Thursday, May 19, 2005

So Long, And Thanks For All the Fish

Everyone said I would know when it was time, and tonight was the night. Nurse Sis and I loaded Calliope into her crate, after Stat and Hero came in to say goobye to her. We went over Laurel Canyon, and we were both crying so hard I asked Brenda if I was going to die on Laurel Canyon (same street where the drunk driver hit me ten years ago).

Calliope always meows like crazy in a car, but tonight she purred and was so calm I opened the crate and pet her the whole way. Bren went in and arranged all the money and logistics, and kept telling the worried staff she was the calm one even while she was crying in the waiting room.

She came and got me and we went right in, and the vet tech started crying (the other vet tech yesterday cried when I couldn't get an appointment...I seem to have a way with these poor people...I could never do what they do so well and sweetly).

Everyone was great to us, even the new guy who walked in scared of us and told us nineteen years was a good long life for a kitty. Then the nice lady doctor came in and explained the pink shot. Nurse Sis and I pet Calliope and told her we loved her while she went to sleep. We stayed with her until they picked her up, and it was this other female tech who looked at what a wreck I was and told me "It was just her shell. She'll be back someday. My dog came back to me." Which was such a kind thing to say, and used to be exactly what I believed in before my car accident. And somehow in that moment it was something I could believe again.

Brenda and I drove home, and talked about how we knew it was the right time, and it was so peaceful and so much better than her dying alone in the middle of the night, or drowning in her water bowl that Brenda found her collapsed in yesterday.

And I said, "Don't think I'm psycho or need wish fulfillment, but I kind of feel like Calliope's on my lap right now." And Brenda said, "Well, she watched out for you for nineteen years, so I imagine she would want to check in and make sure you're okay."

We were stopped at an intersection and I looked at the car in front of us. I pointed at the license plate frame. Brenda read it:
"So Long, And Thanks For All the Fish."

Who knew Pissy had the Fies Family wit? That's one funny cat dancing up to heaven in the moonlight.

So long, Calliope. We love you.


Anonymous said...

Best wishes to Calliope on her spirit-journey...

And best wishes to you on your meeting! Go get 'em NP!

Did you know, btw, that 8% of the English listed "Jedi" as their religion on the last British census survey? (Per "Harper's Index.") Oh, oh, how cinema can change the world!

(And way rip-off of Lao-Tzu, Lucas!)

PS. You should read Anthony Lane's review of the new "Star Wars" in this week's "New Yorker" -- nearly pissed myself laughing. I know it's cool, as 'artistes,' to hate reviewers, but this... well, Lucas gets what's coming to him.


Kidsis said...

Here it is everyone:

Seriously, I could write something so much worse than that. Notice that the female Jedi was the only one who never had a clue she was about to get attacked and did nothing to defend herself while looking stunningly naked in that bikini? Thanks, George. Oh god...I've got to stop now. I could write a thesis on why I really really really didn't like it or any of the messages behind it.

Lynne said...

Sis, I have tears in my eyes. I am sitting here in Connectict at a Bernie Siegel retreat, of all things, (well, the retreat is over for today) More tomorrow.

That bumper sticker was absolutely a message to you.

Feed your spirit.

I have a feeling you are on the path to some new/old ideas.

Blowing kisses to Colliope
Hugs to you


Kidsis said...

Lynne, thank you so much! Hugs to you and Bernie!

Kidsis said...

NN, OMG!!!! Go read this!!!!

Lessons Learned from Revenge of the Sith.

ronnie said...

Bless you.

You did everything... so right.

That's all I can say right now.

Sending love,


Kidsis said...

Thank you Ronnie.

After seeing how peaceful it was, I actually felt guilty for not doing it a few days earlier (I'm well trained at feeling guilty for just about anything). Thursday was the first time I was truly ready, and it was definitely time.

Kidsis said...

J, I'm sorry your comment didn't post. Try again?

Melody said...

I've enjoyed reading your archives and just wanted you to know your Calliope stories have touched me. What a beautiful transition you arranged for her.

Charlie said...

I had no idea about Calliope. I am so truly, deeply sorry. You took the wonderful care of her that you always do of others. No doubt Mom has put out some milk for her and elegantly shrugged her shoulders when Calliope gave her a "love offering" of a bird or mouse or something.

I feel like I've been such a bad friend to you these days. I wish I were better about reading your blog and I will definitely try to do it more often. My only excuse is that I am unaccustomed to checking anyone's blogs regularly.

Sending love and good wishes to all,