Lightning was dying. Husband was on call for burial duty. I sat the children down. I explained that Lightning was very old and very ill.
They cried.
But Lightning defiantly clung to life. Each day, I would wake and text my mom. How is Lightning? How are you? Each day she would text back. He's still alive, hiding under the bed.
Sunday morning dawned. Lightning seemed to be sinking rapidly, like the Lusitania after her fatal torpedo strike. My mom texted me. She and my dad wouldn't be in church. They were headed to the - you guessed it - emergency vet. The very same emergency vet my mom and I had taken Buns to in the middle of the night, so many years ago.
Church that Sunday. Oh, church that Sunday. We're a small congregation, so each churchgoer noticed my parents weren't in attendance. I could see the concerned looks being cast in my direction. I knew what they were thinking. My mom was sick again. My father was probably at her bedside.
But no, I told the congregants. My mom is not sick again. My parents' cat is dying.
Our resident vegetarian said that was just as bad.
The kids lit candles for Lightning. Ostensibly it worked, for after church my mom called with good news.
Antibiotics, intravenous fluids, and the financial equivalent of a mortgage payment had helped Lightning to rally. He could, she said, maybe even get a few more years. All she had to do was give him antibiotics. And 20 milliliters of fluid. Injected under his skin. Every 2 hours. For a few days.
Like I said. My mom doesn't go down without a fight.
The children had been greeting each day with the same dread-filled query I had been texting to my mom. How is Lightning? That Sunday, I gave them the happy news. Lightning is getting better, I told them. Dry your eyes and unfurrow your brow. He's getting better!
Oh, why did I believe my mom, and pass that hope onto my children? My mom, who refused to evacuate an island in a hurricane? My mom, who told me to get tested for STI's while I was pregnant because I'd actually had sex before Husband? My mom, who once lost my three year old at a rest stop in Virginia?
For a week, my parents diligently gave Lightning his medication and subcutaneous fluid. Gently, I tried to point out that, I don't know, maybe we should let the 17 year old cat die peacefully? But you don't argue with my mom, or suggest she may be wrong. I narrowly succeeded in getting her off the island before the hurricane hit. It is one of the few arguments I have won.
She, of course, says I always win. It's so hard to disagree. Perfectionists like to believe we win at everything.
Sadly, the following Saturday Lightning began a descent worse than Alison on The Affair. Carrie on Homeland. Cookie Monster in the iPhone commercial. Off my parents trucked to the emergency vet. Out went the group text that they were putting him down.
I told my kids that Lightning was going to die this day. You know, again.
Look, I had a legitimate reason for telling them. My sister was coming for lunch. I was sure one of us would slip and say something in front of the kids.
So yes. They cried.
After lunch, my sister and I received a jubilant text from my mom:
Again I told the children that Lightning had rallied. Because, well, I'm stupid.
For the cost of a weekly Shore rental, Lightning was again treated with every medical tool at the emergency vet's disposal. Now, when I had appendicitis, my mom tried to persuade me to put off the surgery until I was "sure". I had forty-eight hours of excruciating abdominal pain and a CT scan that showed an acutely inflamed appendix. But let's not be too rash with our medical treatment.
And when my parents bought a used minivan that popped a flat while my dad was (again) in Scotland, my dad balked when my mom put four brand new tires on the car and one brand new tire in the spare compartment. Why would you spend that money when there's perfectly good tires laying around the junk yard? he demanded to know.
But a sick, elderly cat? Where do we sign?
At six o'clock the next morning, a text shot through the phone of everyone in the Pope-pourri family.
Lightning had died.
Don't tell the kids, Husband warned. You don't know what's true anymore.
But I told them. And yes, they cried.
I took my dad to breakfast. He said that Lightning used to wake him up between 4 and 5 in the morning. With Lightning gone, he was no longer getting up so early. But on that day, he had awoken and started the coffee - only to realize it was one o'clock in the morning.
Lightning ran my parents' schedule. I'm not sure their household can function without his strict timekeeping.
Next I called my mom. She said my dad had been concerned about Lightning's eating in the weeks prior to his death, but that that was just CRAZY because my dad was feeding Lightning chicken and Lightning didn't like CHICKEN, Lightning liked FISH. I think the whole thing is CRAZY because my dad also doesn't like CHICKEN and maybe she was just getting the two of them confused.
Lightning comprised 50% of parents' tete-a-tetes. I'm not sure their marriage can survive without him.
I wonder - of which parent I will gain custody?
The Binge
What follows is your Binge schedule for the next few months. First, Daredevil Season 2 is on Netflix. Do not believe the naysayers who deride Season 2. Season 2 rocks. If you haven't watched any of Daredevil, this is a perfect time to get yourself in gear. Season 1 is available to stream on Netflix and Amazon, Season 2 is solely on Netflix.
Intersperse your Daredevil binge with Cinemax's Banshee. Banshee is harder to binge because you need to watch with someone with whom you enjoy carnal relations. Banshee is available On Demand and Amazon if you're just joining, and be aware that this is Banshee's last season. Season 4 begins April 1st, so while you're waiting check out Banshee Origins on YouTube. Banshee Origins provides critical snippets of information - taking place before the story in the series - in 6 to 7 minute increments. All told, it's about an evening's worth of viewing. And since you're engaging in lascivious activities, my mom will call you and tell you to get tested for STIs.
Combined, Daredevil and Banshee should bring you nicely to GoT's doors. Game of Thrones Season 6 begins on April 24th on HBO. If you are one of the four people on the planet who hasn't watched a single episode, they're available On Demand and Amazon. Ommegang Brewery releases a GoT beer with each season. It is the perfect companion piece.
If you can't get lucky with these alcoholic and televised binges, you are beyond my help.
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