My cat died.

Monday of last week I took my cat Lita to the veterinarian to be put to sleep. She weighed three pounds. She was nearly seventeen-years-old. Her eyes were half-open and she appeared to have lost her sight. Lita walked up the back steps and slept that morning on the bed of one of my housemates. She slept in parallel fashion with her companion kitten, Arlo, a black punk cat with green globes for eyes and almost 8 years-old.

By mid-afternoon Lita walked over to her water bowl and smelled it. She could not drink.

My housemates and I discussed whether she should be put to sleep or whether she would have more dignity dying at home--however long that would take and however much she might be suffering meanwhile. My decision had already been made: take her from her suffering. We reached the emergency hours for the veterinary specialists at 6:00 pm. I had decided to start reading The Upanishads. I couldn't see around me, although I was petting her while we waited.

When the vet saw her, he asked if she'd been eating at all. For the past week or more, she had started to end eating. He explained that she was utterly dehydrated. He compared her experience to one of his own when he was mountain climbing or something. He said he had had the same level of dehydration as Lita and that he had been in great physical pain. He also mentioned that he wished that people who have incurable diseases and are suffering immensely should be allowed to end their suffering. Euthanasia can save lives.

Forgot what I was trying to say...

It's red and velvety. It's a book. It's my "scribbling pad" and it is always near my bed. The writings are all from summer of 1999. There's a passage that I can't comprehend. I mean, I have no idea what I'm trying to say. Help me out!

"Don't you want to cry?" asked Patsy. She had just been made aware of her friend's recent miseries.

"What do you mean 'want to'? Sandra let out with a vehemence bordering on psychotic, episodic, (psychic?) meandering.

" I suppose I should have said, 'will you?' or 'can you'--or maybe I should just have remained silent. "You just said that no one cares about you."

"That's perfect." Gratuitous responses to what is obviously beyond anyone's control. "If I could cry, I would."

Her shoulder-length brownish hair was speckled with white. It was, at least, clean.

"I've got to go now," announced Patsy, as she tossed back her orange-cascading locks. "I just remembered I have to pick up the child. Take care, ok,?"

Patsy's tight black pants betrayed a certain need for sex, but her preppie, forest-green shirt told most of America that, in a pinch, she would be on their side.

Sandra...thought about the spirit that had inhabited her while she was pregnant years ago. She wondered if it ever made it to its desired home. Maybe it was living in one of Patsy's kids. "That thing spends too much time berating Man for whatever reason." Sandra told herself that it was time--now or never--to give birth to a similar ghoul or otherwise unsavory spirit. "I have absolutely nothing to hold on to, she thought. "And that's why women love to parade their newborns around the street of the city, allowing them to suck in all that carbon monoxide from busy drivers and then take them home to suckle off the teat of a Mama lamb who just grazed on some MSG-filled potato chips from the local corner store. That's what I need."

Bro Jud on Love Energy

Now and ZenBack in March I wrote about being a guest on the Bro Jud on Love Energy show on cable tv 29 here in San Francisco. I forgot to mention that I had worked all day, driven across town for an acupuncture treatment and wasted time away from home (a place called Bernal Heights) until I could be on the show where everyone arrive before 8:30 but videotaping doesn't begin until almost 10 pm. I have seen the dvd of the March show. I didn't realize that three large red pimple-ish areas on the right side of my nose/cheek were highly visible and that the person who was directing had my chair face the direction away from the camera almost at a profile angle so that my blotches could not be seen unless I turned my head 45 degrees to face the camera. I was thinner then, and I had my hair in pig tails and I didn't have bangs like I have now. Needless to say, I didn't bother to look in the mirror before the show and no one told me or commented on my blotchey face.

Tonight, before taping, Jud was combing his hoary beard and shoulder-length hair. He was wearing a black long-sleeved t-shirt. As he was combing, little bits of whitish bits of bits were falling on his shirt. No one told him his dandruff had completely covered his shirt. Because I wished someone had told me about my inattention to my appearance, I helped Jud swish the stuff off. Jud said, "There's always something, isn't there?" I could immediately ruminate on all my bodily flaws from too-thick hair to my un-sexy black socks with a black skirt. Yes, there's always something, I had to agree.

Then I thought about the fact that I'm supposed to be reading something about love energy on this show. People are supposed to be listening to what I read. Lately I've been reading Jud's writing, which, although not "bad," is sometimes murky and takes alot of smiling to carry off well. The director told me tonight that the special effects behind my head looked really good because I wasn't sitting right in the middle of the shot but was off to the side. I said that people have to have something visually interesting to look at since following the material that is read is sometimes a chore.

I used to read from books like The Creative Class and some of Amma's writings as well as poetry. I preferred stringing texts together so that the listener could concentrate on one or more of them and try to piece them together in their minds. But as time has gone on, the show has become, in Jud's head, a classroom or something. He goes off on tangents alot more and is less clear about what he's saying or who his audience is. However, people used to say, "What's this guy talking about? He's full of hot air."

Jud is over 83 years-old. He says he's losing his short-term memory. I have noticed this a little bit, but he is still able to get a 10-person crew together to do the show every month. And he has a "think tank" every Thursday to go over his ideas and to brainstorm. I haven't even mentioned his plan: to end poverty, to provide education to those who are unable to attend public schools due to many reasons, to help single mothers, veterans, people suffering from AIDS and people with physical and mental disabilities.

More on this later...