tavie.com

My mom has been taking this all surpringly hard. Besides me she's been crying the most, at odd times during the day. I was very proud of her that she went to work immediately following what had to be done on Tuesday, went to work all alone while the rest of us got to stay home.

She's been getting through it by utilizing various online pet loss support sites. She wrote this tribute to the girl. Normally I don't understand those kinds of things, but now I see how it works. She doesn't have this kind of outlet for expression and she needed to do something. I think the only thing she really regrets is the muzac version of "I Will Always Love You" that accompanies the tribute. Gah. She also wrote this story on the pet board on the site. That's good. I'm glad she did that.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 7:57 PM | shower me with attention

I think my three current favourite distractions, in no particular order, are:

Burning Monkey Solitaire

M*A*S*H

Linn's Sex Chronicles

If you haven't been checking into that lately, you're missing some of the most comical/steamiest Swedish sexploits since... I don't know... 70's Swedish porn, I guess. I've never seen 70's Swedish porn but now I imagine all of it to take place in Linn's apartment.

I wonder if she's installed that hängmatta yet...

Why are you in Tavie's head? 5:09 PM | shower me with attention

The music geek on Beat the Geeks just said, "Scott Miller of The Loud Family is the greatest living songwriter... and I'm the only one who knows it."

Ha ha ha ha ha!

Why are you in Tavie's head? 11:32 AM | shower me with attention

I just saw a commercial for stuffed Care Bears that looked pretty much as I remember them save for the fact that it began with two freakish, badly-animated 3-D cartoon Care Bears singing, "Who needs a Care Bear hug?"

But I might still be asleep, I might have dreamed it. So never mind.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 7:46 AM | shower me with attention

Wednesday, August 21, 2002

Name/personality analysis I got from Toronto Steph is surprisingly accurate. Except for the whole "responsible" and "self-confident" part. But other than that... right on.

Now I'll analyze the accuracy of some others. This will be limited to those people I know who don't share a name with any of my other close friends.

Gina: You are stable, trustworthy, homeloving, and logical in practical matters, but rather unresponsive to suggestions from others. You resist change. This is the only really correct part. Everything else is wrong.

Ade: Dead-on accurate.

Kirsten: Eh. Not so much. A little on the restlessness point, but the whole "organized" thing? Nuh-uh.

Cheryl: The ever-present desire to progress does not allow you proper relaxation or the proper expression of the softer feminine qualities of sympathy, encouragement, and affection. Others see you as rather shrewd and calculating. Dead-off wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong.

Erica: Pretty accurate. The possessive/jealous stuff is very wrong.

Kitana: Much here is stunningly accurate, this most of all: You would be most successful in situations where you can use your skills in diplomacy in handling people. Stunningly true. Very right-on. Do they know her?

Steve: Not too much of this sounds very accurate, although I could be wrong.

Matt: This sounds pretty right, although some points (particularly, "too certain of yourself") are inaccurate.

Goose: I'm not too sure, but most of this sounds pretty damn correct. I'm not too sure about the lack of compassion nor the businesslike nature-- in fact, yeah, those are wrong-- but, otherwise, right on.

Linn: It starts out okay ( an intense desire to be of service to others,) but then veers off into the Land of Wrong (you are not especially imaginative or investigative.) Oh well.

Rynn: Nope. Businesslike? Materialistic? Reticent? Tigga, please.

That's it. If I left you out, it means I don't feel capable of judging you yet. Wine and dine me a little more; show me your soul.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 8:43 PM | shower me with attention

Estelle Getty just said, "for a guy at the center" and I thought she said "for dried placenta".

I think it is finally time to get the ears checked.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 6:32 PM | shower me with attention

And having done that I'd like to say something else. My friends. You're holding me up. Thank you for holding me up. This is a bad time. I haven't had a time this bad since the summer of 1990. This is bad in a different way, I suppose a more manageable way because so many of you have been through the same thing and when you tell me about your experiences it helps me.

So that's what I wanted to say right now. I'm ready to go back to triviality on this thing because I miss it. I'm sort of tired of missing things. I miss my friends who live far away. I miss my uncle who I haven't seen since June and may not see for awhile because he's not really my uncle anymore in any sort of legal sense. I miss my Rosie. So there's no use in depriving myself of triviliality, because it's one less thing I'll have to miss, and god knows there will be more things to miss in the coming weeks.

That said, I came across this article while searching for an alternate Mac Solitaire game (until I found a code for my Monkies that Burn and needed a new one no longer). Boy, what a snob. I hate chess. Solitaire rules. You see how the author pathetically and obviously refers to the "think different" campaign as proof that Mac users are smarter? Oh, we think outside the box, we do! And smarter people play chess, see? I'm smart enough and I hate chess, and I use a Mac. So, so much for that, you dope.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 4:05 PM | shower me with attention

I wrote an email to some friends yesterday when I got home from the vet. It made me feel a little better to write it. I think I'd like to have it in this space, too, for my archives. So I'm going to put it here.

--
I don't know what else to do since I can't sleep so I signed on. Being signed on is comforting because it's what I do the most even though there's nothing really to do.

This morning we took Rosie to the vet and they found fluid around her lungs and heart pressing down on her lungs making it hard for her to breathe. It's been building for awhile and although they could have drained it it would have most likely come back within a few days and kept coming back, and the procedure would have been traumatic for her. Just being there was traumatic for her. She hadn't left our apartment the whole 12 years we've lived here. Today was the first time and the last time.

I was there with her and Kirsten was too. I pet Rosie and Kirsten pet me and then Rosie was asleep. She was fifteen years old. She and Lily were kittens and Kirsten and I were also kittens when we first met. Mom dumped them out on Kirsten's bed and they were so little. Lily went to me and Rosie went to Kirsten so we thought Lily was mine and Rosie was Kirsten's, but later on it was Lily who latched onto Kirsten and Rosie became my girl. In her youth Rosie was a huntress who prowled the streets and backyards of Brooklyn. Her best friend was a tailless stray called Mr Mannix. She used to drop mice at our bedroom door as gifts. She looked a little like Batman. When she was two years old she ran out after us one day as we crossed the street with our mom, and right smack into a car. After her recovery she was a little crooked about the mouth. In later years I called her "Mary Jo Buttafu-cat" when I wanted to tease her, which was an exceedingly wicked and deranged thing to do. When we moved to Roosevelt Island she became an indoor dame whose favourite activity was basking in the patch of sunshine on my parents' bed, and drooling.

She loved everyone and loved to climb into laps and lick the hands of strangers. Licking was her highest form of affection. If you pet her she would lick you as thanks, and if you didn't she would lick you as a request that you pet her. She slept on my bed every night and when her licking became annoying I would flop over and avoid her until she got the picture and settled down in the small of my back to sleep. There is always a perpetual hairy patch on my bedsheets.

She was a diva. She was shaped like a meatloaf. She had a lot of mass in her ass. I would sing to her "Really Rosie" because that's who she was. Her full name was Calico Rose.

Dad was her second favourite, and then Kirsten and Mom, but I was her very favourite and she was mine. I will love her forever.

I didn't think I could be there for her at the end. I couldn't even go to my grandmother's funeral. But I was there and I held her. I did not leave her alone at the end.

I feel better having said all that.

This has never happened to me before and I don't really know what to do but it hurts very much.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 3:58 PM | shower me with attention

Tuesday, August 20, 2002

She's gone.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 12:34 PM | shower me with attention

Monday, August 19, 2002

We're taking Rosie in first thing in the morning. She is lying on my parent's bed on my dad's side with her eyes open, breathing too heavily. She keeps rubbing one eye, which is leaking, and didn't eat all day yesterday. She ate a piece of chicken Mom gave her earlier, almost threw it up, but didn't. She responds a little when I pet her and even licked my hand--not like she usually does, she usually slurps at any available skin she can find when petted-- but she is scaring me a lot. I am very very freaked out. I am not going to undress tonight so as soon as my mom wakes up we can take her across the tram to the animal hospital on 66th.

There's nothing here in this house I can eat. We just got huge shipments from grocery.com and freshdirect.com and yet there's nothing here I can eat. What the fuck is that about? I got home and Kirsten and her friends have ordered pizza. So I guess I'll be eating the top of a slice of pizza. Although to be fair Kirsten is trying to help me find something more substantial and seems concerned about my hunger.

Smatthew and I went and saw an exceedingly mediocre concert tonight. We were the youngest people in the theatre. The chanteuse wore the ugliest pants set I have ever seen and almost choked to death near the end of one of the songs. I wonder if that's the last I'll see of Matt before he goes to Yale.

Rosie is my best friend and I love her more than I've ever loved any animal, or ever will. She's the only person who loves me more than anyone else in the whole world. I'm her absotootin' favourite and she is mine. She shares my bed and covers me with kisses and let me use her as a pillow-- before she lost all that weight-- and she loves Dad second best but she loves me most. I love Lily very, very much but she is Kirsten's girl and Rosie is my girl and I don't know what I'm going to do if they can't help her. I really don't.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 10:52 PM | shower me with attention

I found a dime from 1942 in my piggy bank. It's a Mercury dime. It's neat looking.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 4:38 PM | shower me with attention

I'm Velma, which ambiguous dyke are you? Quiz by Turi.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 1:48 PM | shower me with attention

Sunday, August 18, 2002

We finally saw Lilo and Stitch today.

I loved it.

Holy CRAP!

Thass, thassmy fav'rite since Beauty and the Beast. And I'm not particularly anti-Disney, so that actually is saying something. And it's not just because of Kevin. I would have seen it even without Kevin (although I probably wouldn't have been so anxious to see it in a theatre so late in its run were it not for Mr McDonald) and I just really loved it. I loved the watercolour background and the weird characters and the Elvis music and the sly references to obscure Disneyana. (Who else caught the tiny blinking Spaceship Earth on a radar screen near the end? How about the illustrations from the old Disney short The Ugly Duckling?) Man, what a great movie. I can't wait to own it and watch it over and over again. I really want a Pleakley toy and since it's now too late I guess I'll be turning to ebay for that.

Great flick.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 7:11 PM | shower me with attention

Kirsten IMs me this morning and the first thing she says is, "Rosie needs to see a vet."

No no no no no no no... "What's wrong??? Is she okay???"

"Well, sort of. She isn't eating, she is just lying around, not moving much. She's depressed. I think she's sick. She is old."

Nonononononononono. She had been worrying me lately. She's dropped a lot of weight recently, and now you can feel all her bones when you pet her. She seems to be panting at rest. She's fifteen years old.

"Can it wait until mom comes home?"

"I don't know, I guess so."

(It will have to, I haven't the means to get her to a vet right now, and I'm still in Jersey besides.)

Oh god oh god oh god no. I've been avoiding thinking about this since I was seven years old.

(And Lily, while still active and eating, still has that cold.)

I can't take it, I really can't. Everyone else may get old, but not my Rosie.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 12:23 PM | shower me with attention

Was this the longest day?

Maybe not, but certainly the hottest. I spent almost six hours in a car today, rode through every borough in the city and Westchester besides, baked in Cadillacs (plural) for hours upon hours with the a/c turned off in the blistering, soup-efying heat, and was returned to Mint Manor, finally, in air-conditioned luxury by Stephie of Staten Island.

I wish I had a dock to jump off of, for the summer certainly wastes away.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 1:08 AM | shower me with attention

I hope this new comment thing works, because the old one sucked. I sort of hate that all the old comments got erased, but did you notice how much that stupid thing was slowing down my page? Fuck that shit.

Anyway. If you said anything nice about me in the old comments, feel free to repeat them. ;)

Why are you in Tavie's head? 12:20 AM | shower me with attention