5/16/12

His cat’s name is Diamond, but she apparently likes Kitty Cat better. Most good cats earn nicknames, and Kitty Cat is a good cat. Dad got her for Mom, he says. She used to keep Mom company. They were good friends, and Kitty Cat still goes to the door and looks into the garage whenever the car comes home, because that’s where Mom would come into the house. Mom doesn’t come into the house anymore, hasn’t for several years and won’t ever again, but the cat still looks for her. Every time the door opens.

Now Kitty Cat keeps Dad company. Took her a while, but without Mom around, Dad would do. He had always fed her and kept her box clean, so he was useful. Now she watches him eat and helps him read the paper.  She is Dad’s shadow.

Kitty Cat will run and hide whenever anyone else entered the house. Shy around strangers, she would say. After a while she’ll come to investigate, but only from a distance. She prefers her own person. This morning Kitty Cat walked up to me and said hi, and then rubbed her chin against my leg. And she let me pet her. I’ve known her for ten years, and she has never before asked to be petted by me. But her bowl was getting a bit low, and I guess she figured I could be useful for such things, so I put fresh food in the bowl, and she ate.

I don’t know if Kitty Cat knows that Dad is in the hospital. I don’t know what Kitty Cat knows about anything. She’s a cat, so her thoughts are hers alone.

Every morning, Dad turns on the hose in the back of the house and fills the birdbath so the outdoor neighbors can drink. Then you get to see the quail, doves, woodpeckers as they stop by. And Dad cuts the grapefruit in half, the ones that fall from the tree unused since he no longer can eat grapefruit because they mess with his meds. The scattered halves of grapefruit on the ground feed the birds and bunnies. And the birds and bunnies feed the coyotes, for that is the way of things. Three coyotes stopped by for water the other day. There is no sign posted to keep them away, so that’s how it is. Where water is concerned in the desert, everybody shares.

So this morning I filled the birdbath and cut up some grapefruit. The job must be done. And I pulled some of the weeds from around the barrel cactus, cause Dad asked me to do that the next time I visit. And I guess you can call this a visit. And I cleaned the filter for the air conditioner, and put more slices of my meat loaf in the freezer for when he comes home and he wants one for his dinner. Then it was time to go to the hospital and see that he eats his breakfast, and ask the doctor if they know any more about Dad’s future.

I’m an optimist. Not completely without justification, because my Dad was doing really well before he fell, and he is no quitter. So I’m operating on the premise that he will come home, to his cat and his outdoor neighbors, and his future. 

But I’ve never before had to pick up Dad in my arms and carry him out to the car to deliver him to an emergency room, so my hands shake just a bit as I type this.  And I don’t know what tomorrow brings. I like things better when I know what happens next. Always hated surprise exams. No time to cram. No time to get ready. Just show up and deal with it, for that is the way of things.

 That I can do.  But it wouldn’t be my first choice.