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Alternate Incarnations

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Her love was of the type more quietly known than externally expressed, like a
1950’s father who knows best- the type who loves you with spankings
and admonishment, but keeps a job he hates so that you can go to
a good college and get a job you might hate and
support your own family someday.

If she were a 1950’s father, she’d have drunk heavy-bottomed
tumblers of a thick whiskey, and her stories would be told best
by the clinking ice cubes left behind.

Her love was restrained and curt, as if she were a
1950’s housewife who never left her home without a hat pinned on straight and
matching bag and shoes and when she kissed you, her lipstick
never rubbed off on you because her mouth barely grazed yours.  Her kisses
could be counted on.

If she were a 1950’s housewife, she would never add salt to your food, for
fear of the hypertension you might someday suffer from. It would be bland
food, with kind intentions. She believed in living long.

Everyone loves in a unique way. Of all the people in the world,
she chose me
to love in hers.

Goodbye, Bill

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Sigh.

I haven’t blogged in nearly two weeks because our beloved cat, Daizy William, was dying.  We had a home vet, another home vet, and finally, a three day stint in an emergency hospital.  Bill died on Saturday, March 24th, at our home in West Hollywood.  He waited until we picked him up, gave Ace one last meow goodbye in the car, then passed in her arms on our balcony (next to plants and flowers he loved) hours before we were scheduled to have him euthanized.  It was a whirlwind of supplements, medications, force-feeding, clean up, etc., leading up to that day.  Bill survived a full two and a half years with chronic renal failure as a healthy boy before getting sicker, and was one of the sweetest, most well-behaved cats I could ever hope to love.

One person in this situation who helped make it more manageable was someone we never even met, the vet who was scheduled to put Bill to sleep.  He died while I was on the phone with her asking if we could move our appointment to earlier in the afternoon.  We didn’t know how to tell if he had died, and she walked us through where to touch and check.  The vet’s name is Robin Holmes, and her business is called Gifts of Peace.  She gave us the info for the pet mortuary while on the phone, was flexible about scheduling, and had a very gentle demeanor.

The mortuary is called Guardian Animal Aftercare and they were also incredibly kind.  They picked Bill up that afternoon, and he was ready for us the following day in a lovely little cedar box with a plaque.  The man arrived at our door with a basket and blankets, giving Bill’s send off a much warmer feeling than the bag or box I was fearing they’d bring.  He was solemn and sympathetic, and the people at their office the next day were warm and understanding.

Bill’s legacy lives on in my brand’s Buffalo Bill Cowboy Kale Chips, where his face graces the label.  If you are an RnR customer, please enjoy our snacks in loving memory of him.  Bill’s easygoing nature touched everyone he met, especially those who got to watch him lounge on his back.  He had a beautiful, regal demeanor, and Ace referred to him regularly as a politician– specifically, a Republican one, given his affinity for watching Fox News with Ace’s former office mate.

Goodbye, Bill.  We know you’re still here with us, but the pain of losing you is immense nonetheless.

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