morning, I found myself in a yelling match with my “moving team leader” over the third delay in delivery. Actually, it wasn’t so much the delay that set me over the edge. In truth, the actual delivery time from Boston to MFT was pretty swift. Rather, I lost my shit after their latest delay when the team leader tried to claim that he had originally promised his new [late] time in the first place and was, therefore, not at all late (Somehow forgetting our previously missed appointments and the promise (PROMISE) that they would be there at this new time. I can deal with being late, but I can’t deal with a denial of a promise. Plus, moving just stretches me beyond my normal zen limits.

In short, I probably followed very few of Tenured Radical’s Patented Tips for a Healthy and Successful Move^©. Why do we never learn from those who have the experience?

Now that I am in MFT, I have not had many opportunities to avail myself of its funkiness. On her last night in town, my sister and I ate at the local Ethiopian restaurant. Beyond that, my life has been devoted to unpacking and pensively waiting for my internet connection. No matter how many times I twitch my nose, the boxes don’t open themselves in order to allow all of my belongings to escape into their respective cupboards and shelves. Maybe I just need the right incantation... Untill then, I am just unwrapping. It’s like Christmas – Only there aren’t any surprises and I already owned everything. Maybe Uncle Arthur will pop up in my oven to break the monotony. . .



Many of you have inquired about Cat. Alas, if his master dislikes moving, Cat loathes it with every fiber in his tiny little being. He probably also despised his master for having misplaced the kitty tranquilizers.

We had not left Boston when the distinct smell of Cat scat made the car rotten (Dr. Seuss has nothing on me!). Well, I can at least count my blessings that he didn’t shit on me as he did last time.

Despite that inauspicious start, he settled down considerably by the second day. Indeed, he became so quiet during the second day that I began to wonder if he had suffered a heart attack and died somewhere along the journey.

What does one do if their pet dies on the road? Do you try to find a kitty crematorium and have them mail you the remains? Do you pack the body in dry ice? Do you stop at the next historic marker and make a hasty grave? These options all seemed like a fairly ignoble end for poor Cat.

Finally, when we crossed through yet another toll booth, Cat roused himself enough to register his ongoing complaint about his predicament. It was a relief to know that he had not yet shuffled off this mortal coil.

Now that we are in the new digs, Cat seems to be having a ball. After a year in a studio apartment, he seems almost drunk to run across the house (Yes, it as pictured in the previous post).

With all of my worry about Cat, I began to consider if, indeed, I have become "CrazyCatProf.” I go back and forth on this. In the end, I decided that I would let the readers of CoG decide. Here, ladies and gentleman of the jury, is the evidence:

CrazyCatProf: I have made special trips to the grocery store just because Cat was out of snacks. He wasn’t out of FOOD, just snacks.

Not CrazyCatProf: Once Cat does ascend to the great scratching post in the sky, I have no intention of replacing him with another cat. Don’t get me wrong – I love Cat and hope he has a long life. I am not keeping a death watch on him. It’s just that, once he is gone, I think that I will have accomplished all that can be fulfilled with feline ownership. In the future, I will adopt another dog (but probably only after I retire).

CrazyCatProf: I know the exact type of ball that Cat will play with and which types of balls/toys bore him.

Not CrazyCatProf: I rarely toss that ball around with him. I expect Cat to be self-entertaining.

CrazyCatProf: I keep a statue of St. Francis around that I consider his.



NotCrazyCatProf: I also happen to think it is a cool statue and would own it anyway.

CrazyCatProf: When I travel, I have much angst about Cat’s safety and comfort.

Not CrazyCatProf: Though he has a name, I rarely use it. He is most often referred to as “Cat.” For example, “Get out of my way, Cat.”

CrazyCatProf: Though my own meager belongings are quite trashed at this point, I left behind Cat’s scratching post so that I could buy him a new one. Indeed, it is the only piece of “furniture” that was left behind so that it could replaced with a better one.

Not CrazyCatProf: Though the sitting part is clearly too small for Cat, I opted for a new scratching post that was 75 percent off at the local pet store. They had the exact one that he had before, but that was full price. Given it is just some carpet and twine stapled to a bunch of plywood, I will always go for the bargain.

CrazyCatProf: I was relieved that Cat didn’t seem to mind the much smaller seating section on his new post (Though he does look a bit squashed).

Not CrazyCatProf: I consider scratching posts an investment to keep my furniture from being destroyed by a bored Cat.

Not CrazyCatProf: If Cat is sleeping on a piece of furniture that I want to use, I will wake him up and toss him off (I have seen other people make other arrangements for themselves rather than disturb their sleeping animals).

CrazyCatProf: I am not impressed when dates try to ingratiated themselves with me by paying attention to my cat. It just annoys us both. Tell me: What cat, anywhere on this planet, enjoys a stranger picking them up and getting in their face? None.

Not CrazyCatProf: I have no trouble locking cat in another room for hours if I have a date (with food and water). Indeed, Cat knows not to whine or meow under such circumstances because I will not let him out (Consistency is the key!).

Not CrazyCatProf: I consider forcing any animal to wear little sweaters and outfits inhumane. Even this one:



Not CrazyCatProf: I have considered shaving my Cat to avoid having to deal with his fur everywhere.

CrazyCatProf: I would consider letting somebody else adopt Cat a betrayal of the trust he placed in me.

Not CrazyCatProf: I know that Cat does not really have human notions of "trust."

CrazyCatProf: Cat clearly prefers my company over all other humans on the planet.

Not CrazyCatProf: Given my many experiences with Cat shitting on everything, he will no longer have the pillow insert for his carrier ever again. From now on, Cat only travels in or on things that can be easily hosed down and disinfected. Screw his comfort.

CrazyCatProf: I have just devoted a blog entry to my Cat.

TornWordo Dares to Ask

I was deeply saddened by the events at Virginia Tech. There are discussions to be had about the meaning and repercussions of that violence. It will take time to learn everything that we need to know. Right now, though, I think that we all need to grieve a bit.

Such events often get me to thinking about the silliness of blogging. Maybe it’s just that a low-grade existential crisis is always near my surface. Still, with all the violence and despair in the world (Iraq, Afghanistan, Darfur, and on and on), it can be hard to imagine that a few Wonder Woman comics and a wry reference to Charlie’s Angels amounts to something purposeful.

Then I think blogging can be beneficial in terms of my own entertainment or exchanging ideas. We all need these things, right? So, I keep going – much like Kelly Garrett did when she landed that plane while undercover as a flight attendant.

To that end, TornWordo had a nifty deal on his blog. He answered five questions posed to him by another blog author. He likewise offered to ask five questions to others who wanted. I will do the same, if you would like me to ask YOU five questions.

Here are the questions posed to me by Torn:

1. If your ex came back begging, would you take him? Please explain your answer.

Oh.Dear.God. NO!

In the last year of our relationship, Liar Ex (Who Told Many Lies) made it his life-goal to quash out whatever love that I had for him. This wasn’t just a case where his feelings changed and we parted. Nobody can control their feelings, but he handed me a number of dirty deals.

I loved him very much. Indeed, at the end I even reduced myself to basically groveling in an effort to keep the relationship together. Let me tell you, that required more than a little therapy to work out.

Instead of being honest, however, the decisions that Liar Ex (Who Told Many Lies) made while ending the relationship showed a sleazy, selfish, cowardly inner character. Liar Ex (Who Told Many Lies) imagined he was quite clever to have treated me like shit. He often dehumanized me by referring to me as “clutter” or a “unit” or something else that implied non-human status. He even made fun of me to his loser friends when I was feeling the worst.

Now I know just what to think of him. Time and time again, he had opportunities to be a stand-up guy, but always opted against it. Even after all of the deceptions and depraved indifference to my feelings, he managed to believe that he was the wronged party. Perhaps the only good thing about all that lying, cowardliness, and selfishness is that I have no romanticized notions about that relationship left.

Being single does not leave me doing cartwheels, but it’s infinitely better than a relationship with a mediocre individual like Liar Ex (Who Told Many Lies). I've tried to learn from the bad choices I made in that relationship. In many ways, I am still learning. One thing has become clear to me recently. If I am going to get into another LTR, it has to be with a man who has some balls.

2. Your writing seems very methodical, like what I imagine you wish of your students, lol. Your posts come off quite polished. Do you make many revisions before you post? (How long did you spend answering these questions?)

When I write an entry, I try and devote a significant amount of time to it. This is one of the reasons that I don’t post often. Well, that and I am kinda lazy.

If I write on a topic that really excites me, I could spend five or six hours on it (both writing and revising). Some entries have taken more time. On average, though, I would say that I spend probably two or three hours on most posts. This entry took about two hours.

Usually I sketch out the entry’s basic premise and write a draft. Then I read it over a few times looking for holes or places that I can add some humor (or force in a reference to a seventies television show).



Despite this, I feel like my entries often have many grammatical mistakes, especially spelling errors. Also, I struggle with writing entries that are too long.

3. Tell a funny story that has excrement in it. You know I love me a good scat story. C'mon don't be a priss.

If I ever meet Mrs. Wordo, our conversation will turn to your childhood experiences during toilet training. I need to know what happened on that particular bus ride.

Well, CoG devotees will remember that my move to Boston started with me being covered in shit. Cat did not enjoy the moving truck. Feeling bad for his panicked cries of stress, I took him out of his carrier the first hour that I was on the road. What I didn’t know was that cats prefer that you leave them in their box when they get too stressed out.

My cat educated me by crawling into my lap and promptly vomiting. Then he arched his back and took a massive shit as well.

This left me with a cooling pile of cat shit and vomit on my lap as I sped down the highway at about 70mph. It took about ten minutes before I could find a place to pull over. In the meantime, I had to juggle with the cat to keep him from sitting in his own shit and vomit. That was a golden moment in our relationship.

Visions of causing a catastrophic highway accident came to me. Who would want the uncomfortable task of explaining that a cat’s incontinence was the root of an eighteen-car pile up?



That, though, is an old story. So I tried to search my memory for another scat-centered story. BTW, I live in a neighborhood on the edge of Boston known as Somerville. Therefore the community access television station has the unfortunate (though maybe accurate?) acronym SCAT. I actually do think of you every time I pass the it.

The only other story that I could come up with involved an outhouse in New Mexico when I was a teenager. It was on the side of some highway. When I entered, somebody had shit on the seat. We aren’t talking about an unfortunate splatter – I mean somebody had taken an actual dump on the seat. At first I thought, “How can you miss when you take a shit?” Then I realized that this was probably somebody’s sense of humor.

Recalling this obscure incident then made me remember two childhood friends who were brothers (one in second grade, the other in first grade). They had some sort of game that involved “booby-trapping” their bathroom by shitting and not flushing. Even at age 7, though, they still actually made it into the toilet. Still, I usually waited to pee until I got home.

That’s the best that I could find in my memory. For the most part, I make a conscious decision to avoid shit or shit-related scenarios. If, however, I encounter better scat stories, you will be the first person I call.

4. Are you on team Hillary? Why or why not?

Why not GayProf in '08?

Hilary doesn’t particularly excite me. To be honest, I don’t feel enthusiasm for any of the potential Democratic players on the field right now. All of them want gay votes, but they have all stated that they think it is okay to treat gays like second-class citizens (in one form or another).

Beyond that, I just don’t imagine that Hillary Clinton could win a national election. Those on the Right are rabidly against her to the point of being irrational (I am not even sure that most of them remember why they were supposed to dislike her in the first place). Moreover, I have disliked her pandering to certain constituencies. I still remember, for instance, her opportunistic ploy to try and regulate video games.

If I had her career, I would become a powerhouse in the Senate. She is a young woman. She could ultimately reign there, perhaps indefinitely. Then again, if I were her, I would also lay-off the pantsuits for awhile.

If she ends up with the nomination, I would probably still support the campaign. I wasn’t thrilled with Kerry as a choice (Hey, let’s nominate a talking tree!), but I still volunteered for phone duty for his campaign (which was the best one could do in Texas, given the Democrats had basically conceded the state).

The next obvious questions become, “Why not a third party, GayProf? Also, how can we properly show our devotion to you?” Both of those are tough, but fair, questions.

I fully support third (or more) parties. I do not support, however, unrealistic or foolhardy political strategies. Don’t get me wrong, I am not one of those people who blames Green for the 2000 election. Gore won that election no matter which way you slice it (he had the popular vote and he also won the vote in Florida). The Republican Party kept him out office, not the Greens.

Still, one of the lessons of the Bushie era should be that national elections are not the place to gamble. They have real consequences for real people. Recent third party candidates for President, in my opinion, have not advanced social justice in this nation (and, in some instances, might have been counter productive).

Third parties can, however, be extremely effective if they focus at the local level. If third-party supporters really want to make a difference (and not just grandstand), start electing third-party candidates to school boards, city councils, and state legislatures. These positions, while often ignored, make a tremendous difference.

So few people vote in these minor elections, they also don't cost a lot of money to put up a candidate. I could probably run a successful campaign using my Visa card -- and I have terrible credit right now.

Heck, there are districts where we could probably elect a third-party candidate to the U.S. House of Representatives. Given the Congressional division right now, even a few third-party Representatives would have disproportionate power because they would be needed for coalition building.

5. With whom did you lose your virginity? Females count. Was it a positive or negative experience? Expand.

I lost my virginity to Colonel Mustard, in the Billiard Room, with the lead pipe. It was murder.