As soon as I saw her name on the phone display I knew mom had bad news. After eighteen years of companionship, the last of my childhood pets had to be put down. Homer was one of seven animals that occupied our household throughout the years – the last after Charlie, the dog I got when I was six died.

Homer was more than a cat and as much a part of the family as I was. He even had his own place setting at the dinner table where he would wait patiently in the chair for his food to arrive like a king on his throne. In contrast to this image, Homer was truly an outdoor cat and made every attempt to earn his keep on the homestead. His contributions to the household included came in the form of beheaded bunnies, tufts of feathers and various vital organs strewn about the patio. I know Ma Hazzard wasn’t thrilled with those “prizes”, but Homer was always particularly proud knowing he didn’t come home empty handed. He would charge in, throw himself on his back, do a little jig and then perch in front of the TV and clean himself, basking in his success.

I think he was happiest in the vast woods that surrounded the house we lived in when I was still in school. My brother and I would take off for the afternoon to hunt for toads, set small fires and engage in general mischief. Homer would be right behind use like a golden retriever excited for the next adventure. Unlike most cats I encounter, Homer never ran away from visitors. He would be right there when the first guest arrived to greet everybody with his signature vocal salute and dance. He bravely hopped on the lap of anybody that was seated, making himself a great place to see and be seen, relax and enjoy the gathering.

Homer and my dad were very close, don’t ask me how but those two were real buddies. When my dad was dying at home Homer would hop on his bed completely aware of where the tubes and wires were and would literally tip toe around the medical equipment until he got next to my dad to lay down and spend some time with him. It was clear he knew what was going on and was trying his best to comfort his friend.

It’s sad to watch something you love wither away. As a parent to an animal I can identify with the idea of trying to do everything in your power to make them better. Mom tried all there was to try. It got to the point where there were no vocals and no dance. It had come time to drop the curtain and bid him goodbye. We will miss you Homer Pierre. And when you see Helen, Harvey, Hamlet, Heidi, Rambo and Charlie tell him we said “Hey”.

It was very sad to hear about Bea Arthur’s passing today even though I’m certain it was a big relief for her. In honor of her remarkable career I thought I would post this hilarious scene from Maude because most people my age only know her as a Golden Girl.

Sarah decided to stay in Africa for an additional two weeks to visit Botswana and Krueger National Park. She likes the animals and the animals like her. She enjoys the Safari stuff where I am not that moved by it at all.

I am in charge of the house while she is gone. Nothing major, just watering the plants, trash collection, litter boxes and there is the issue of Thor. Thor is one of her three black cats. He is the only one that I have a relationship with; the other two remain hidden and reclusive. He has a heart thing and requires two pills every day administered rather forcefully down his throat. He does not do the mixing it up in the cat food thing. Now that I am writing about it, it seems rather odd; it is something to ask Sarah about when she returns on Friday. I would much rather give Thor his pills in some sort of tasty, gooey diced cat food instead of throwing them down his throat.

Do not become alarmed about this. There is a technique to give pills to animals this way, it involves quick fluid movements. I used to work for a vet when I was in high school and learned quite a few things, one of them was how to administer pills to an unwilling patient. Although I am confident that I am minimizing my buddy’s discomfort the best way I can it still upsets me.
Those cats are Sarah’s kids and she loves them very much. I have seen the one she calls Speck only once since I have been home. That cat goes out of her way to be hidden. It isn’t uncommon even when Sarah is home, that it would be days before any visible sign of Speck. The fact that I hadn’t seen her in a while was not out of the ordinary.

Friday is the day to water the plants so I was making my way around the house visiting the greens. Slowly I opened the door to Sarah’s room to avoid startling the cats who hang out there. I walked in with the watering can to see Speck lying at the foot of the bed. Usually she is off the bed and under it by the time I get into the room so it seemed strange that she was still there. I walked up to her quietly thinking she was sleeping, as I put my hand on her side it was clear she was no longer with us.

Judging from how I found her and the fact that the cats all had a chance to go outside when the Handyman came by the day before I think she got into something poisonous outside. I cannot think of anything worse happening than Sarah’s cat passing. I called the vet and asked if they would not mind holding the body until Sarah gets back home and decides what to do with her. It really sucks on every level imaginable and to boot, I have a whole week to sit on this before she returns.