To Bob

Everybody who ever met you, loved you. Even those who said they didn't like cats. I remember one of the most ardent cat haters, a steely Vice Chairman of a large corporation, grudgingly saying that you 'quite nice for a cat' while he scritched you behind the ears. Oh yes, everyone loved you but no-one more so than me. I remember the day I bought you home as if it was only the other day and not 1991, or was it 1992? (Forgive me, my memory fails me as in my head you have always been there). I thought I had chosen you, but of course as all good cat owners know, you had in fact, chosen me. I saw you in the pen at the shelter and I remember asking you if you wanted to come home with me. You looked straight up at me with big wide green eyes and simply said a very loud affirmative 'meow'. There was no mistaking your tone and so the following week I bought you home in a cardboard box which you fought to escape from the whole way back. You never did like enclosed spaces.

When we got home you were not so impressed at first. I lived in a first floor flat and you sat at the bottom of the stairs looking suspicious. I sat with you and stroked your head and you hit me. No claws, just a smack. This went on periodically throughout the first day with the periods of stroking getting longer. Sometime that first evening you made the decision to stay. You walked upstairs and came into the lounge. You jumped up onto the arm of the sofa next to me and looked straight at me. I looked straight into your eyes and I knew we had reached an understanding. Thank you for trusting me all these years. It is the greatest compliment to be trusted so completely.

Since that day you followed me around like a puppy, barely leaving my side when I was at home. Even when you went outside you would come back in to check I was still there. I remember you didn't like it when I left the house to go out, or when I went to bed and you would fly at my legs and hold on, sometimes gently biting my ankles or knees. I always told you I would never leave you and I always came back, but still it helped to roll some treats across the floor so that I could retire unmolested. And so our first ritual started which persisted until you left me.

We had many more rituals you and I. Ones that wove themselves into our very existence so quietly that they became natural. There was the licking of the yogurt pot. How you loved anything dairy! I told you it was not good for you but still you loved it so much that I could not deny you a little now and then (you held no truck with that cat milk junk). You would patiently wait until I had finished and then I would ask you what you wanted. You would hold up your little paw (and sometimes dance from paw to paw in excitement) and meowingly ask nicely. You also liked my shoes and at bedtime would wait by my bed for my slippers which you would then lie on and purr while demanding fuss. You would answer to your name and come running when called and knew other human words too.

We have been through a lot together you and I: 3 homes (including 1 relocation to another city), 1 career change, 3 promotions since then (me, not you), 3 relationships (not counting ours), 1 wedding and then ultimately 1 separation and divorce (again, me), 2 teeth removal operations and 2 hospital stays including renal support (you, not me), numerous illness including surgery for fibroids (twice) and my recent thyroid surgery (you were an excellent nurse), 2 post grad qualifications and 1 MBA (me, though I know you helped), 2 family bereavements (human), 1 family estrangement and countless other ups and downs. Thank you for being there and never ever judging me.

You were beautiful, you were special, you were mine and I loved you dearly. Thank you for being my friend and my constant companion all these years. It has been a privilege and I will always treasure the time we had together. You died on 5th May this year. It was windy when I took you to the vets and it seemed that it had come to carry you away. That decision was the hardest thing I have ever had to do but it was time. You were tired.I stayed with you right to the end.

Missing you old friend. Rest well.

Bobbing along

So..it's been nearly a week since I last blogged but I have a good excuse, honest. Well, actually it's not that great but it's true. Work has been a tad on the busy side and quite a big tad on the stressful side. Change has become de rigour at work but this one is particularly painful as our team is being merged with another and the culture and modus operandi is so different that it's akin to mixing oil and water. Unfortunately the new boss took a JFDI approach to managing the change and now quite a few people are demotivated and disillusioned.

On top of that it is time for the end of year appraisal and I have been trying to write mine, something I always find difficult to do. I want my achievements to be recognised but then I don't want to over do it and give the impression that I can walk on water and do a neat trick with loaves and fishes.

On top of that, I went for my blood test this week and have been informed that I need to have another one in 3 months. Why? Because they are not happy with my thyroid function. Apparently my half a thyroid has not taken over as well as hoped. I told you I felt run down didn't I? This would help explain the uncharacteristic tiredness which is accompanied with bouts of uncharacteristic grouchiness due to feeling tired and having to cope with the hoohar at work.

On top of that I have used all my spare worry time on Bob. Since he came home last week I have kept a close eye on him, but the good news is that he is doing fine on the steroids. In fact, he is quite his old self apart from being very thin (though he eats fine). I took him back to the vets today and we decided to continue with the steroids and see how he goes, though I have been warned once again that this is simply buying some quality of life time. I know this, that is why I have already researched pet cremation places nearby. I don't want to have to deal with finding things when the time comes and this also helps me mentally prepare.

The truth is we don't know how long Bob has left but we will make it as good as possible for him. Bob of course is currently sulking at me for taking him to the V.E.T.S. and he let his opinion be known by throwing up on the way home. Right now, I'm just glad he's doing well, and will take his feedback in my stride. I hope I get better feedback from work next week when I discuss my appraisal. Right now though I'm just looking forward to a nice long bank holiday weekend, with a dash of sun please if that's not too much trouble?

The cat came back

The good news is that Bob is back home! My little chap is a fighter and responded well to steroids and I was able to collect him and bring him home late yesterday afternoon. I have to continue with the steroids this week and take him back at the end of next week for another blood test. Fingers crossed that he continues to respond well to the therapy.

I have been warned by the vet that even though Bob is doing so much better, that this is most likely lymphoma and seems to be the beginning of the end. Depending on the progress of the disease, and depending on Bob, he could last a few weeks, maybe shorter, maybe longer. It's hard to tell without invasive tests that I won't put him through. So the plan is to let Bob be my guide. I will respond to his needs and as long as he has quality of life then I will do everything in my power to make sure he is spoilt rotten and comfortable.

We have been together a long time and I know Bob will let me know when it's time. At the moment he is so pleased to be home. He has barely left my side and when I passed by his bed earlier today he was purring in his sleep. I am overjoyed to have him home and so glad that I didn't choose the option that is so final (which I was under pressure to do from a number of sources).

The hardest part of all of this has been having to put up with perhaps well intentioned people imposing their feelings and values on me about how I should feel. I felt like hitting a couple of people, one in particular who told me it must be easier on me as Bob was so old (Not at all, are we less upset when a loved aged relative dies or when a young person dies or is our grief linked to our love of the individual rather than chronological age?). A couple have given me the 'mad cat lady' look (I do know that my cat is not a child, but my compassion and love for something is not limited to things with two legs only) and a couple of people have even questioned my decision to try the steroids. I pose this question to them, how about if someone gave up on you if you became very ill, just because you were old? It made me angry that I was feeling completely devastated by the news and yet it felt like I had to justify my upset. So here it is: I love my cat. We have been together a long time, we have been through a lot. Bob is one in a billion and I am making the most of whatever time we have left together.

Not just a cat

My cat Bob, the namesake of this blog, has been my constant companion for around 17 - 18 years. I can't remember exactly how long we have been together without looking at his adoption certificate as it seems like he's always been here. Ever since I bought him home and he decided he would like to stay with me we have been pretty much inseparable (excepting work for me and some naps for him).

My relationship with Bob outlasted my marriage, and in fact Bob was there letting me cry into his fur when it all went horribly wrong. He was there too recently when I had my thyroid surgery and applied the simple therapy he was so good at dispensing, a cuddle. He was also there when I went through hell and anaemia with fibroids three years ago. When I was studying for my MBA he would usually sit with me, and help by wandering across my desk, sitting on my notes and nudging me. I liked it best when he would sit on the windowsill by my right shoulder, making little kitty snoring noises. He was there too when I left the theatre and changed careers, whenI bought my first house and everything else over the years. Bob is not 'just a cat', not to me.

Bob had to go to the vets today. He's been looking very under the weather and I was worried. They kept him in to treat dehydration and do some tests. Turns out Bob most likely has cancer and it is most likely lymphoma. All the signs support the diagnosis. I have been asked to consider my options including... I can't even write it at the moment. I am waiting to see how he does overnight on the rehydration therapy. Steroids are an option but basically will only buy some time. I have been told to not expect much.

Never judge a book by it's cover

I don't usually post about things on television or in the media but a friend recently drew the following clip to my attention. It's from a reality talent show here in the UK and has been big news around the world. I thought I would post it here because, a) it's something extraordinary and b) you might be one of a handful of people around the world that hasn't seen it yet. Please click on the You Tube video link to view it before reading further:

You Tube Video

Isn't that something? I worked on Les Mis (or The Glums as it is sometimes called in The Biz) and she easily equaled anyone I saw perform the song. I especially like how she made the audience swallow their sniggers and then to be fair, I love how they gave her a standing ovation for her performance. What a wonderful example of never judging someone by their appearance!


Of course, Susan has been in the limelight ever since. So far over 110 million people have viewed her singing on You Tube and even today the press ran a 'story' where someone had manipulated an image of her to show what a makeover and a bit of cosmetic surgery could do. I don't know what you think but they seem to have made her look like Cherie Blair.

Susan herself has been resistant to a makeover but I must admit I am torn in my opinion (not that it counts as it's her choice!). On the one hand I feel that she should not give in to pressure and change her appearance to fit the accepted view of what people should look like. If she is happy as she is then good for her and tell everyone else where they can stick their mascara brush. However, on the other hand we live in the world we live in. If her dream is to be Elaine Paige (huge star of music and stage) then she perhaps needs to change a little. Showbusiness is a competitive world and sometimes talent alone is not enough. It's a shame but then we live in the world of the size zero model, augmented breasts, polished celebs, Botox, teeth whitening, liposuction, the six pack, the perfect tan, skin creams that fill in your wrinkles or make them disappear altogether, fashion maagzines, make up for the flawless finish and all the other procedures, tonics, lotions and potions that make us all a little less unique and a little more 'perfect'. Hmmm.

More Barcelona pics coming soon :)