Capt. Stuebing 1997 - 2006

On Friday we made the difficult decision to put our 9-year-old cat Capt. Stuebing to sleep. I was fortunate enough to find a veterinarian who does house calls exclusively. This allowed Stu to die at home, in comfortable, familiar and loving surroundings instead of after a car ride to a sterile, unfamiliar veterinarian's office.

You can read more about Stu's diagnosis and his story in earlier posts. I am too emotionally spent to talk any more about this, but if you have any special memories of Stu, feel free to post them.

After you, dear, I insist.

So, it's 1:30 in the morning and I'm sleepless, hot and having so-called round ligament pains which feel more like torture.

Speaking of torture, I'm watching Bob the dog and his "wife" Smuggles the cat sit nose to nose three inches from each other stalking some sort of bug on our living room floor. Now, none of them, the bug included, make any sudden moves. Bob and Smuggles eye each other as if to say "You first" ... "Oh no, you go ahead." Smuggles then tentatively paws the bug, the bug plays dead and Bob nudges it with his nose. The bug then moves a few inches and the whole process repeats itself as the trio works its way across the living room floor.

Watching this little drama is almost better than playing Solitaire.