September 9, 2009; The Crap Parade Continues...

When the times are too interesting.

It's been an emotional rollercoaster here the last two days and it began with a call from the specialist nurse, yesterday afternoon. I knew something was up because when Mook A answered with his usual chirpy voice (this nurse—whom I've never met—always goofs about with him) the chirpyness seemed to disappear into the nether almost immediately and suddenly he was sounding solemn, then grim. "The way I see it," he said to her, his voice shaking, "is that the doctor will do something really awful to me tomorrow, or else we'll have to go back to the three-times-a-week procedure that is insanely painful, or it's surgery..." There was silence and A got very, very quiet. When the call was finished he thanked the nurse, but I knew this was not good news.

That's when he began to cry. I didn't know what to do so I pranced over to the balcony door—Mook B was out there—and tried to do a Lassie: "Little Timmy is stuck in the well—come quick, arf arf arf." B took a while to come in and when he did, A immediately hid in the bathroom. He came out a few minutes later and then it was a blubberfest except he said something that scared the bejeezus out of me: "I don't know how much longer I can do this. It's getting too hard." And then he broke down again.

B tried to take care of him as much as possible but the problem was he had to go to work in about 15 minutes and I was going to be left with this sad sack! As you can guess, I'm not exactly a font of canine kindess at the best of times and this situation looked like it called for extreme measures from me. I supposed I could accommodate that his life was "getting too hard" and tear his throat out, but I don't think B would have taken kindly to this and it would have made later SPCA adoptions difficult.

B left after a bit and A was relatively calmer, but he did what he always does in these situations: he picked me up and held me like I was a girl toddler's rag doll (like I have no bones or organs) and squeezed 'til my eyes bugged out. I let him do it because it seemed like the only thing I could offer.

This morning he went off for the doctor's appointment and it was anyone's guess how he would return. He came back a very short while later and—yay!—he was with my beloved Cate who had driven him and who had brought me a brand new toy (a nylon, chicken-smelling bone which I set to gnawing on immediately).

"So?" B asked.

"An operation, September 24th," said A.

I looked up and listened. The odd thing: it's going to be a D&C (dilation and curettage). Forgive my ignorance, but isn't this an abortion and...well...isn't A a man? (Or at least as close to a man as homos can get?) Well, apparently the wound he has, which will not heal, has to be torn open (ie: dilated) and then cleaned out (curettage) so that the home nurses can then pack it, clean it and heal it properly. It's not happy news but Mook A looked more at peace than last night and it no longer looked like I would have to assist him in his suicide.

B went off to work, Cate and A watched a movie, ate a pizza and I chewed my new toy. Then Cate left.

It was then I noticed that A was sitting in his La-Z Boy and staring out into space. I left my delicious little bone, went over to him and accepted his invitation to curl up on his chest. Slowly A nodded off and slowly so did I.

But here's the thing: as I was about to drift off, I brought my nose close up to his mouth. Dogs do this because warm, gentle breath feels nice on your nose. My nose was really close to his lips and his breathing was so gentle as he slept. His breath smelled like coffee and cigarettes but not too much of either. I realized that this old Mook and the warmth he was wrapping around me and whispering into me was so, so, so much like dear, dear Frank, my first good friend. My lost friend.

For the first time—as my heavy eyelids began to fall closed, and the perfect coziness became a perfect narcotic—I realized that as much as my Mook was an utter pain in the arse (no pun intended) I didn't want to lose him too.