At 4:38 am Abby (the cat) decided it was time to get up. I dragged myself up, proceeded to find the brush and give her a quick grooming (a favorite pastime for her), and then got ready to go to the gym. After making a sandwich and bagging up some chips for lunch, taking a banana, feeding the cat, watering the outdoor plants and giving Abby a little bit of half and half, I left for the gym.

Pulling into the parking lot, I noticed many fewer cars than usual. The fellow who cleans the locker room was standing outside. Then I saw familiar faces waiting around. Susie was sitting on the curb. I got out of the car and asked her how long she'd been waiting....since five, she said. We chatted about how this messes up your day and then I excused myself to go home and take a neighborhood run.

I strolled down to Main Street, then starting running toward Fairmount Park. At the intersection of Ridge Avenue, I went left up the hill. And up the hill some more. I ran down to Roxborough High, went around the school to the track in back. I joined some walkers, a jogger, and a fellow running the bleacher steps and did two laps and then continued home.

Phila International Cycling Championship

Excited that a cycling event passes through our neighborhood, we prepared to stay in this weekend to avoid problems parking upon return, and, to actually spend some time watching the event.

I strolled down to Main Street after nine this morning and had just sat down with coffee indoors facing Main Street when several police vehicles rushed through, followed by motorcycles and then a mass of cyclists. In a moment, they'd passed. I finished eating something and then took a stroll down Main and headed for Lyceum. At the turn at Levering, the women's racers ripped around the corner. I continued up Levering until the intersection with Lyceum and then continued a bit and found a place to stand, all while sweating profusely. Shortly afterwards, the mass of male cyclists passed through, albeit a bit more slowly on the hill, or, as it's called, the Wall. Most looked strong, although a few looked more like I would--showing signs of a struggle. I hung around for the women to pass by again and then strolled the five blocks or so to home to cool off a bit.

I gathered up the camera and left again. I made my way toward Main Street and, being a bit early for the next lap, found a seat on a doorstep in the shade. Struck up a conversation with someone who'd seen my water bottle with a Decatur (GA) bike shop logo and chatted about how each of us had purchased from there. Before I knew it, another lap flew by and I was only able to get a few pictures. Checking my watch, I waited for fifteen minutes, and then found a position at the turn from Main Street to Levering and parked there until the next lap. This time the pictures were much better (above). It was time to go home and cool down again.

After watching television coverage, we decided to walk down Silverwood to Levering and catch the tenth and final lap around. Revelers were all over in the street on Silverwood drinking, eating, grilling and playing mostly loud music--most of which I'd never heard before. In short order, the cyclists came up the hill, with a small group and then, about forty seconds later, the big mass of cyclists, most still looking strong going up the hill, even with over 90 degree temperatures.

A Broken Routine

The alarm hadn’t gone off yet. I was awake, planning my 6 am workout. It would be a long run on the treadmill this morning. With that, I’d have fifteen miles in this week. Good for the waistline, at least with the way that I eat--seemingly all the time.

Five o’clock and the radio starts. Rather than an alarm, I wake to NPR, a much gentler way to wake. 4:59 to be exact; that way I hear the weather and current temperature. A routine morning: drink several glasses of water, put in contact lenses, shave, brush teeth and finally, dress for the gym. Oh, and don’t forget to water the plants, since it’s Thursday.

Say my goodbyes to spouse and cat and stroll up the street to the car. I get to the car and there’s no window. Well, mostly no window. A few splintered pieces remain on the driver’s side door. I open the door to glass everywhere and all the junk from the center console strewn around the interior. My mascot, a small stuffed turtle I found in a parking lot 20 years ago was thrown outside. No respect.

I stroll back home and dial 911. The Philadelphia Police call back minutes later, commiserate, take down the information for the report. I call the auto dealer and make an appointment for the $350 dollar repair and walk back to the car with camera for pictures. Finding an old coat in the trunk, I cover the front seat and drive the car to the house, parking on the sidewalk so we can vacuum the mess out.

“You’re bleeding,” he tells me. “No, I’m not,” I say, observing the blood on my hands, pants, but no cuts anywhere. Back in the car, the fool who decided to break in left blood all over that I didn’t notice earlier. Oh, and what did he get? Besides injured, a pair of cheap sunglasses with my old office logo on them.

No run today.

Spring is on its way

Or I'm hoping to see spring soon. After a few decades in Atlanta, I'm ready to start in the garden. However, it's still a bit cool.

Sought out a nursery this weekend to help with planning the backyard. The yard is a small square space with too much cracked and messy concrete that simply has to go. And no color, making it especially drab in the winter. The other half feels that we should populate it with native plants and while I don't oppose that, it may prove difficult. The nursery didn't carry too many native plants. I stopped off at Lowe's today at lunch time and they didn't carry too many native items either.

Nevertheless, we purchased a few packs of pansies to put in the flower pots at the front door, that previously held dead, colorless plantings from the prior season. We also picked up a very bright blue ceramic bird bath now standing in the middle of the yard.

Relocation

Moving day was Tuesday. I prepared by traveling to Atlanta on Saturday and spent the rest of the day and Sunday looking through the excess of belongings with Noel and deciding what should stay and what should go to Goodwill. We filled too many trash bags with stuff. I'd always thought that we weren't avid consumers; how do we then accumulate so much stuff?

Monday was packing day. Two packers arrived at 830a and worked until 7p, with only a short break. At the end of the day, our lives were in boxes. There was no tv, no clock to tell time, no lamps (certainly none with light bulbs). By 830, we were in bed; Noel sleeping and me trying to read. After attempting to read with one eye open and not remembering all the words, I too gave in and went to sleep.

Three o'clock in the morning and we're both up. Cleaning out the refrigerator, actually throwing out the partially used containers of everything. A stick and a half of butter, wasted in the trash. Soda cans for my brother. Boca burgers for mom. Unhooked the washer, dryer, water line to the refrigerator. Pacing around the house, waiting for the movers. They finally arrived at 10a and moved everything out until 530p. I followed with broom and vacuum. Noel left after lunch with a car loaded with everything the movers wouldn't take. Mom showed up at 3p to pick me up and had to wait on the remaining chair in a VERY cold house. We checked everything multiple times to be sure nothing was left that shouldn't be there. Yes, the metal ladder that we really don't care for did go. The driver told me that Mr. Noel told her it stayed, but I told her that I think we'd better take it just in case.

Mom baked some fish and vegetables and we were off to bed by 9. I have no memories until 6 the following morning.

After a doctor's appointment with Mom in the morning, we were off to the airport. Twenty one years in Atlanta ended officially today.

Left behind are many memories. Boxes of pictures. My growing up as an adult happened there and I'll miss the memories of friends and former colleagues. I'll miss the mild winter, the great long fall season and my wonderful gardens. My mother and our wonderful neighbor. I'm glad to leave behind the virulent anti-gay attitudes, intolerant baptists and other fringe religious zealots. This is a state that wasted time, effort and tax dollars on an anti-gay marriage amendment to the state constitution. A drastic step for no purpose. After years of anti-gay resolutions, laws, disregard for gay person's rights and wills, the amendment did it to me. Too many years of paying too much in taxes for that personal abuse by the state. It's over. No more taxes to an unfriendly place.

Aftermath

I woke several times in the middle of the night. No one came to greet me when I stirred or to rub my face with hers.

When the alarm went off at 5 am, no one jumped up and began purring at me and rubbing me to welcome the new day. No one joined me in the bathroom while I shaved and got myself ready to leave for the gym.

All was quiet. There is a large void from the absence of our 10 pound feline friend. It's clear that her personality and attitude filled the rooms at the apartment. Now it seems so empty.

I'd placed newspapers around in the event she had an accident when I was away or not watching. An added benefit was that she enjoyed reclining on newspapers. Most Sundays I'd read the paper on the floor or the bed and she'd join me by settling onto the page I was most interested in at the moment. I picked all of them up and put them on the recycling pile. I cleaned up the makeshift bed that I'd put together for her near her food and water dishes. I emptied the water but haven't yet been able to empty the food dish. It remains in its usual place. Her treats on the kitchen floor that she didn't get a chance to have on Saturday are still there as well.

No one greeted me this evening upon coming home from work. No one shared morsels from my plate. Right now, it's about time to turn in for the day. If she were here, she'd be reminding me that it's time to go now.

Samantha, 1992-2008

Samantha left us this afternoon.

Saturday and Sunday night she was unable to sleep and was dragging herself around the apartment. Several times throughout the night, I woke to search for her. Found her lying in the middle of the floor and she greeted me with her questioning sound when I happened on her; found her wedged behind the computer table; found her under a chair. Each time I picked her up, I brought her to bed to rest beside me for a while. After twenty minutes or so she was off, dragging herself across the floor to another spot. She would linger in one place for five or ten minutes, then onto the next spot. Continually restless.

I passed on going to the gym this morning before work and stayed at home. I made a bed area for her on the floor with her food and water, a worn shirt of mine and Noel's, and placed a suitcase and other objects around so that she'd stay in the area and not hurt herself.

She hadn't been drinking, but with a straw she allowed me to give her a drink. She tried to eat one of her treats, but it was too difficult and she gave up.

After a tearful goodbye, I went to work. I called a friend, Kath, and left her a message that I thought Samantha was dying and I needed to talk. She called me back and my emotions got the best of me. She told me not to give up yet and that if Samantha was fighting, we should give her the best opportunity to do so. She found a vet, made an appointment for me and told me to go home and take her to the vet.

I got home and found her lying on the living room floor. She called for me when I walked into the room. She managed to get out of her padded area and crossed the living room. I picked up her weak body, laid her on a towel and took her to the car. She talked off and on the whole way. She laid on the car seat and whenever I was silent, she called for me until I told her I was there.

We found the vet's office and I carried her in--she gripping my wrist with her right paw and periodically trying to rub her nose and cheek on my hand. Patrons in the vets office were intrigued by her. "She's so good, you don't need a carrier to bring her here!"

"She's very sick," I said. "Otherwise she'd be stressed and have to be in her carrier."

The vet was very gentle, empathetic and concerned about her. Aging cats often have kidney problems, so we had blood tests run. Blood tests were normal. She suggested an x-ray to see if she had any tumors. X-rays didn't reveal anything. Perhaps she has an infection. She received an anti-inflammatory and an antibiotic and some fluids to rehydrate her.

While waiting for her, another friend, Mark, called and said that Kath let him know what was happening. We chatted about Samantha and her symptoms and in a few moments Samantha was delivered from her treatments, so I excused myself to hurry her home.

She was more alert and relaxed afterwards, although still weak. On the way home I kept my one hand on her all the way and she talked all the way home. Once I brought her in and laid her down, she fell asleep.

After a good rest this afternoon, she left us.

Thank you, Samantha, for sharing your life with us. We'll miss you.