Dru Was to the Vet Once in His Life

in like 2002. He was diagonosed with feline leukemia after a blood test and sentenced to death.

He did something magical in the vet's office though he could have fit in the palm of my hand. He did a magic disappearing act and reappeared in another room. Nobody knows how he did it. I still don't know.

He got one vaccination and I was told to bring him back to be euthanized when he got sick which was to happen shortly thereafter. That is, unless I just wanted to have it done that day. The vet actually said that. Dru was the size of a very small grapefruit. And probably weighed much less than that grapefruit.

I drove home with him and cried all afternoon while listening to that Laurie Anderson album with the Ocean song on it. "This is the ocean...so deep....so old..."

Dru went and batted at the venetian blinds and looked at me like I was retarded.

He is in his seventh year I guess. I don't even keep track anymore, and he has been the healthiest cat I ever had.

Yes, he has tiny shrunken baby teeth from his disease and nasty breath even though we used to brush his teeth (but gave up).

But he is still the healthiest cat I ever owned.

The trick is to minimize the stress. He has lived like the Romanovs (before Ekaterinburg).

And the most neurotic and nosiest and most human-imitating. He always has to eat when I eat.

And that's the only time he eats.

Solidarity.