City of Brotherly Clam Chowder

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Well we are off to Boston. Huh. Bawstin…

So far the day has been meh. A 5:30 start, I missed the offramp onto Calgary Trail, then we were offered separate seats so we tried to change them. That resulted is a pseudo-standby status until we hit the gate.

Passing through security we spotted Justin Trudeau going through the Nexus line. Didn’t see him in the lineups for our Ottawa leg though. Tall.

We got seats (we were worried for a minute) but they are separate. Our pilot keeps forgetting we are going to Ottawa as opposed to Montreal. Maybe we are just not destined to go to Boston. At least I’ll get to watch Guardians of the Galaxy. ???? Anyway… A huge puff of oily smoke just came out of the port engine as we were backing. This keeps getting better and better

Well. Not dead, maimed or other.

A 2 hour layover in Ottawa.
An hour and fifteen crammed in a Dash 8 against an ice cold bulkhead (still separate seats).
A 25 minute wait for a taxi.

This day was out to get me.

That’s why at about 12:30 the two young (twenties) girls in the next room came home and started laughing, inviting ‘Steve’ from down the hall, having speaker phone conversations and ordering takeout.

At 1:30 I went down and got a new room.

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Just shy of 18 years

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Almost 18 years ago we ‘acquired’ Samantha. In January 1997, we brought her home from the old Humane Society on Yellowhead and immediately locked her in Zak’s room with the old baby gate to protect her from Hobbes, who was many years older and many pounds heavier. So she hopped the gate. And we put her back. And she hopped the gate.

For almost 18 years Sammy has been ‘hopping the gate’ and doing—and getting—pretty  much whatever she wanted. And now she isn’t.

After almost 18 years together, we made the decision to take her to the vet today and end her life. She had been gradually deteriorating and losing weight for almost 2 years now despite the daily pill wars, but the last couple of weeks took her from a playful and mobile ‘big’ cat to one who barely moved and who was now skeletally thin and the last couple of days had us carrying her around out of sympathy for her old bones. It was the right decision. I just hate that it had to be made.

For almost 18 years my life has revolved around a stone’s worth of fur, claws and attitude. She cataloged books, climbed up robes, chased (and caught) birds and rabbits, was featured in books and magazines, and sought out everyone she could for her just and deserved portion of attention and she shared all of it with us. And now it doesn’t.

Life sure is funny.

To Samantha T. (The) Cat: te memoria