Hard Christmas

I'm sitting in the basement of my house on Christmas eve afternoon. My wife is asleep upstairs. She needs a nap because she was awake for much of last night trying to find one of her cats.

This cat had surgery earlier in the week for removal of kidney stones, an operation that cost about $1000. Not any king's ransom to be sure, but for us it was a pretty big bite into the credit card. Wednesday night after bringing the feline back home, Kris tried to shut it up in a guest bedroom so it could recuperate in peace. Unluckily (and my wife doesn't have much good luck) she didn't get the bedroom door completely shut, so during the night the cat absconded and is now hiding somewhere in the rafters between floors in our house.

We've tried to lure the cat with the smelliest food we can think of - tuna fish - but so far it has not emerged for anything in about forty-eight hours, not even to empty its bladder or colon. (I hope not. I don't want animal waste lingering up there.)

So we don't know if the cat is healing or is in trouble, or even has died. In the worst case, we would have to guess where the corpse is and cut through the drywall to remove it. I can tell you I would not enjoy doing that. Not to mention the thought of $1000 spent to prolong the cat's life for three days.

Then, thinking we'd make our Christmas calls to relatives before Christmas day, we telephoned my middle sister (I have three) this morning. She has been afflicted with a dementia for the last few years and it has become gradually more difficult to communicate with her. This morning was the worst yet, however. She couldn't complete a thought or even a sentence and seemed utterly unable to understand me. This is my younger sister, to whom I was a tyrannical big brother when we were kids, but whom I love dearly now. In addition to the hurt caused by hearing her stumble so badly through our brief talk, there of course is the little voice in the back of my head that says, "If it's happening to her, it could happen to you, and soon."

Meanwhile, Kris is not doing the baking she meant to do this afternoon. My wife cannot easily leave intended chores undone, so I'm guessing she'll be baking well into the evening, which effectively blasts my plans for a quiet night before the fireplace watching "It's a Wonderful Life" on DVD with her. And yes, I know how to bake and could do it myself, but she has her heart set on doing this herself and won't be dissuaded.

So, not having much to do a few minutes ago, I tried to load the DVD player with a disc we borrowed from the local public library. And the player jammed. Not only could I not get it to play, it would not eject. All I could think was how much I really did not want to spend the afternoon taking the machine apart to get the disc out. It was really just the bottom for me, the proverbial straw that broke the proverbial back. I turned the player off and sulked for a few minutes, then, almost whimsically turned it back on. Wonder of wonders, it worked! My belief in the holistic theory of appliance repair finally paid off!

And so, brothers and sisters, daughters and sons, and good friends all, there is hope in the world. I am revived, and ready to face the rest of the day with good grace and cheer. I'd be a lot cheerier, though, if that damn cat put in a appearance.