Monday, December 05, 2011

Our "Christmas Story" Adventure


Mary and I have visited two historical homes in Ohio over the years: The Thurber House in Columbus and, now, the Cleveland house used in the holiday classic film "A Christmas Story."

In both cases, things didn't exactly go according to plan.

On Sunday at 10 a.m., we showed up at the doorstep of 3159 W 11th St. in Cleveland, Ralphie's home in the beloved movie. After spying the place on the Internet, we were convinced of this sound plan: Tour the house at 10 a.m. and hit the gift shop and be on the road by 11:30 a.m. and at Quench to watch the Bears by 1 p.m.

And, much like the case of the Thurber Treat-winning Thurber house tale previously spun here, the house was not visitor-friendly upon our arrival. A sign informed us the house was closed.

But wait, the website said… We were soon joined by a couple arriving from San Diego. They, too, were under the misguided notion that the house was to open at 10 a.m.

Across the street from the house are two associated buildings: The ticket office for the house and a museum. Both locked up tight, of course. And a sign on the ticket office indicated the house did not open until 12 p.m., which would shatter our 11:30 a.m. departure.

Then, through a fence behind the museum, we could see a guy who was cleaning up after his dog in the museum's backyard. At least the dog was eager to greet us.


THIS DOG WAS EAGER TO GREET US

Maybe this groundskeeper could help us, we thought. So, we started to explain through the fence that we were confused about why the house as closed when the website indicated it would be open at 10 a.m.

"It opens at noon," he said. "Want me to prove it to you?"

He went back into the museum and returned with his Apple laptop. He had browsed to the home's website. And, even though it was a bit confusing, the house apparently did not open until noon.

Oh! Skunked again…

"Do you work here?" Mary asked, already scheming to get us in despite the noon opening.

"No," he said. "I was in the cast."

Huh? And you are…?



"Ian Petrella. I played Randy."

Flabbergasted, I murmured something about taking his picture.

"Not in my pajamas!" he said.

Yes, Randy, in his pajamas, was explaining the hours of operation of the Christmas Story house. Wrap your head around that one…



So Randy, I mean, Ian, went in to change and came back with autograph pictures for us and the San Diego couple. He was a real nice guy. He was in town for personal appearances during the home's busy season. And he had a great dog.

I took some pics of him, the house, and even shot an image of the interior through the front window.


THIS PICTURE SHOT THROUGH THE LAMP LEG WINDOW
And soon we were off.

We HAD to get back for the Bears game.

The Chicago Bears. Terrors of the midway. More like the Chicago Chipmunks, if you ask me…

More later,


Mark

Wednesday, November 02, 2011

Mom and Dad Visit!

My Mom and Dad are in town enjoying Indian Summer in beautiful Northeast Ohio. They arrived on Allegiant Air Sunday - three hours late. The barbecue slow cooked all day and made an ideal midnight snack, however.

Since they love cold rain AND Halloween so much, Monday's trick-or-treating was a rare treat. Here they are enjoying the great outdoors in our new pop-up tent that can be set up by two men in two minutes provided the two men are not me and my Dad.



In our defense, it took 30 minutes before we realized this was an 8-by-10-foot version (every other one I have bought was square) and there WAS a wrong way to put the top on...

Tuesday they toured Mill Creek Park with Mary and we all met up for a night on the town when I got off of work. Here we all are enjoying drinks at The Quench bar.



Santa made a surprise appearance Tuesday night and Mom and Dad were gifted with a family portrait by the talented Tom Wills, a co-worker at The Vindicator. Tom does amazing work and he can be found here: Tom Wills Productions



The star of the visit was Pal Joey. Of course, Sammy is always cute with company but this was the first time since Joey arrived that we have had guests and Joey cuddled up to the parents. Here he is with Dad:



And, of course, with Mom, who I believe adopted Joey as a new grandson:



Of course they had to contend with the ongoing construction project: Workers arriving and/or not arriving or showing up during dinner... My Dad was a great help as we picked out the appliances and he kept watch over the workers. My Mom tried to reassure me that this project will indeed someday be over. I will share some updated pictures of the house later this week.

It was great as always to see them! We had a terrific time!

More later,


Mark

Tuesday, October 11, 2011

Sweetness

Did you ever open up a package, confident of the contents, only to be stunned?

I mean really, really, jaw-droppingly, life-in-slow-motioned stunned?

My MacBook Pro has eaten another battery so I ordered a new one of uncertain Asian origin on eBay last week. I arrived home tonight to find one of those oversized postal envelopes hanging out of the mailbox, which is a sure sign I'd be able to untether my Mac from an extension cord for more than 10 minutes by nightfall.

I threw the mailer with its brick-like contents onto my chair as I set to my nightly coming home ritual: free the cats from their holding pen (alas, construction continues), pick out tomorrow's wardrobe, change into shorts, arrange vitamins for the evening/morning doses, fill a giant glass with ice water, provide Sammy and Pal Joey treats to compensate for Mary not freeing them during her between-jobs break and then get to the mail.

Opening the mailer, I was, for lack of a better word (hence it's third use), stunned.

It was a copy of "Sweetness," the controversial, new Jeff Pearlman book about Walter Payton.



Now, I had just ordered a copy for my iPad, though I haven't gotten to it yet as I am engrossed in the new Christopher Hitchens collection, "Arguably."

My first thought: Did Amazon screw up somehow?

The return address, however, was revealing: It was from Jeff Pearlman!

I'd been found...

Now, when the book came out, Pearlman authored a blog that, frankly, I did not take kindly to. It was titled, "The Truth," and it was a plea, or as I called it, a "pity party" that fans read the entire book before judging it's merit. Most fans, me included, had only read the salacious details (drug addiction, depression, affairs, etc.) contained either in the Sports Illustrated cover story or in even more brief wire accounts of the Sports Illustrated story.

Pearlman wrote in part:

"I don’t care how you read Sweetness, but if you’re someone screaming and yelling, “How dare you! How dare you!” I encourage you to take in 460 pages, not seven. Go through the Columbia, Mississippi years; the Jackson State years; the down days in Chicago, when the Bears were a joke and Walter Payton was the only beacon of hope. If, after you’ve done that, you still think the book was a hit job, call me."


I pounded Pearlman in Twitter and in comments on his blog (which I signed). The argument that I posted:

"Uhm, the points in total are understood BUT Sports Illustrated obviously did not, either, choose to republish the entirety of the 460 pages. So, the most salacious accounts are republished, instead. Does THAT paint a full, fair picture of the entirety of the book? No. Hence your pity party here is, at best, odd. You accept the juicy morsels being spewed out there to juice the sale of your book, then cry that fans are not judging the entirety of your work. It seems to me that when bits and pieces are chosen that benefit your book’s sales, you are totally on board. Hmmm…"

After that, I moved on, but not before I Tweeted that I would probably read the book, which I bought last week, downloaded to my iPad and was next on my reading agenda.

Which brings us to today and this envelope with a book and a note…

Essentially, Jeff Pearlman tracked me down, found my blog and is probably penning my bio as I type this. I made that very last part up, but he did enjoy my blog and apparently read quite a lot of it. He even gave a shout-out to Pal Joey.

He then wrote, "Clearly, you don't like my reason or the idea of the Payton biography. However, I'm including a copy with the hope you at least read the first few chapters and see where I was heading."

He ended with a funny P.S.: "Feel free to keep ripping me. It's certainly NOT against the rules."

It was a very classy gesture, except that he also inscribed the book and now I can't re-gift it to my brother for Christmas and now I am stuck with two copies.

Just kidding: My struggle with classiness continues, as you can see.

I think, however, he misunderstood my original stance. I am not so much opposed to the idea of the Payton biography. I was opposed to the author/publisher/SI scheme to reduce it all to a series of agonizing bytes that inflicted pain on Walter's legacy, his family and his fans.

I cried the day Walter died. I own one of the last balls he ever signed which was a Christmas gift from my wife (and the fifth autograph of his added to my collection). Since he was a human, I presumed he had imperfect human qualities. However, nothing could or will ever impact my admiration for the man and his abilities and they way he faced life on and off of the field.

So, my feelings for Walter are very personal. And as I watched the digesting of the most salacious biography morsels and saw them spewed into the Internet and onto the airwaves to become fodder for those who did not love Walter, I took it very personally.

I've struggled for a way to convey this honestly in a way that might make some sense. This is the best I could come up with: Jeff, you know that wacky story that could be on the news tomorrow about the forgetful elderly lady who accidentally hits the gas instead of the breaks on her Buick speeding it into the doughnut shop, killing herself and crushing the cop? Well, as wacky as that might play on the cable news shows and on the Internet, there's still the reality that that woman was a mother and grandmother. And she had children and grandchildren. And her family loved her and as ironic and goofy a way that her life ended, that amounts to 1/100,000,000,000,000,000th of the life she lived on this planet. So what might seem like wacky fodder for many will be viewed very differently and very personally by those who actually knew her and loved her.

And that view will not be the view of the dispassionate journalist.

On top of that, I have grown very weary of biographies in general. Want me to sum up all biographies? Here: The person was born. He/she had unusual traits. Something remarkable happened. Here's what really happened as told after the fact. Maybe something remarkable happened again. Was it really remarkable? Then something bad happened. He/she had unusual habits. Here's what some people thought about those habits after the fact. The fall from grace continues augmented by revelations of those habits/traits. Now comes perseverance. Redemption! Then the person dies. Some people feel bad about the death. Is there a lesson here? The end.

We all, every one of us, has a habit or trait or personal affliction that any number of other people will find unusual - or at least claim they find unusual so that they can also claim to be more "normal" which is a state of existence that does not exist. I find those traits that we have in common are far more important that any differences we have as are share in this human condition. But there are lots of differences and some people can seize upon them for all sorts of agendas.

That said, I am stunned (four times!) by your kindness and generosity, Jeff. And so, writer-to-writer, I wanted to share this space to tell this story. As intended, I will read your book. And I will honestly review "Sweetness" in this space.

More later,

Mark

P.S. If I outlive Pearlman, I am writing his biography. I called dibs ...

Thursday, September 08, 2011

It's Starting To Look Like a Home!

We came home from work Wednesday to discover that siding has gone up on our new addition under construction for Mary's mom.

Suddenly, it looks more like a home!



Now, there re a lot of finishing touches needed inside and out, but as you can see, the construction crew has made great strides in the couple of weeks since we got home from Florida. The front door leading to the kitchen and living area is even on! What's amazing is how big this looks out back...



Looking from the back to the original house from the addition, you can see how they are working to fit the design to conform to our home's architecture.



The addition as seen from the other side of the deck and patio. The upstairs part of the addition will expand our master bedroom by another 300 square feet...

The crew is working hard to get the project done in the next two weeks! Gas and electric has been extended to the addition, which will feature a kitchen/living area, bedroom, bathroom and even laundry facilities.

More later,


Mark

Monday, August 22, 2011

Our Beloved Louie



Louis J. Cat, our beloved Louie, 17, died suddenly today from complications caused by congestive heart failure.

He was a loving member of our family from the moment he was adopted in 2003. He was known for snuggling and voracious treat eating.



He lost his brother, 'Tude, in 2006, also to heart complications. Since then he moved with us to Florida, where he met his new brother Clyde, and then to Ohio, where he gained new brothers Sammy and, more recently, Pal Joey.

After his adopted brother Clyde passed in July, Louie began to mourn and never really recovered.

He will be greatly missed, never forgotten and always loved.


Mark & Mary




Tuesday, August 16, 2011

14 Years Ago Today...



...I married the most spectacular woman in the world.

And Elvis was there, despite his "death" some 20 years earlier...

Happy Anniversary, honey!

Mark

Sunday, August 07, 2011

Update on Grace's New Home

Work has been continuing these past two weeks on the addition to our home, the future home of Mary's mom Grace.

It has been amazing to watch the progress. This is no small feat!

More than a week ago, the walls went up and the doorway was roughed out. Mary peers in through her mom's new front door here:


HI MARY!

Looking back from the backyard toward the door:


AWESOME VIEW!

Last week, work got underway in the area above Grace's place, which will extend our bedroom out a bit.


ESSENTIALLY, MARY'S FUTURE CLOSET.

This past weekend, workers began work on Grace's new roof ...


REALLY TAKING SHAPE.

The addition is moving along at a pretty swift pace. We are on target toward our fall completion which will mean Grace will be living here this winter.

More later,

Mark

Friday, August 05, 2011

Follow Me HERE!

Hey Chicago Bears fans:

Follow me as I document Richard Dent's induction into the Pro Football Hall of Fame here:

Richard Dent @DENTHOF

More later,


Mark

Sunday, July 24, 2011

A New Addition (and it's NOT a cat this time!)

So, as if we needed a theme, it turns out, 2011 is the summer of change...

Keeping up with that theme is the little project we have going on in the backyard.

Mary's mom, Grace, is making the biggest move since she left her native Italy and came to the United States: She's leaving Corning, N.Y. and moving in with us in beautiful Ohio.

The only hitch: She wanted her own space. Hence, the big project that has taken over our backyard.

Now, when many of you last saw our backyard, it was last summer when we added the gazebo and the landscaping. I posted a bunch of picture here. It sure was peaceful looking...



Note the balcony back there and all of the trees...

One year later and the trees look a little different...



Yikes. Well, one we did that, that beautiful cedar siding and deck just had to go...



Done and done. So, let the excavation begin!



It was at this point that I called up those peaceful images from last year. And cried. That did not deter the workers who began to build the foundation of the new in-law apartment...



After some Thursday/Friday/Saturday work, you can see the addition really beginning to take shape...



A bonus to the project is that our master bedroom is going to extend 12 feet which will allow us to actually make it into a modern master bedroom with a modern master bathroom, someday. Plus we are expanding the electrical box which will greenlight the future kitchen remodel...

The backdoor to the addition will actually incorporate some unused space in our lower level that will become a storage room for Grace. When complete she'll have a bedroom, back/walk-in shower, kitchen/living area and even her own laundry facilities.

As the six-week construction schedule goes on, the cats and Mary and I are holding up pretty well, although we are longing for the days of normal and peaceful again. When it is done, Grace will have an awesome place to call her own. In the meantime, I will continue to share pictures...

More later,


Mark

Monday, July 18, 2011

Pal Joey's Official Portrait



OK, it's been a little cat-obsessive here as of late, I admit. But, here is Pal Joey's official portrait. Come on. Admit it: He's a handsome cat!

And if the Bear's season never starts, you can expect a lot more like this...

More later,


Mark

Pal Joey's First Night


PAL JOEY REACHES OUT

Well, he survived his first night!

Pal Joey and I bunked last night as he continues to get used to his new surroundings. He has quite the purr! He is just such a loving little guy...

Lots of head butts and petting last night. He slept right next to me and even on me at one point.

By morning, he no longer scurried under the bed whenever Mary or I came into the room. He was a little concerned about the noise Sammy was making down the hall as he was being locked into the master bedroom, a new procedure during the in-law suite addition work. But he now peeks out from under the bed when called, so we're making process...

Speaking of the in-law suite project, I have pictures! I will share them later tonight.

Also, I have updated the look of the long-ignored blog... More changes are coming.

More later,

Mark

Sunday, July 17, 2011

Meet our Pal Joey!


OUR NEW PAL, JOEY

So, we are fairing pretty well, two weeks after Clyde's passing.

Clyde was such an integral part of our home, his sudden death from cancer at such a young age left many voids.

We were devastated, but so were the other cats.

Louie stopped eating during Clyde's last week. This was his second brother to die in his 17 years and he took it pretty hard. He spent much of the last days sitting quietly at Clyde's side. Louie is our cuddlier.

Sammy is just too young to really understand much of what's going on, other than his running buddy is gone. He now fetches his toy mice, bringing them to me for me to throw across the room. He still resents that old man Louie does not play with him like Clyde did. He's just out of sorts. Plus, he has no idea why Louie is trying to sleep next to him all of the time. He finds that annoying.

Now, we had decided not to bring another cat into the house until after our August vacation. Emotionally, we were drained. But it was clear that Sammy needed a playmate and Louie needed a new cuddlier.

Enter, our new Pal Joey.

Mary found him first, under his old name, "Patch." She was searching for Maine Coons - like Clyde and the late, great Ditka - which are great cats for cuddling and playing. Really, we can't imagine our house without a Maine Coon.

Here is how a website described his incredible rescue tale:

Patch Adams is a beautiful, sweet boy, with soulful eyes. This Maine Coon mix was abandoned at some point in his life, and was humanely trapped and removed from a low income housing development as a "raggedy nuisance cat." When brought in to the shelter for euthanasia, we realized that this rough looking cat with the beautiful face and eyes was not a feral cat. Patch had been merely coping in this strange world by going into "survival mode" those many months or years that he was forced to live outside as an abandoned pet. He was filthy, and had an enormous swath of hair down the center of his back that was matted tightly to his skin. We had to shave that off right away, and he has since been properly groomed, as you can see in his first photo. The last photo was taken within days of his arrival where it appears that other matted areas must have peeled off earlier, as hair was growing back. Poor Patch must have been quite cold out there all winter, the coldest winter yet in this part of Ohio!
Patch is not an aggressive cat and gets along quite well with the other foster cats and kittens in his foster home. He absolutely LOVES to play with the 10 week old kittens, and enjoys grooming them when they stop to snuggle with him. He makes happy, chirruppy noises when he is playing, which puts a smile on everyone's face.

Most visitors find Patch to be irresistible, and he has melted the hearts of the staunchest dog lovers when he stretches a paw up towards them, searching their face with those big, beautiful green eyes. Although he likes to look out the window now and then, he is not interested in returning to life outside. Patch is such a likeable fellow that you will find yourself wondering "Who could have abandoned such a sweet boy?" We are anxious to see him once his hair has all grown back in. He is going to be gorgeous! Of course, by then we expect he should be living in his new home.

Patch Adams has been tested for Feline AIDS and Feline Leukemia, is up to date on vaccinations, dewormer, flea treatment, has been neutered and microchipped.


Mary found this tale online first, but was not sure if I as ready for a new cat so soon, especially since Clyde was my cat (he had actually picked me). I happened across this story at work while researching a story that is running in Monday's paper about the fantastic Angels for Animals shelter. When I casually mentioned Patch's story in passing, Mary was elated and confessed she really wanted to check him out.

It seemed like fate.

So, we contacted Brenda, the wonderful person providing the foster home for Patch and net with her Sunday. We ended up taking him home! The speed of all of this surprised us, too!

We cleared out the Elvis bedroom and that will be his temporary home for a few days as he becomes acclimated to our household. Louie and Sammy saw him come home. Some hisses were exchanged (not from Louie) and he entered the bedroom and immediately went under the bed. We coaxed him out with a little milk.

By late in the afternoon, after his new name of "Pal Joey" was selected, he was purring up a storm and enjoying lots of attention. He has such a wonderful personality! He's about 5 years old and he does seem like a Clyde/Ditka combo, although that is a lot of pressure to put on him on his first day here… His brothers have spent some time outside his door, trying to figure out exactly what's going on…

We'll keep everyone posted on how this all works out…

More later,


Mark

Friday, July 01, 2011

Our buddy Clyde 2007-2011


CLYDE AND ME FROM THIS WEEK


Clyde passed peacefully at 8:15 a.m. this morning.

We would like to thank everyone for the kind words and thoughts during these past two weeks.


Mark and Mary

Sunday, June 26, 2011

Clyde and the Great Outdoors


CLYDE ON MY LAP OUTSIDE SUNDAY NIGHT


Clyde our cat continues to have good days and bad days.

Today was a good day, and so he decided to go for a walk.

In the teeter-totter between lymphoma and the steroid therapy, Clyde, our 5-year-old cat, has days that convince us we are really going to make that final trip to the vet and other days when we could swear there is little wrong.

Like today. We have been coaxing him to keep his strength up by alternating water and milk and small meals of chicken and cat treats.

When Clyde feels up to it, he takes in each in small quantities and you can usually see him perk up. Always present is his 2000 decibel purr…

Sunday, Mary and I spent the evening out collecting party supplies or our Fourth of July celebration (i.e. couponing at Phantom Fireworks) and came home for dinner out back under our gazebo. It was a beautiful night and Mary headed in for a bit to check on Clyde.

She came back and we birdwatched and rabbitwatched and soon I headed in and was shocked at who was greeting me inside the sliding door that leads into the house.

Clyde.

Mary had left the door to our bedroom open and, somehow, Clyde had made it down the stairs from our second floor and was looking up at me through the sliding door. Now, two weeks ago, this would have been completely normal. In the new normal, it was completely jarring.

And a really pleasant surprise.

Our cats are all indoor cats. They never get to go outside and, frankly, as much as they enjoy looking out the windows, open doors scare them. But Clyde really looked like he wanted to join us outside.

What the hell, I figured. An adventure of a lifetime.

So, I picked him up and he spent 20 minutes on my lap, watching the birds, enjoying the breeze and cocking his ears at every sound. It was as much of a treat for me as it was for him. Soon, he got restless.

Even a bit weaker as he is these days, he was determined to get down to explore. I didn't want to risk any more adventure than he could handle and so back we went inside where his brother Louie wanted to hang with him in the bedroom.

It was a remarkable event as we end Day 10 of this chapter that challenges cat and owners alike. Clyde may not have very many adventures left to share, but I would not count him out just yet…

More later,


Mark

Thursday, June 23, 2011

A Short Update on Clyde


ME AND CLYDE LAST NIGHT



After deciding that we would take no extreme measures in confronting the lymphoma that Clyde is battling, we sought measures to provide for his comfort.

Clyde had eaten very little from last Thursday through Monday. To boost his appetite and help his body heal from all of the recent trauma, his vet put him on a steroid. As a result, Clyde has regained some strength and is very alert. He is eating, grooming, using the litterbox. He wants to be in bed with us, per usual.

He had been spending all of his time in recent days on the floor.

Now, he is still weak and his mobility has begun to fail. He tires easily. He sleeps a lot. But he is not suffering and, in fact, is showing many of the old signs of Clyde that have been absent since he was rushed to the emergency vet last Thursday and placed on oxygen.

As anyone who's ever taken steroids for therapeutic purposes knows, there is a law of diminishing returns, here. At first you feel like Superman and then there is the gradual return to reality.

Steroids don't cure cancer.

But as long as Clyde is in there fighting, we'll be right beside him. His appetite has returned and that is amazing given where were we Sunday night and Monday when we were saying our goodbyes.

Also, Clyde is kind of being Clyde again. He has a few annoying attention-getters that he would employ in the wee hours to wake us for the morning feeding. He would paw loudly at the air grate in the floor. He would walk on us. He would sharpen his claws on the box spring under the bed.

This morning, he was scratching away at the box spring just like he would have done a week ago before all of this madness began. It reverberates in the bedroom and makes a loud rat-a-tat which wakes us.

It did. And this time we laughed. We haven't been doing a lot of laughing lately. He greedily ate his breakfast.

Thanks to all for your warm comments and prayers and other kindnesses. We truly appreciate the support. We know this ends sooner than we want but knowing that so many people out there are pulling for Clyde makes this whole episode a little easier to bear.

More later,


Mark

Monday, June 20, 2011

Clyde



There are many parts to the silent covenant that is agreed to when a pet and an owner bond.

The owner agrees to love, feed, groom, clean, care, entertain and indulge.

The pet agrees to accept.

In actuality, the pet reciprocates in ways large and small. He's there to amaze with tricks, endure one-sided conversations, demand attention at the most inopportune times and always look at his owner enduringly no matter the owner's mood or worthiness.

Life's demands can make bad pet owners out of the best of us. Recently, Clyde the cat had taken to climbing up on my lap and situating his big, hairy beast body between me and my omnipresent laptop.

He would look at me adoringly with those big green eyes, rumble his 2000 decibel purr and demand my attention.

Even if I was annoyed, how could I resist?

In our relationship, Clyde actually picked me.

Mary and I had visited the Brevard County Animal Shelter during Adopt-A-Cat Week in June 2007. That place was a mess: It smelled, it was noisy and most of the animals had some sort of kennel cough.

We had been through the aisles a few times before I spied Clyde in his cage. He was a brown-striped Maine Coon, which was exactly what we were looking for. He was a bargain at $29.

I picked him up from the cage and he dug into my chest, burrowed into me and clung tight. At that precise moment, a loud dog barked and I could feel him tighten. He looked up at me as if to say, "Pay them the $29. Get me the hell out of here. Leave me in the bushes out front, I do not care. Just get me out of this place."

The shelter folks told us they thought Clyde was 2 years old. Our vet later confirmed he was probably closer to six months old. We first bonded in the guest bathroom where he spent much of his first month, quarantined from Louis J. Cat, first because of a bad cold, then because of conjunctivitis, then because he had passed his bad cold and conjunctivitis to Louie as they sniffed and pawed each other under the bathroom door

Our $29 adoption ended up costing us $1,000 between the two cats.

But in that bathroom, Clyde was king. It was much bigger than the cage. He had a lot of new toys. He loved the running water. Really, is a weird way, he was very content. Then, when we we turned him loose into the totality of our Florida condo, Clyde thought he was king of the world.

Such a loving cat. He was a non-stop purring wonder. Even when he acted up – roughhousing too much or annoying his brothers Louie or Sammy – when you yelled at him and approached him, he would immediately fall prone into a submissive position and then purr. All 2000 decibels.

He enjoyed life. Clyde loved to patrol the house, loved to watch birds and squirrels from his various perches, loved chasing treats. When Mary got the grooming brush out, he was in heaven.

Our cats trained us to observe and respect "Treat Time." When I came home from work, the cats would wait for me to change and then follow me downstairs and line up for the treat ceremony which always began with me asking "Who was the best kitty of the day?" Clyde would also get up on two legs, put his front paws on my knee as if to say "Me!"

Every night. Without fail.

This was life as we knew it through last Tuesday. On Wednesday, Clyde seemed off. He didn't finish his treats during the second "Treat Time," the nightly toll I paid to go to bed. I couldn't sleep and went looking for him in the middle of the night and found him sitting on the carpet in the basement. I picked him up and he just wanted down and to be left alone.

Very un-Clyde-like.

I got home from work Thursday night and he was hiding in the sub basement. I could tell he was either in a lot of pain or having trouble breathing. I rushed him to the after-hours animal hospital and they told me, "You got him here just in time. We had to put him on oxygen."

From that moment, normal ceased to exist.

They removed 300cc's of liquid from his chest cavity; liquid that threatened to suffocate him. Another vet visit and more tests came Friday. We were promised results Saturday that never came and Clyde spent the weekend on the bedroom floor. Drinking, but not eating. Listless.

The change from just days before was and remains impossible to for us to comprehend. The once-healthy, active Clyde now was content to lay on the floor and sleep. And purr.

To say we were unprepared for this turn of events is to belabor the obvious. We are not cat novices. Thurber the cat lived to 20. The beloved Ditka made 19. Even 'Tude with the bad heart made it to lucky 13.

Clyde is barely 5.

The call came Monday morning and I made a token effort to complain to the vet that we would have appreciated a call Saturday, if only to say the results were not back yet. In truth, in the quiet of the night as I type the truth and brush back a few tears, he could have kept his damned, inevitable truth for a few more days.

The truth is that Clyde suffers from a lymphoma. It's affecting the chest area and has infected his lymph nodes.

Cancer. How common is it for a 5-year-old cat to have cancer, I asked.

"It's almost unheard of," the doctor said, clear resignation in his voice. He listed the obligatory medical calculations: Akron specialists, chemo, a chest tube. In any case, we are talking days or months. And, no matter the choice, all that lies ahead are pain and confusion for a cat who's only life expectations are to watch birds, chase treats and wrestle with his brother Sammy.

We had all planned for him to do that for another decade or so …

So, the other part of that covenant – the part I purposely did not mention at the top – sweeps upon us at this moment. As pet owners we also agree that when a beloved pet gets to this point, that no matter the selfish interest in keeping them at our side, that we agree to help them face the end in the most humane and respectful way possible.

That's far easier to type than it is to face. This is killing us. But we cannot allow Clyde to suffer much more. And so Mary and I sit together and we cry and we curse the unfairness. And we laugh at the stories and we are grateful for the pure joy that Clyde brought to our home.

And we know what we must do.

To be continued…


Mark

Monday, January 24, 2011

TONIGHT'S SPECIAL COMMENT: "Words"

Keith Olbermann has the night off.
As promised earlier, here is tonight's Special Comment on words:

All this backtracking today about Jay Cutler's heart and/or toughness would not be necessary if folks on Twitter, Facebook, et al, all had editors.
Hi. I'm Mark. I'm an editor.
We live in an age of social media, I am told. And so now everyone can "publish" whatever fool thing pops into their heads and they can spew it all over everyone everywhere all of the time.
They do so because they can. What they should be considering is whether they should.
And this is not aimed just at the Cutler haters out there. We see this from all sorts of amateur communicators. Take Sarah Palin, please. You know the type: They use "targets" and talk about "reloading" and all sorts of colorful imagery to influence you.
And then you call them on their invective. And they squirm.
God help me, I love the squirm. It arouses me.
A relative forwards a crazy e-mail about President Obama. You call him on it. Send him to Snopes.com. He writes back, squirming.
The ill-informed spew their ill-informed bile on a newspaper website. You call them on it. They squirm.
(My favorite squirm line? "Well, I am not a professional like you..." As if that is excuse enough to lie or spread unfounded rumors.)
A person on Twitter gets caught up in the heat of a moment and fires off a shot about, oh, I dunno, say, Jay Cutler. You call her on it. Strained logic and denials is the reply. Her followers attack you. And late at night, those Tweets are quietly scrubbed away.
Arousal.
See, in the newsroom, what an editor does much of the time is to edit stories. We work with reporters to make sure what is reported is fair, or as fair as it can be. It is not a perfect science. But rarely, even in this Internet age, are all stories spewed out immediately from brain to computer to audience without editing.
They are vetted. Vetting takes time. Time equals thoughtful consideration.
Can we? Sure. Should we? Let's discuss. What are the ramifications?
What many amateur communicators share in this Internet age is a queer quackery about the impact of their words.
Palin last week argued simultaneously that her own words had no influence but that the words of others aimed at her had much influence.
Huh?
People, especially politicians, choose words carefully. As social animals in a social media age, we all practice the art of influence. We choose words to influence other social animals.
Yet when you corner amateur communicators, especially politicians, with an unfortunate choice of words, they will likely tell you their words have no influence whatsoever.
Until the next time they want to influence you on "Obamacare" or "death panels" or the "death tax."
Trust me, as someone who has studied and used words all of his life, words have meaning.
And with that meaning comes accountability.
So often, when I confront an amateur communicator blathering some nonsense, I will get a defensive response like: "I am entitled to ReTweet and Tweet whatever I please."
Feel free. But remember, there's a covenant shared between us social animals: You put it out there, we get to hold you accountable.
So, when you call Jay Cutler a quitter, or you ReTweet someone calling him a quitter or you agree with someone calling him a quitter, you are responsible for those words.
And you should expect someone like me to call you on it.
Because, that's the other thing amateur communicators ought to learn from a crusty old pro like me: There is no hiding from the responsibility of words.
That's why editors spend hours editing reporters. You see, when those words are published, we understand there is an audience at the other end. And that audience – your customers – are likely to pounce on you if you are not careful or responsible or truthful or accurate.
The same goes for you and your Tweets.
So, my friends in Twitterland, be responsible. Understand that the Internet is a powerful way to spread your words. Therefore, as Peter Parker learned, "With great power comes great responsibility."
Words influence. Words hurt. Words can build up. Words can tear down.
Words are powerful and we are all – every single one of us – responsible for what we say.
I hope the wildly inaccurate, hurtful, mean-spirited attacks on Jay Cutler in the aftermath of Sunday's Chicago Bears loss represents a watershed moment when many people paused to consider the impact of their words.
Jay is not a quitter. Those who characterized him as such did, for a time, quit their sensibilities.
I hope they've gotten them back. And learned a lesson.
If not, I am out there. I will find you. I will make you squirm.

More later,


Mark
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