Posts about my personal life
Yep, it was kind of embarrassing, but looking back at it now, it was also pretty damned funny. If nothing else, I’d say it’s a good sign for our marriage that we both rolled with it and could laugh about the whole thing even as it was going down.
We had such a grand ole’ time that she puked in the Uber on the way home, and then pretty much passed out on the curb outside our house.
Okay, not a big deal … yet.
Well, okay. It’s a slightly big deal. Like specifically, 150 dollar-sized deals. But whatever. I also once puked in an Uber that Melissa had called and ended up getting fined for, so now we were even.
No, the big deal arrived after I finally got her back into the house, into the bathroom, and draped over the toilet …
Aaaargh, I … can’t … very well propose on September 11. That’s so inappropriate. Is … isn’t it?
In the weeks since Marley’s death, Biscuit has been acting differently. Before, he would spend most of the day huddled quietly somewhere, but now, he paces around the house, meowing and meowing incessantly (oddly enough, just like Marley used to do). He’s much needier now, too, and actively seeks out affection from Melissa. He even rolls over on his back and lets her scratch him. This is something he never used to do.
Biscuit’s change in behavior has made us wonder if he’s sad or freaked out about Marley. Does he know what happened to him? Is that why he was howling when Marley died? When he wanders around the house now, is he looking for his brother?
That’s the kind of cat Marley was. Crotchety, moody, fickle, grumpy, emo … I’ve got an entire thesaurus of negative terms to describe his personality. That’s why he came to be known simply as #3. No name needed. Just … #3.
And here I am, incredibly bummed out that #3 is gone.
Ironic, isn’t it?
You were one crotchety little cat. And every time you wanted attention or affection from us, it had to be on your terms. But hey, we still loved you. I wonder if Mama and Biscuit will miss you, too.
Kerri and I were classmates in grad school at UCSD. She was the brilliant immunologist who aced every class and earned her PhD in molecular biology in less time than it takes most people to get a bachelor’s. I was … well, let’s just say I was the exact opposite of that. (Hey, someone has to occupy the bottom end of that bell curve.)
Kerri and I became good friends, but after she graduated, she moved across the country, and we lost touch. It wasn’t until 2009 that I found out she had moved back to San Diego years before. Over the next six years, we messaged each other sporadically, and while we both talked about meeting up for a drink sometime to catch up, neither of us really made much of an effort to follow through.
