My oldest cat, "Hello Newman" has been with me for at least ten years. A handsome tuxedo male, he came to me via my late, dear friend, Dave Shiels. Dave already had a cat, Vinnie, who was violently protective of Dave. So, I went into his back yard to take a look at this cat whom he'd found on the street and was begging for me to take. It was dark, so I couldn't see much, but I agreed.

Hello Newman is a beautiful, loving, dignified cat.  He's probably about fourteen at this point, and has dropped from his prime weight of 16 pounds to a mere 11 pounds.  To help him keep his weight up, I feed him cans of Fancy Feast as often as he asks for it, to supplement his Science Diet.  He's also on supplements to help his joints.

The other evening, he was on my bed, sitting in what can only be described as a downright silly position.  He had most of his weight on his lower back, so that his hind legs were splayed out in front, with his front paws in between.  It was the first time I'd seen him do this.   I didn't give it much thought though.  Until this Saturday, when I found him in the kitchen having trouble with his back legs.

He had tried to jump onto the table from the bench and almost didn't make it.  At first I thought he'd slipped on a magazine, but to my horror, I realized that something was wrong with him.  He was staggering, every few steps, like a drunk.  In a panic, I called Cricket, who was away for the week-end.  I thought that I should take him to the Vet E.R. at the University of Pennsylvania, which is expensive, so I needed to borrow her credit card.  She agreed, but as I was such a tearful wreck, she suggested I take a few to gather myself and that she'd call me when she got off the road.

I took the time to re-assess the situation.  Newman didn't appear to be in any pain, he was just a little wobbly as he climbed up the stairs to my room with me.  I looked up his symptoms in some animal books I had.  His condition could be caused by any number of things, but the one that gave me hope, was that an ear-infection could be the cause.  Of course, brain trauma, chemical poisoning and a bunch of other nasty options were also possibilities.

By the time that Cricket called back, I had decided to take him to our regular vet, first thing Monday morning.  Whilst this may seem callous, I actually believe it's the best choice.  Our vet knows us.  She will be more able to help me make the right decisions for Newman.  Penn's Vet E.R. is a teaching hospital, so, while being an enourmous asset when it comes to life-threatening emergancies, they can lose sight of the quality of life issue.

When Cricket's last dog Nimrod, who was quite old, was brought in because he was bleeding internally, they were offering her the option of prolonging his life.  Turns out, that when asked for a prognosis, even if they did all the operations that they were suggesting, he would only gain a couple of months, if  that.  I was there with her when she made the heart-wrenching decision to let him die, to be put to sleep.  It is the greatest gift that we humans have; to be able to let our animals live and die with dignity, sparing them needless suffering at the end.

For now, Hello Newman is purring beside me on my bed.  Which is where I hope he'll be for countless tomorrows.  In the morning, we'll see what we can do to help him live a happy life.

I stayed up too late last night watching the second series of HBO's "The Wire"; so the brunch with my neighbour Junior got blown off. This is strategically not the smartest move. Given to mercurial views on his friends and loved ones, he can be a fierce foe.

I had ignored my ringing phone so that I could keep sleeping. I've had a lot on my plate recently and it's exacting it's toll. The problem with Manic Depression, is that when you feel good, you try to cram as much living as possible into that time.

I'm volunteering at a women's prison on Monday nights, I have a part-time job, I'm taking an art class, I have somehow found myself on the "Please save this dog" e-mailing lists, ( I have found homes for a couple), I see my therapist once a week, I attend 12-Step meetings, I try and clean out the five litter-boxes each day, my car just died, I saw my mum for the first time in about six years and next week I am going to enjoy the fabulous experience of a Colonoscopy, as I am in quite a bit of pain. As my housecleaning and social life is spotty at best, these have been put not on the back-burner, but behind the actual oven.

Last weekend I helped Junior empty the coffin outside of his house, (Emptying The Coffin, 6/17/08). We had made tentative plans for brunch today, but I had to be an arse and stay up watching "The Wire", which I'd gotten from NetFlix. By the time I got up, my room-mate Cricket was just about to leave on her errands. I went with her, because without a car I need help picking up the twenty-pound bag of Science Diet for the cats.

I was totally out of it, but then we stopped for a meal at Sulimay's. The food and caffine must have done the trick, as my brain started to function after a delicious grilled chicken salad club sandwich and three large Diet Cokes.

Realizing my blunder with Junior, we ran our errands with the idea of buying him a peace offering. That was my second mistake of the day, because we found a new book shop in our neighbourhood. We had just come out of Villa & Hut, flushed with our gift for him, when we spotted the book shop. We had to go in.

Thirty dollars later I was the proud owner of "The Gospel of Judas", "Through the Lens" (both National Geographic hardcovers) and "The Encyclopedia of Natural Pet Care". Cricket resisted the temptation, with a struggle. Me? I need help when it comes to books, as I can never have too many and I will read them. The problem with this is that A) I read far too quickly, B) I don't have the money to spare and C) I have been trying to "manage" my book reading, as I find myself short of (A+B) + time.

Nonetheless, I love this evil place! It's an actual warehouse of new and used books. The guys have been operating online for some time, but have just recently opened the space to the public. And it's right by my bank.

I'm still waiting for Junior to return my humbly apologetic phone calls. I want him to have the wonderful wooden bowl we picked out at Villa & Hut. But most of all, I don't want him to be upset.