Black, bitter, and full of spite.
Scout Niblet and Bonnie Prince Billy
5 years ago I started this blog to just upload pictures. Now it’s become a bit more. It’s given me a place to rant and rave! Yay! Happy bday online journal.
This weekend, my fiance’s mom got married to her dudefriend! It was a great ceremony, and they make a perfect couple. It was followed up with meeting Elyse’s family and friends which has made me even more excited about our own wedding. It’s comforting that I’ll be part of a group of very friendly and nice folks. People that remind me of my own family.
Kara’s girlfriend Jill also reminded me how awesome the Exploding Hearts are!
However, its bittersweet because our cat-son, comrade, general pain in the ass, animal companion, and loyal friend, Steve the Cat aka Steve is the Bastard aka Cat Stevens aka Chunky Butt has to be put down on Tuesday. The tumor in his colon has made him totally bummed out and depressed. He cares not to eat, nor jump on the bed/amp/stereo receiver and would rather hide in the comforting cave that is under the bed. The vet is stopping by our house Tuesday evening to help him along to leave this plane of existence. I’m not much of a religious person, but I am a spiritual one. I like to think that he will cross the rainbow bridge into Valhalla, through the catnip fields of Elysium, enter that Kentucky like place that they call Heaven, and arrive at Nirvana. Regardless, I know that even though this is sorrowful goodbye, we will meet each other again in that other place, either in the memories within my head, or the strings of my heart.
This morning I was completely broken-hearted and cried into his fur. I know the decision is the best for Steve, to find rest, and to become his former self, not here but in another place. He knew how distraught I was and gave me a pleasant head-butt. I took this as an approval, as a role of a co-caretaker and responsible cat friend.
In classic, vintage Steve fashion, the little bastard also gave me a going away present. A final, compassionate “fuck you,” urinating on not only an undershirt but my favorite Hellshock shirt. I would expect no less from my thoughtless yet affectionate friend.
Nirvana interview from 1994