On and on it goes, Folks.
Waves of grief. Vet visits. Covid paranoia. Home cooked bread. Up and down.
It’s been so long since I’ve had any good news, really. I think I’d forgotten what it feels like. Even just a smidge of good news. Just a taste.
Last week was emotional insanity for me. On Thursday I decided I was ready to take the old cat in. I had decided, given my experience with his sister, that he had begun kidney failure. He seemed distressed. I really didn’t want him to get to the point of pain and insanity that LaFonda did. I thought I would preempt that somehow. When I took LaFonda to the vet the doctor assured me that it was time. So, with that in mind I took Monkey in, knowing that I would most likely not take him home. It’s an awful surrender but necessary if you own an old cat or any pet. I was ready. I thought.
I drove to Gateway here in LA on Los Feliz. I wanted to go that day because my vet, Dr. Modesto, was in and they would let me be with the cat when they put him down. You can’t go into the building now but they’ll let you do that. That’s really the only way to do it. It’s horrible but deep and correct and for whatever difference it makes, you are there with them. Something that didn’t happen with me and Lynn, sadly.
Before the doctor saw him, he called me. I ended up breaking down and telling him about Lynn and just how shitty the month has been and now this with Monkey. It was probably more than he needed to hear but that’s who I am now. The guy who cries.
I waited in the parking lot for about a half hour. I was talking to my buddy, Sam Lipsyte. I was starting to come emotionally unhinged. I think it was all coming down on me. The entirety of my grief running through this last act with Monkey. I was bawling but ready. So I thought.
When they came out to get the cat they pulled his box out of the back seat and he cried and that just leveled me. I was crying my eyes out. When they took Lynn away in the ambulance that was the last time I saw her. Everything was getting confused in the cloud of grief. Lipsyte told me Monkey was just freaked out. Which was probably true. I pulled it together and got off the phone. I waited over an hour. I wanted the doctor to give him a blood test to determine whether or not he was in kidney failure. If he wasn’t I wanted them to give him some fluids. After a very long time Modesto called me and said the tests looked okay and that he gave him fluids and I could take him home.
It was good news. Granted, he’s old and sick and dying but not that day. It felt great. A reprieve from the grief. I’ll take it. I just have to fully accept that he’s old and that he’ll just be a frail, old guy until he dies naturally or I take him back in when it's really time. I’m not going to freak out constantly. About that…
On Friday I felt under the weather and of course decided I got Covid somewhere. I obsessed on that for a few days until I realized I really didn’t have any symptoms other than a temperature of 99. 1 and I didn’t feel right. I feel okay now but I’m getting a test tomorrow.
Tom Papa brought over a home cooked bread on Saturday. He’s a good baker. Like, really good. He made me a Sourdough Country Loaf. He’s got a future as a breadmaker for sure.
Today I talk to Alan Zweibel. He was a writer on the first season of SNL, It’s Garry Shandling’s Show, movies and books. Great guy. On Thursday I talk to comedian George Lopez about comedian stuff. Great talks!
Enjoy!
Love,
Maron