This came up in the comments, and as always The Weekend Pontificator is happy to tell everybody just what's what.
Champagne comes from the Champagne region of France. Sparkling wines from other regions of France and the rest of the civilized world are called "sparkling wine". In the United States, though, where anything that swims or just floats on the surface can be called "cod", and extruded vegetable oil and orange food color can legally be termed "something resembling cheese", you sometimes see "champagne" appropriated, usually for cheap, mass-produced dreck.
Sparkling wines are produced by taking advantage of the natural "secondary fermentation" that wines go through after the primary fermentation has stopped. The 17th century Benedictine monk Dom Perignon is often credited with "inventing" champagne. In fact he was a superb viticuleur who may have hit upon a combination of reinforced glass and a corking method which allowed champagne to be stored.
There are many ways to produce sparkling wines, the two major ones being méthode champenoise and the charmat, or bulk method. All true champagne and superior sparkling wines are made by the former. Secondary fermentation occurs in individual bottles which are then aged, generally for a minimum of two years. The longer the wine ages, the more CO2 is absorbed; this is why the mark of a good sparkling wine is tiny bubbles which are persistent. Good wines don't lose their sparkle in five minutes' time.
After the wine is fully aged, the bottles, which have been stored upside down to allow the sediment to fall into the neck of the bottle, are immersed in a cold brine bath, which freezes the sediment. The temporary cork is then removed, allowing the pressure in the bottle to shoot the plug of sediment out.
This is where the sweetness is determined. The bottles are topped off with a measure of still wine known as the dosage. Any sugar in the finished product comes from this topping off. Sparkling wines from the EC must be labeled according to their residual sugar. The rank, from driest to sweetest:
Extra Brut
Brut
Extra-Dry (Extra Trocken)
Sec (Trocken, Secco)
Demi-Sec (Halbtrocken, Abboccato, Semi-Seco)
Doux (Dolce, Dulce)
The sugar levels actually overlap some, so the "Extra Dry" of one house might be drier than another's "Brut". Extra-Dry champagne is basically made for the American taste. Also, some producers make a sparkling wine with zero sugar, sometimes designated "Ultra brut" or "Brut sauvage" or some such.
The reason sweet sparkling wine is labeled "sec", meaning "dry", is that when champagne was first bottled the taste was for wines considerably sweeter than what we typically drink today.
The Weekend Pontificator recommends that you try drinking a little less for once in your hedonistic life and save enough to splurge on a really good bottle sometime. Veuve Cliquot Yellow Label is our favorite among what passes for reasonably priced champagne, and is superior to a lot of supposed "luxury" brands costing twice as much. Buy Moët et Chandon Dom Perignon or Roederer Cristal only if you're trying to impress someone with the label. If you must spend an obscene amount and want the best quality, buy Krug or Veuve Cliquot La Grande Dame.
Cheapo sparkling wine is just fine for making Mimosas or champagne cocktails. Asti Spumante, though sneered at by snobs like me, can be quite good for something gulpable.
More than you wanted to know? Then my work here is done.
Saturday, May 7
Friday, May 6
The Perfect Mint Julep
The keys to a perfect mint julep are careful preparation and quality ingredients:
Equipment: two four ounce bowls (silver is preferable), bar spoon, strainer.
Into the first bowl put several fresh mint sprigs, one teaspoon of sugar, and two tablespoons of spring water. In the other pour two ounces of Bourbon (Blanton's, if you prefer an ethereal smoothness; Booker Noe's for superior flavor). Crush the leaves with the spoon, then stir until the sugar is completely dissolved.
Now carefully strain the contents of the first bowl into the sink, and drink the second.
Disclaimer: Mr. Riley did not receive any free product from either Blanton's or Booker Noe's in exchange for his endorsement, but he's not totally averse to the idea.
Equipment: two four ounce bowls (silver is preferable), bar spoon, strainer.
Into the first bowl put several fresh mint sprigs, one teaspoon of sugar, and two tablespoons of spring water. In the other pour two ounces of Bourbon (Blanton's, if you prefer an ethereal smoothness; Booker Noe's for superior flavor). Crush the leaves with the spoon, then stir until the sugar is completely dissolved.
Now carefully strain the contents of the first bowl into the sink, and drink the second.
Disclaimer: Mr. Riley did not receive any free product from either Blanton's or Booker Noe's in exchange for his endorsement, but he's not totally averse to the idea.
Of Course It Just Goes To Show They Must Be Doing Something Right
Via NPR's ombudsman Jeffrey A. Dvorkin we learn their political editor Ken Rudin has a blog and a complaint. Yes, Mr. Rudin?
Pardon the interruption, Ken. Here's what Welna said, on April 25:
Maybe I'm splitting hairs here, but if so I'm not the only one. That "due to the toxic effect..." there not only seems to imply it's the Democrats' term, it also places its use in a specific setting ("judicial filibuster") which reinforces the implication. As always, I think the onus is on the professional wordsmith to say things as unambiguously as possible. But let's move on. Only, remember that date, willya? We'll be coming back to it.
Well, here's the real problem, as I see it, and in words I thought up all by myself: NPR's Congressional reporter just innocently notes that "Democrats" are using the term a full week after Trent Lott did his little two-step around it on ABC's This Week, a performance which was remarked on at the time by Charles Schumer and in a number of places thereafter. That is, we have every right to expect that Welna would have been familiar with the issue, and with the fact that Republicans were now trying, for public relations purposes, to change the name they'd come up with in the first place. So if Welna wasn't in fact parroting Republican talking points he's rather uninformed for a national political correspondent. But then, hey, those emailers sure lacked inventiveness, didn't they?
Finally, congratulations to the dozens and dozens of free thinkers who wrote in, often using the exact same language, regarding a piece by NPR's David Welna on the oncoming collision in the Senate over the right of the minority to filibuster judicial nominations. David mentioned that Senate Democrats are calling Republican leader Bill Frist's threat to change the rules and curtail the filibuster the "nuclear option."
Pardon the interruption, Ken. Here's what Welna said, on April 25:
Democrats call a simple majority rules change banning judicial filibuster the "nuclear option," due to the toxic effect they say it would have on Senate relations.
Maybe I'm splitting hairs here, but if so I'm not the only one. That "due to the toxic effect..." there not only seems to imply it's the Democrats' term, it also places its use in a specific setting ("judicial filibuster") which reinforces the implication. As always, I think the onus is on the professional wordsmith to say things as unambiguously as possible. But let's move on. Only, remember that date, willya? We'll be coming back to it.
Some Web logs took NPR to task by saying we were parroting the GOP line by attributing the quote to the Dems, when after all it was Sen. Trent Lott (R-MS) who coined the phrase. All David was doing was saying that Democrats were calling it the "nuclear option," which they were. Welna didn't say that the Dems originated the term. He didn't get into its etymology.
Well, here's the real problem, as I see it, and in words I thought up all by myself: NPR's Congressional reporter just innocently notes that "Democrats" are using the term a full week after Trent Lott did his little two-step around it on ABC's This Week, a performance which was remarked on at the time by Charles Schumer and in a number of places thereafter. That is, we have every right to expect that Welna would have been familiar with the issue, and with the fact that Republicans were now trying, for public relations purposes, to change the name they'd come up with in the first place. So if Welna wasn't in fact parroting Republican talking points he's rather uninformed for a national political correspondent. But then, hey, those emailers sure lacked inventiveness, didn't they?
I Just Woke Up From A 45-Year Coma. So What's New?
May 5, 2005 BENTON HARBOR, Mich. (AP) -- A pop culture controversy that has simmered for decades came to a head when a middle school marching band was told not to perform "Louie Louie."
Benton Harbor Superintendent Paula Dawning cited the song's allegedly raunchy lyrics in ordering the McCord Middle School band not to perform it in Saturday's Grand Floral Parade, held as part of the Blossomtime Festival.
Benton Harbor Superintendent Paula Dawning cited the song's allegedly raunchy lyrics in ordering the McCord Middle School band not to perform it in Saturday's Grand Floral Parade, held as part of the Blossomtime Festival.
Friday Unified Shuffle
Roxy Music Pyjamarama
Robert Fripp Under Heavy Manners
Hoodoo Gurus Out That Door
Dr. John Iko Iko
Hot Tuna How Long Blues
Badly Drawn Boy Once Around the Block
George Clinton Do Fries Go With That Shake?
John Prine Sabu the Elephant Boy Visits the Twin Cities Alone
Martinho da Vila Claustrofobia
Bob Mould Sinners and Their Repentances
Robert Fripp Under Heavy Manners
Hoodoo Gurus Out That Door
Dr. John Iko Iko
Hot Tuna How Long Blues
Badly Drawn Boy Once Around the Block
George Clinton Do Fries Go With That Shake?
John Prine Sabu the Elephant Boy Visits the Twin Cities Alone
Martinho da Vila Claustrofobia
Bob Mould Sinners and Their Repentances
Thursday, May 5
Other Beer Producing Countries Whose National Holidays Remain Sadly Unexploited
Australia Day Jan 26
The Netherlands, Queen's Day Apr. 30
Canada Day July 1
Belgium, Flemish Independence Day July 11
England, Guy Fawkes Day Nov. 5
Scotland, St. Andrew's Day Nov. 30
Japan, Emperor's birthday Dec. 23
I'd add Bastille Day but there's no commercial potential.
The Netherlands, Queen's Day Apr. 30
Canada Day July 1
Belgium, Flemish Independence Day July 11
England, Guy Fawkes Day Nov. 5
Scotland, St. Andrew's Day Nov. 30
Japan, Emperor's birthday Dec. 23
I'd add Bastille Day but there's no commercial potential.
On To Damascus!
Reuters: Army misses April recruiting goal by 42%.
This weeks' shocking revelation that Tony Blair and George Bush had decided in the spring of 2002 to oust Saddam Hussein, in discussions which were as free of WMDs as Iraq turned out to be, has certainly taught me one thing: the obvious is so naturally buoyant it may even eventually turn up in the news.
As odious--I would use the term criminal--as the conduct of the Bush administration has been, there's plenty of blame for the Democratic leadership and many a liberal pundit in this war. Democrats in Congress were maneuvered into signing a pre-election blank check for the administration with the barest guarantee that we would consult the UN first. That abrogation should not be forgotten. With our sharp political divide and shallow, faux-balanced, corporate press there is one issue which has been raised, so far as I know, only at the far reaches of consciousness: the now total erosion of the Constitutional requirement that Congress declare war.
We have come to substitute an imperial Commander-in-Chief. We have, without amending the Constitution, hell, without even much of a whimper, chosen to simply redefine war in a way that serves our global aspirations. Real war means destruction of the enemy. In an age where that destruction could be accomplished before lunch, we have decided that anything short of nuclear conflict can be handled by Congressional resolution.
There's a reason to stand on principle even when it's not in your short-term interest: keeping the genie firmly corked in his bottle. Would Congress have actually declared war on Iraq in October 2002? No. Even in the face of genuine evidence of a threat, it would not have taken that step. And furthermore, the election-year machinations that brought us that resolution would have been a part of that debate. If the Congress does not believe that sending Americans in harm's way is too serious a matter to be used as a political football, then let us see to it the sons and daughters of politicians are the first ones on the front line.
It was common in the Vietnam era to hear people say, "It's not a war, it's a police action." Now we simply ignore the distinction. Had we required an act of war we would not have created the mess we made. We would have created a national sense of purpose. No griping about taxes. No profiteering. We are at war, not just our soldiers.
Those shrinking manpower numbers are ordinary citizens taking another de facto vote in the absence of a de jure war. And the seriousness of the situation is directly related to how we got there in the first place. We went to war in the spring of 2003 because of political calculations. We could have spent the time necessary to build a true coalition. We could have taken the time to mobilize the required force to do the job. Neither fit in with the Bush playbook. Waiting until 2004 meant risking early military setbacks which might have cost them the election. Instituting a draft meant open, widespread opposition. 2004 was supposed to be about victory parades.
It still almost blew up in their faces in the short term, and in the long term its consequences are terrible at best. We are going to have to pay the bills sometime. Not just the astronomical costs of our little adventure, but the total fracture of our manpower and material equations, loss of international standing, and the question of how we address our real national defense needs. Fifty-seven percent of us now say the war was a mistake. That's a lot of Johnny-come-latelies, many of whom were waving the flag on their car antennas two years ago. We will never know what percentage might have opposed the war altogether if there'd been a real national debate, if they'd heard the real numbers before it began.
The U.S. Army missed its April recruiting goal by a whopping 42 percent and the Army Reserve fell short by 37 percent, officials said on Tuesday, showing the depth of the military's wartime recruiting woes.
With the Iraq war straining the U.S. military, the active-duty Army has now missed its recruiting goals in three straight months, with April being by far the worst of the three, and officials are forecasting that it will fall short again in May.
This weeks' shocking revelation that Tony Blair and George Bush had decided in the spring of 2002 to oust Saddam Hussein, in discussions which were as free of WMDs as Iraq turned out to be, has certainly taught me one thing: the obvious is so naturally buoyant it may even eventually turn up in the news.
As odious--I would use the term criminal--as the conduct of the Bush administration has been, there's plenty of blame for the Democratic leadership and many a liberal pundit in this war. Democrats in Congress were maneuvered into signing a pre-election blank check for the administration with the barest guarantee that we would consult the UN first. That abrogation should not be forgotten. With our sharp political divide and shallow, faux-balanced, corporate press there is one issue which has been raised, so far as I know, only at the far reaches of consciousness: the now total erosion of the Constitutional requirement that Congress declare war.
We have come to substitute an imperial Commander-in-Chief. We have, without amending the Constitution, hell, without even much of a whimper, chosen to simply redefine war in a way that serves our global aspirations. Real war means destruction of the enemy. In an age where that destruction could be accomplished before lunch, we have decided that anything short of nuclear conflict can be handled by Congressional resolution.
There's a reason to stand on principle even when it's not in your short-term interest: keeping the genie firmly corked in his bottle. Would Congress have actually declared war on Iraq in October 2002? No. Even in the face of genuine evidence of a threat, it would not have taken that step. And furthermore, the election-year machinations that brought us that resolution would have been a part of that debate. If the Congress does not believe that sending Americans in harm's way is too serious a matter to be used as a political football, then let us see to it the sons and daughters of politicians are the first ones on the front line.
It was common in the Vietnam era to hear people say, "It's not a war, it's a police action." Now we simply ignore the distinction. Had we required an act of war we would not have created the mess we made. We would have created a national sense of purpose. No griping about taxes. No profiteering. We are at war, not just our soldiers.
Those shrinking manpower numbers are ordinary citizens taking another de facto vote in the absence of a de jure war. And the seriousness of the situation is directly related to how we got there in the first place. We went to war in the spring of 2003 because of political calculations. We could have spent the time necessary to build a true coalition. We could have taken the time to mobilize the required force to do the job. Neither fit in with the Bush playbook. Waiting until 2004 meant risking early military setbacks which might have cost them the election. Instituting a draft meant open, widespread opposition. 2004 was supposed to be about victory parades.
It still almost blew up in their faces in the short term, and in the long term its consequences are terrible at best. We are going to have to pay the bills sometime. Not just the astronomical costs of our little adventure, but the total fracture of our manpower and material equations, loss of international standing, and the question of how we address our real national defense needs. Fifty-seven percent of us now say the war was a mistake. That's a lot of Johnny-come-latelies, many of whom were waving the flag on their car antennas two years ago. We will never know what percentage might have opposed the war altogether if there'd been a real national debate, if they'd heard the real numbers before it began.
Wednesday, May 4
More Christian Bashing! Now With Extra Jihad!
From the Washington Post: apparently former NY Times reporter John McCandlish Phillips doesn't care for the recent portrayal of Christians in the news.
Okay, I rarely turn on teevee news. I know we went through a period of religious mania, what with Schiavo followed by the John Paul II death watch, followed by the coronation, or whatever you call it, of the new guy. So I was totally unaware of all the evangelical bashing. I might have watched more if I'd known. Where was it?
So, in opinion columns, then. You're the newsman, Mr. Phillips, so maybe you know better, but I generally try to make distinctions between news stories and commentary written under a by-line. So, maybe this trend had a little something to do with the news cycle? Did you happen to notice an upturn in the number of columnists mentioning "Iraq" in the run-up to the war? Or an increased interest in Janet Jackson after the 2004 Super Bowl?
I don't mind you being upset at being called a jihadist. I myself get upset when the insistence on a religion-neutral public square gets characterized as "anti-Christian". But it's difference of opinion that makes horse racing. Say it again, and again: the Schiavo case didn't go from private matter to public circus because of secularists. Those complaints about Ms Jackson's breast ornamentation were all typed on the same (Christian evangelical) keyboard, as it turns out. I have only a withered dilettante's interest in Catholic theology, and none whatsoever in overhead shots of throngs in St. Peter's Square. But when the Catholic hierarchy makes blatantly political statement in the middle of the U.S. presidential campaign, I'm involved.
You cannot have it both ways. You cannot drag religion into the public square while simultaneously insisting its vaunted position precludes the sort of criticism everybody else receives. Whatever metaphors Frank Rich and Maureen Dowd choose to employ is their business. Same as with Falwell, and Robertson, and Dobson and their tax-free podia.
Of course nearly every "moral values" issue--from abortion to teaching evolution--falls apart without the stiffening effects of religious pronouncement. Religious right arguments always emphasize the former, and as we saw in the Schiavo case it's the power of a loud minority constituency, not principled argument, which pulls the strings of both the Congress and the White House. You can't control what your enemies think about you. You can control the things you say. Start there.
In more than 50 years of direct engagement in and observation of the major news media I have never encountered anything remotely like the fear and loathing lavished on us by opinion mongers in these world-class newspapers in the past 40 days.
Okay, I rarely turn on teevee news. I know we went through a period of religious mania, what with Schiavo followed by the John Paul II death watch, followed by the coronation, or whatever you call it, of the new guy. So I was totally unaware of all the evangelical bashing. I might have watched more if I'd known. Where was it?
The opening salvo of the heavy rhetorical artillery to which I object came in on March 24, when Maureen Dowd started her column in the Times with the declaration "Oh my God, we really are in a theocracy...." Three days later Frank Rich...From March 24 through April 23 (when The Post twinned Colbert I. King's "Hijacking Christianity" with Paul Gaston's "Smearing Christian Judges"), I counted 13 opinion columns of similarly alarmist tone aimed at us on the Christian right...
So, in opinion columns, then. You're the newsman, Mr. Phillips, so maybe you know better, but I generally try to make distinctions between news stories and commentary written under a by-line. So, maybe this trend had a little something to do with the news cycle? Did you happen to notice an upturn in the number of columnists mentioning "Iraq" in the run-up to the war? Or an increased interest in Janet Jackson after the 2004 Super Bowl?
I don't mind you being upset at being called a jihadist. I myself get upset when the insistence on a religion-neutral public square gets characterized as "anti-Christian". But it's difference of opinion that makes horse racing. Say it again, and again: the Schiavo case didn't go from private matter to public circus because of secularists. Those complaints about Ms Jackson's breast ornamentation were all typed on the same (Christian evangelical) keyboard, as it turns out. I have only a withered dilettante's interest in Catholic theology, and none whatsoever in overhead shots of throngs in St. Peter's Square. But when the Catholic hierarchy makes blatantly political statement in the middle of the U.S. presidential campaign, I'm involved.
You cannot have it both ways. You cannot drag religion into the public square while simultaneously insisting its vaunted position precludes the sort of criticism everybody else receives. Whatever metaphors Frank Rich and Maureen Dowd choose to employ is their business. Same as with Falwell, and Robertson, and Dobson and their tax-free podia.
Of course nearly every "moral values" issue--from abortion to teaching evolution--falls apart without the stiffening effects of religious pronouncement. Religious right arguments always emphasize the former, and as we saw in the Schiavo case it's the power of a loud minority constituency, not principled argument, which pulls the strings of both the Congress and the White House. You can't control what your enemies think about you. You can control the things you say. Start there.
Behind The Scenes At The Making Of The Discarded First Draft Of Laura's Comedy Routine
I'm late, as usual. I didn't actually see any clips of Laura Bush's hysterical performance at the correspondents' dinner until the last rerun of Monday's The Daily Show. So now I can honestly say: That was what people found so funny? Jeez Louise, for woman who wears her three-month stint as a librarian as a badge of honor, she can't even read!
I mean "read" in the performance sense, of course. We Midwesterners are not given to broad, unsupportable pronouncements of that sort. I should also add that in a half-century I've never heard a Hoosier make a horse dick joke, but maybe I just travel in the wrong circles. She read that thing like she was reading to a group of nine-year-olds.
I'd read the excerpts, of course, which is why I was expecting some sort of credible performance to explain the hoopla. And not to make too much of it. It's the WH Correspondents' dinner, so where it once was a chance for politicians to make self-deprecating speeches to the people who covered them, it's now a salute to our new Insect Overlords, and I suppose many of the Damned were so astonished to hear the president criticized, even in jest, that they imagined something extraordinary had taken place.
[It's just a thought, but wasn't that "wait-til-he-finds-out-he's-trying-to-milk-a-male" routine a toilet-paper commercial or something just long enough ago that using it now was a "where's the beef?" moment? Don't they have any jokewriters who didn't work for Eisenhower? Or did the edgier guy add the Desperate Housewives gag?]
Anyway, sometime Monday I got the idea to write a Discarded First Draft of the First Lady's routine. First I was gonna have them trying out various comedy personas on her, like the Bob Hope and the Bob Newhart, and finally the Carrot Top (or, as I like to call him, Rip Taylor without the good material). That one didn't quite work, and let me tell you, writing even bad copy for Steven Wright is damn near impossible. Then it occurred to me to leave George on stage and have them do a "Who's On First?" routine. That one I completed, but I forgot to add laughs. If only James Watt was still in the news it would have worked.
I was finally reduced to trying to find a picture of Howie Mandel with the blown-up glove on his head I could Photoshop over a picture of Laura. There's not as much Howie Mandel material on the internets as you might expect. The one I found was really small, and it took so much time I was falling asleep at it. As you probably would have, to.
In the end, you're stuck with filler. But, in a way, that's fitting, innit?
I mean "read" in the performance sense, of course. We Midwesterners are not given to broad, unsupportable pronouncements of that sort. I should also add that in a half-century I've never heard a Hoosier make a horse dick joke, but maybe I just travel in the wrong circles. She read that thing like she was reading to a group of nine-year-olds.
I'd read the excerpts, of course, which is why I was expecting some sort of credible performance to explain the hoopla. And not to make too much of it. It's the WH Correspondents' dinner, so where it once was a chance for politicians to make self-deprecating speeches to the people who covered them, it's now a salute to our new Insect Overlords, and I suppose many of the Damned were so astonished to hear the president criticized, even in jest, that they imagined something extraordinary had taken place.
[It's just a thought, but wasn't that "wait-til-he-finds-out-he's-trying-to-milk-a-male" routine a toilet-paper commercial or something just long enough ago that using it now was a "where's the beef?" moment? Don't they have any jokewriters who didn't work for Eisenhower? Or did the edgier guy add the Desperate Housewives gag?]
Anyway, sometime Monday I got the idea to write a Discarded First Draft of the First Lady's routine. First I was gonna have them trying out various comedy personas on her, like the Bob Hope and the Bob Newhart, and finally the Carrot Top (or, as I like to call him, Rip Taylor without the good material). That one didn't quite work, and let me tell you, writing even bad copy for Steven Wright is damn near impossible. Then it occurred to me to leave George on stage and have them do a "Who's On First?" routine. That one I completed, but I forgot to add laughs. If only James Watt was still in the news it would have worked.
I was finally reduced to trying to find a picture of Howie Mandel with the blown-up glove on his head I could Photoshop over a picture of Laura. There's not as much Howie Mandel material on the internets as you might expect. The one I found was really small, and it took so much time I was falling asleep at it. As you probably would have, to.
In the end, you're stuck with filler. But, in a way, that's fitting, innit?
Tuesday, May 3
The Hoover
Hoover, in her salad days, caught reaching for the last bite of someone else's salad.
I've been kicking this post around for a while. I almost did it a few weeks back, only to find that TBogg had a nice tribute to a fallen basset just before. Then there was a discussion at Chris Clarke's where some folks said the pain of losing a pet was such that they didn't think they could ever get another. I left this alone for a while rather than ride piggy-back.
Hoover is still with us, but I doubt it will be for long. Yesterday she took a turn for the worse. There are a few hopeful signs; we'll just see how it goes.
Because we wound up with four cats at one point, we've gone through a period of ten years with at least one elderly cat around. Pups died four years ago at twenty, in her third bout with a very rare cancer. She was a lousy pet. She didn't like people much, or the other cats. Feed me and leave me the fuck alone. But in old age, deaf as a post, a subtle change came over her and she seemed to come to appreciate the things we did for her. Her loss affected me a lot more than I expected it to. Maybe it was just the sweet helplessness of her later years, when you had to stand guard over her food to make sure Hoover didn't get it all. Hoover was not named by accident. Maybe it had something to do with those twenty years which were now dead for all of us.
Lowell (Boy) went next, two years ago last September. Smartest cat I ever had, except for his proclivity to get stuck in neighbor's garages. First-rate mouser. He ruled the roost, but did it with absolute deference to all the others; never pushed his way into anybody else's food bowl or challenged their choice of favorite spot. His one rule was that no one else got to sleep with us on the bed. He was trained (more or less) to come to my whistle (provided he wanted to); the others picked it up from him. In the last year of his life he decided he wanted to sleep on my pillow and groom me before going to sleep. For, like, five minutes. Maybe he thought the hair would grow back.
Late that summer, his fifteenth, my wife noticed he was losing his balance. It was almost imperceptible at first, then got dramatically worse. He had a brain tumor, they thought, or some neurological disorder. We fought it for about six weeks. Medication would take effect and he'd be back to normal for four days, then spiral downward again. I had to put up a barrier on the open side of the basement stairs, else he'd just tumble right off. I slept with him in the guest room the last couple weeks so he wouldn't have to go upstairs. He was comatose one afternoon when I was home and it was clear his time was up. And the friggin' vet who'd been collecting $200 a week for his medicine told me when I called it was too late to bring him in, would I like an appointment for the next day?
We have a new vet. The receptionist at the old one knows some new swear words.
There weren't many tears for the Boy. I don't know why. So much had been taken from him so quickly, I guess. But it took a long time to stop looking at the bench on the deck expecting to find him there, or to get used to him not showing up at bedtime. The neighbor's daughter drew a picture of him for me when I was in the hospital two weeks later, and it's still on the refrigerator and still makes me smile.
Hoover's fifteen now, a stray like the others. Once she moved in we had to stop leaving food out because she'd eat every bit of it. An angelic face, wide with great cheekbones, but she always retained something of the alley. She'd growl and hiss and spit whenever anyone, cat or human, did something she didn't care for. You did not pet her except at times and in spots of her choosing. At age four we woke up to her vomiting one morning. You live around cats you get used to them heaving up all sorts of stuff, but this sounded different. She was jaundiced, and the prognosis was not good--feline leukemia or AIDS. But all the tests came back negative. We had to force feed her for a month, in the bathtub, six times a day, babyfood everywhere. She dropped to about five pounds. Then one morning she was up and around and back stealing the other cats' food.
A couple years back she started tearing out clumps of fur. The new vet did some blood work, then brought her back in to get some bone marrow. Turns out she's had leukemia all along, but was a rarity in that it didn't show up in blood tests. She's also hyperthyroid, but can't be treated because of her weakened state. "If she was a dog she'd already be dead," he told us, and he wasn't giving odds she'd make it through the summer, but she's still with us.
And a joy. The former queen of spitting at anyone who got into her personal space has become a real sweetheart. Now she purrs when you speak to her, and follows you around the garden, and gives you a little pat when she thinks it's time to be fed again, instead of howling her head off at the food bowl as you walk by. She's bony and stiff and her fur goes in every direction; can't keep herself clean and isn't up to being given even one of those dry baths. But she's still active, still the bane of chipmunks and moles in the wilderness out back.
Yesterday morning after breakfast she went outside, and the next time I saw her she was crouched down in an odd way, and I knew something was wrong. She took her vitamins as usual, but turned up her nose at dinner. She'll eat a little babyfood--voraciously, like her old self--but then she'll lie down right next to the bowl. No obvious pain, still purrs to be touched. Could just be a passing bug, but I'm hoping against hope.
I wouldn't give up their twilight days for anything. The pain is just a measure of the caring on both sides, the last tender years make up for what their slowing down tells you every day. She'll get her spot in the back of the garden with the other two, and there'll be a new kitten in the house shortly after. It's worth it. Through everything, it's worth it.
Yes, goddam it, there are bigger problems in the world and we show more pity to a mongrel dog in the rain than we do to our fellow human beings. It doesn't mean we're naturally selfish. It means we have to learn, someday, that the love we feel for our own extends, eventually, around the globe. We pride ourselves in our superior intellects. I hope someday we'll follow them to a little wisdom.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)