Untitled 43 (October 2023)
“By the way dad, I’m going to visit home in October.”
“Oh, really? Hmm, what time?”
“What? Uh, no, not today. In October.”
“Yeah, but what time?”
“… … uh… Oh, um. I think on the 8th or 9th, I’m not sure yet.”
“Okay. That sounds good!”
How to get out of a car
Step 1. First, place your hands on your thighs.
Step 2. Breathe deeply. Maybe take a second or third deep breath. As many as you need before moving on to the next step.
Step 3. Place your left hand on the dashboard and your right hand on the door handle.
Step 4. Turn your torso slightly to the right.
Step 5. Open the door with your right hand and push firmly so the door is out of the way.
Step 6. Move your right hand to the right side of the door frame and your left hand to the left side of the door frame.
Step 7. Carefully lift your right foot and move it out of the car frame. Make sure you clear the footwell!
Step 8. Scoot your body more towards the right and scoot your bum a little closer to the edge of the seat.
Step 9. Lift your left foot out of the footwell and out of the door frame.
Step 10. Still firmly grasping the door frame with both hands, scoot yourself closer towards the door. You may have to do this multiple times until your feet can finally reach the floor.
Step 11. Take another deep breath.
Step 12. Now, contracting the muscles throughout your body, pull yourself upwards with your hands as you push off your legs. You may need to readjust your feet as you attempt to clear the door frame.
Step 13. When you are steady on your feet, step clear of the car door and shut firmly.
Congrats! You have finally exited the car.
It’s a perfectly warm evening.
Even though the sun has already set and it’s mid-October, it’s still a cozy 82 degrees out.
I sit on our front steps, legs stretched out in front of me, leaning back on my palms, watching as the very last strands of light are consumed by the black of the sky.
This is my favorite LA - where it’s dark out and I can lounge outdoors in a T-shirt and shorts, and yet feel perfectly comfortable, as if mother nature has wrapped me in a warm, fuzzy blanket. Time slows down during these nights. It’s still and quiet on our street and I stare at the barely visible outline of the trees and the skyline made out of my neighbors’ houses.
A small four-legged figure appears from the shadows and leisurely strolls across the street towards me.
“Hi, Neighbor Cat.”
Neighbor Cat is my neighbor’s cat.
Sorta.
He’s 12 years old and for about 6 happy years, he lived in my neighbor’s house - until she adopted a dog. Then Neighbor Cat decided that their paths had diverged and it seemed like they no longer had the same goals and values in life that they once had, so perhaps it was time for them to all live their own best lives, separately.
And so he moved out.
I think my neighbor still takes him to get his shots and vaccine appointments, and he is allowed in their house as he pleases, but most of the time, he pleases to spend as much time as possible outside.
These days he spends half his days in my parents’ yard. He’s extremely friendly - he’ll approach anyone for head scritches and if you hit just the right spot on his cheek, he’ll purr and maybe even drool a little. He’s a beautiful, hefty boy, with long gray-black-white fur and a soft, cloudy white chest. Like a Maine Coone but not quite so large. If we’re not careful with our front door, he’ll try to come into our house. It’s happened a few times. But sometimes I think about the other houses he hangs out at and I feel a little jealous. I try not to let it get to me. Neighbor Cat is a firm believer of free love and I respect that.
Neighbor Cat comes up to my hands and I indulge him in his pets. I use both hands. If I use one, he gets upset and headbutts the hand that isn’t doing work. He may even meow indignantly.
After some time, I tire and stop petting him. He allows this and saunters over to the bowl of dry cat food we leave out. Cronch cronch cronch.
The light of the sun is gone, and now there’s only the light of humans illuminating the sky. Millions of people in millions of buildings and millions of street lights, all working together to create a hazy glow on the horizon.
From the darkness comes another furry four-legged friend.
Black Cat.
Black Cat used to be Little Black Kitten but he is not so little anymore. He showed up this this spring. We’re pretty sure he’s a stray. He comes by every day and is dirty but healthy. He’s very muscular and pretty large - I’m sure he’ll get even a little bigger over the next few months. Somehow, despite being a stray, he’s very friendly. He’s been socialized somehow, or socialized himself. He comes over and, before greeting me, he approaches Neighbor Cat. They acknowledge each other by briefly touching noses. Only then does Black Cat come up to me for a quick pet, and then he plops down in front of our garden and begins to groom himself.
Little Gray Cat is not here today. She, too, is a stray, and less healthy. Her fur is a little mangy and she’s a little younger - she showed up this summer. Unlike the other two, she is skittish of humans and spends most of her time hiding under cars. But like the other two, she spends much of her time on our yard. No doubt for the free meals and relative peace she gets here. She is also respectful of Neighbor Cat and they get along well. I think it’s funny that both Black Cat and Little Gray Cat acknowledge Neighbor Cat as the King of our little street.
Little Gray Cat does not like Black Cat though. I suspect Black Cat will try to mate with her and I suspect she does not approve.
We are waiting on a cat rescue to help us trap the cats so we can get them fixed. As much as I love our little cat colony, I’d like for it to stay little.
These are the going-ons of the Le Family Cat Colony.
I saw a Reddit post recently.
Someone posted a video of a very old dog who was extremely loved by her owner. The owner would put her in a wagon and take her to beautiful hikes through the snow, the woods, the beach. The owner also had an assisted walking contraption for the dog - where the dog could have her body strapped to a metal frame with wheels so she could walk with less weight on her paws.
Most of the comments doted over the dog and praised the owner for all the efforts they went through to provide the dog with enrichment, even in her old age.
Lower, there was a thread of comments discussing the point at which the kinder option is to “put the dog down”.
One user mentioned that their dog, in its late years, started having trouble swallowing, and that’s when they decided to do it. They didn’t want their dog potentially choking to death when no one was around.
Multiple other users mentioned bladder and mobility issues. The pets were unable to either make it outside to pee, or peed without warning, or couldn’t communicate their need to pee, or couldn’t get into a comfortable position to pee properly.
Appetite issues. Apparent pain. There were many factors users discussed that played a role in their decision that the “kinder” thing was to end things now.
It’s like a recursive program or something. For q = quality of life and t = time in years, while q >= x then t+1.
As long as q is equal to or above some defined threshold x, the pet is allowed to keep living. But once q is less than x, the program terminates.
The question is, how do we define x?
