RIP Kitty Flannery 2004-2012

Thanksgiving 2012 was a bittersweet holiday for our household this year. While we had, and continue to have, much for which to be thankful, we had to say good-bye to our dearest friend and house pet, Kitty. She had a full and good life with us here in Decatur, Georgia. She was part Manx, and had only a stub for a tail. Calico in coloration, and stocky in build, she was classified by cat fanciers as a “cobbie”, and seemed to demonstrate more smarts than most cats I’ve ever encountered. On my way back from summer vacation in August, I phoned my partner, who told me that our vet had just diagnosed Kitty with metastatic liver cancer. She had lost four pounds in a few months time, so we were concerned. The prognosis on 9 August was four weeks at most. Yet, she made it to Thanksgiving. Her final week was a struggle for all of us. She no longer had the capability to groom herself or walk. Yet she remained alive and hungry. Nevertheless, we thought it best to put her  discomforts to a final rest. These decisions are never easy.

Outside of that, our lives in Metropolitan Atlanta have been good. We lost a few other close friends and former co-workers, but we are now in our 50’s, so these events are going to be happening more often in our lives. As long as we can keep the likelihood of these events in perspective, we’ll continue to see our lives as being worthwhile.

We have an excellent single-story 3-BR house in Decatur, which is just northeast of Atlanta. The city of Decatur itself is just east of Atlanta. We are not in the Decatur city limits. To paraphrase Michael Caine, who was correct to point out that he lived outside Beverly Hills and not in it, we live in Decatur Post Office, and not in Decatur itself.  We have one of Decatur’s zip codes, but that is as close to being a part of of the city as we can be.

As much as I would love to be within that small city’s corporate limits, we manage quite well with going withing the town on a regular basis. I pick up the train there most mornings, when I go it to work.

Decatur has a small-town feel to it, which to some would seem unusual given its proximity to Atlanta. But, I am glad it has remained that way. The city is snug within its 4 sq. miles of area, and it has its own school system. Decatur also has among the highest property taxes in the state. Most who own property there seem to think the taxes make life worth living there.

We are in the unincorporated community of Rehoboth, which had a greater identity 35 years ago than it does today. Because so many people living in the area are new to Atlanta, most who ask me about my house don’t know where Rehoboth is. It probably began losing its identity when I-285 went through the middle of it. There is a mega-church a few blocks away, known as Rehoboth Baptist Church. Most people associate that as being Rehoboth. Not us. We are two blocks from the center of Rehoboth, inside 285. Rehoboth Baptist is outside 285. That’s an important distinction for most folks living in the Atlanta  metro area.

More on that later. First I have to turn to a couple of women who are demanding attention: my old girlfriends Sink-Full-of Dishes. And Basket-Full-of-Laundry. Things tend to pile up when we spend too much time on the Internet.


From an Atlanta suburb

Just getting the ball rolling. I had not intended to start a blog today. I wanted to add a comment to Margaret and Helen’s blog. As I attempted to go through the normal channels, this blog site rolled itself out to me. I recalled Cat’s Cradle, by Kurt Vonnegut. In it, a prophet said, “Unexpected travel invitations are dancing lessons from God.” From which god, this wasn’t clear. But it laid itself out to written upon. The dancing lesson begins.

“Careful what you say! We’re on the air,” Daffy Duck admonished in an old Looney Tunes cartoon. I am on the air a lot, more often than I should be. I speak for a living. My voice often fills rooms at my workplaces, or it goes over the airwaves. I have to be watchful of what words I put into my mouth. Sometimes I am mistaken for someone who gives his opinion too freely or too often.

It’s almost Thanksgiving, and Margaret & Helen had a delightful post about the subject. I am employed at a tourist attraction, so I am usually working on most holidays. For the third consecutive year, it’s going be another crock-pot Thanksgiving for this professional gum-flapper. I’m not unhappy, though. Things could be much worse. At least I get to clock out at 4 pm tomorrow.