It's late. I should be in bed. I'll be there soon. Just can't stop being proud.
It took 4 emails, 3 phone calls, 3 trips to various hardware and plumbing supply stores, 2 pipe adapters, 1 wrench, 1 towel, 1 cut thumb and much determination to install the CatGenie for the impending arrival of my big sweet cat in LA. Don't laugh; a self-cleaning litter box that flushes itself down the toilet is a G-dsend, especially in a small space. I won't miss scooping and smelling the box, but mostly I'm thrilled to be spared the dust that litter dumps all over my apartment and lungs. I am Super Cat Mom.
I also assembled small furniture pieces, cleaned my apartment, finally got paid for an old job and got a new writing gig. And that's just today, just me. My sweetie got an acting gig, too. I'm so proud of her anyway, for everything, really. Pride doesn't feel like a sin today. It just feels good.
Sitting in the ER in the middle of the night, staring up at the fluorescent lighting of the exam room at this:
Not the storm clouds it felt like at first; they turned into the silver lining of the ordeal.
Hospitals, both animal and human, are not where I want to spend any time with loved ones. I have a complicated and unhappy association with them. I'm usually there for painful reasons. TV commercials would have you believe that everyone walks out of their institution with a new lease on life. Sometimes people do. I've been that lucky person before, but it's not the norm in my experience. Some things about hospitals and their environs seem universal, though: - They all smell of antiseptic and illness. - Not known for beauty lighting. - Magnets for the best and worse human impulses.
I've had the misfortune of being around them a lot lately - for my back, for my cat, and for my sweetie. Some other universalities struck me in this setting: - The power of touch to comfort. - The habit of hiding pain from our loved ones. - The terrifying vulnerability of bodies and emotions.
And lessons that keep on getting learned: - Kindness is a necessity. - The "right thing to do" is never so apparent as such. - Err on the side of Love.
Silver linings aren't cheap or easy by any measure, but they're there...
I have a penchant for goldfish. I was browsing the goldfish at my local Mom & Pop pet store when I overheard the owner and a patron discussing the new kitten someone had found. In those days, people brought neighborhood strays to Pete, the owner, and he'd get them checked out by his vet friend in New Jersey, then adopt them out of his store for $10 to cover his gas money.
He described discovering a scrawny kitten alone in the basement of the corner bodega. Apparently she was separated from or abandoned by the mother and litter and had been scratching through the food stored down there to survive. She squinted constantly, as she'd never seen the light of day before they plucked her up from the depths.
I listened intently to the tale, having lost all interest in goldfish. I had been ruminating over the possibility of getting a second cat to keep Aesop, my pound-rescue-first-cat-ever, company while I was off at work. I asked Pete if I could see the kitten.
He went down into the store's basement and emerged cradling a mass of fur in one hand. She was that small and bony and terrified. I took her into my hands and she immediately curled herself up in a ball, tucking her head into the crook of my neck, eyes jammed shut. I told Pete I'd take her, but wanted a second opinion, so I ran home and dragged my girlfriend up Amsterdam to check out this quivering feline. She fell in love instantly, too.
It was the first day of Spring 1995. This frightened little princess, who had been trapped in the Underworld, was brought up into the light, bringing with her the Vernal Equinox and a lot of sunshine into our lives. How could I _not_ name her Persephone[per-sef-uh-nee]?
Remember that Greek Myth? Persephone, the fair daughter of Demeter, Goddess of the Harvest/Earth/Grain, was out picking flowers one day when Hades, God of the Underworld, opened the Earth and swept her down into his depths to make her his Queen of the Dead. Demeter was inconsolable without her daughter by her side, and mourned angrily, wreaking Winter on the land; no one would harvest fruit or joy while Demeter was without her beloved girl. The people of the land cried out starving and Demeter pleaded with Zeus, Persephone's father, to wrest the girl from his errant brother Hades. While down in the Underworld, Persephone refused to eat but reluctantly served as the dark Queen, welcoming the newly dead below. Hades enticed her to eat some Pomegranate seeds, and she finally did. When Hermes arrived, a messenger of Zeus to return Persephone to her mother, the terrible truth that Persephone could no longer be of either world permanently, was realized. Persephone, having eaten the fruit of death, could only return to Demeter for 8 months. Because she had eaten 4 Pomegranate seeds, she had to return to the Underworld and Hades for 4 months. It is those 4 months when Demeter mourns and brings Winter upon the land, then rejoices when the Earth opens up again and delivers her daughter home, bringing Spring and blossoming anew.
My Persephone came from the bowels of New York City on the first day of Spring 1995 and left us just as Spring has sprung in 2007. She was always a scaredy cat, preferring the comfort and safety of dark places and the security of night's shadows. It took her many years to stop squinting so much in the daylight and fully enjoy the comfort of humans. She was my constant companion through illness & health and taught me patience and good cheek scratches. She's with Aesop, her true love, now. Her little brother Orpheus (whom the mythical Persephone welcomed to the Underworld) is walking around the apartment meowing at all her hiding places, confused and cranky. Her humans are doing the same.
It's been a rough week+. - My beloved theater professor Joe Patenaude died suddenly, far too young. Joe made me show up for my life and my art, no excuses, all while making me smile. - My Great Uncle Sidney died, after a long loving life. I wish I had had the priveledge of knowing him better. - My oldest cat is now seriously ill. I fear a repeat of my turtle's demise from a broken heart due to a far-away Mommy. - My Sweetie's having a tough stint at school. I wish I was there to hold her hand in person. - My health's been put the test. But when isn't it? And I'm on the other side of the country.
Good things come in torrents, too. I'm just in the middle of a terrible downpour of the painful kind at the moment. So, you'll forgive me if I haven't found something to love about L.A. this week. I'll get back on that track when the mourning is over.
Esmerelda Snyder Beloved Red Eared Slider 1994 - 2007
From Bonnie & Gay, Emerelda's original Mommies: "It was at a street fair on Broadway when I saw her, cradled in a tiny paper cup by two young boys who were holding her for ransom. I took her home and set her up in a tank which she quickly outgrew. She ate out of my hand by climbing up on rocks, although as she grew and grew I thought she might mistake my fingers for fish, and I lay the offerings of food down on the rocks instead. Then you (Dasha) kindly offered to give her a better home, deluxe real estate with spa plumbing, etc. Thanks to you. Dasha, for her care all these years."
From Dara, another turtle Mommy: "Esmie was so much more than just a turtle. She was social and interactive, fun and intriguing. I remember coming home from work when you were out and hearing her splash around until I would come in and talk to her. I remember buying her gold fish and having to place them directly in front of her or she would tear apart her tank trying to catch them until they died of starvation a week or so later. I miss her."
From Sonora, recent turtle Mommy: "I have loved her for what seems like forever. She was my favorite turtle in the world. Her favorite basking spot was the windowsill overlooking Amsterdam Avenue at 11am. She took note of each bird that flew past and each voice that spoke to her."
From Dasha, the longest Mommy: Esmerelda was a unique presence in my life. She was with me almost the entire time I've been in my current NYC apartment. I watched her grow out of many tanks, presenting me with the challenge to accommodate her comfortably for years to come. The common thinking that turtles are slow and boring was always debunked when folks met Esme. OK, she wasn't lightning fast, but she could really move in the water, and was incredibly sociable, much to everyone's surprise and delight.
In her early years, my cat Aesop would lie on top of the mesh lid to her tank and bat at the sides, while Esme would chomp at his paws at the glass, or they'd peacefully co-exist, both napping in those same positions. She was cat-television and he was turtle-playstation. They could stare at each other for hours.
Always eager for some conversation whenever I got home, she also loved to play "finger" (where she followed your finger on the glass), especially with my nieces and nephew. When planning the renovation of my apartment, I insisted we include her tank placement in the plans. My architect was skeptical at first, conceding it was important to have electrical outlets nearby, but prominent placement for a turtle? Then he met Esmerelda. She worked her charm on him, and made him a Red Eared Slider believer, her tank placed where she had a view of the kitchen, living & dining rooms for maximum sociability.
I'm proud to say that her legacy lives on, as my niece adopted a Red Eared Slider named Harry. Esme was always a hoot, but Harry had to be coaxed and nurtured out of his shell. He now swims happily in Esmerelda's old tank. Just hours after Esme passed, my niece offered: "You can always come visit Harry. I can share him with you."
I'm glad I was there (in NYC) at the end. As awful as an all-nighter at the Animal Medical Center can be, I know we did all we could for her. My sweetie thinks she died of a broken heart, with me away in L.A., that she hung on until I came back. That analysis would break my heart. Of course, it's already broken.
You were entertained, entertaining, and loved. Rest in peace, Esme.
WARNING: Technical and potentially boring post ahead!
I'm trying to idiot-proof my apartment for whomever has the pleasure of living here while I'm in LA. This is most difficult and important when it comes to my pets. My poor turle Esmerelda, who started life as a tiny drop of a reptile in a dixie cup on a Chinatown street corner (now nearly 8"), has graduated to ever-larger tanks until 2 years ago, when she took a step backward in habitat size as I moved to a small studio apartment sublet. She went from 55 rectangular gallons to 46 hexagonal gallons. For those uninitiated into aquarium geometry, the bigger a tank gets, the longer it gets, generally speaking. So, she was used to length. The hex tank gave her great depth - even standing on her tippy toes, her nose barely reached the surface. This is how I discovered that my turtle loves to dive, not just swim, but lurch into the water and splash around happily. Since the 55 gallon tank went away with my apartment renovations, Esmerelda's been stuck in tall but cramped quarters ever since. That will all change in the coming weeks.
After exhaustive research and comparison shopping (and selling off lots of old computer and electronic equipment on Craigs List in order to fund this endeavor), I settled on an All-Glass Aquarium 65 gallon tank and stand. Problem is, that's not a popular size and only 2 places on the East Coast carry it - and I was in no mood to drive out to Pittsburgh; but Copiague, Long Island? That I can handle with a ZipCar; and so I made the trek to Pets Warehouse today.
I also took the initative and designed a new ramp/basking platform for her, having it manufactured to spec at Canal Plastics, fittingly, just blocks from her original purchase in Chinatown. Picked that up today, too. Thank G-d plexi-glass is cheap!
The final technical hurdle in this habitat project is a new idiot-proof filtration system. Right now I'm using a powerful cannister filter (Fluval 304), but the priming sucks, and it's a huge pain in the ass to clean. So, emboldened by examples set by industrious and clever fellow-red-eared-slider owners, I decided to try an externally hung bio-wheel type filter - retrofitted to eliminate (or at least decrease) the waterfall effect which is bound to happen in a turtle tank. For the aquatic turtle uninitiated: Aquatic turtles need plenty of H2O to swim in and a dry refuge under full-spectrum UVA/UVB lighting and heat to dry out their shells, too. This means that the tank isn't filled all the way to the top. So, if you've got water pouring like a waterfall out of a filter, it'll have farther to fall in a turtle tank, thus splashing and making an awful racket and mess. The real virtue of this filter? It takes standard cartridges. So, whatever pet-sitter is tending Esmerelda in my stead can just pull out the old dirty cartridges and stick new clean ones in. That's it. Simple, huh? Of course there will be the occassional addition of water and the daily feeding, but that's pretty easy. Oh, and I got a timer, so the lights will go on and off automatically.
All of this will take another week+ to assemble and run before actually placing Esmerelda into her new playground. I can't wait. Neither can she - the new unassembled kit sits across from her current tank, so she swims up next it and stares intently through the glass.
I'll be passing on my hex tank on to my niece and her new smaller turtle Harry (named after Harry Potter, of course). And we'll convert Harry's current tank into a fish tank for my other niece, reusing the hood/filter combo I have from a past aquarium. My nephew already has 2 fish and 2 frogs set-up in his room, so he's good to go, pet-wise.
So, I feel virtuous in simplifying the care and nurturing of my pets and the recycling of used materials to care for my family's critters. If only I could simplify my actual pets... They're just affection whores, especailly the turtle, believe it or not. I guess we all are in this household. That'll be one of the hardest parts about LA - no pets to come home to, missing them all and our routines and cuddles. And missing the biggest cuddle of all: my girlfriend's arms.
Today I accompanied my neighbor and her cat, whom I've had the distinct pleasure of cat-sitting for a couple of years, to the vet. 13 years and cancer had taken their toll on this rambunctious guy; We were there to say goodbye. Rufus went purring in his mother's arms and I provided the tissues and a shoulder to cry on. 'Course I was a puddle, too. I only wish I could have done the same for my first cat, Aesop, who died suddenly and painfully while I was 5 minutes out in a cab rushing to his side. In a way, I feel like I got to finally send him off right by helping out Rufus and his grieving human Mom.
