But wait...there's more

Just when you start to think you've crossed the hump, turned the corner, are on the up-and-up, along comes something else to knock you down a notch.

I got just such a thumping this fine south Florida evening.

Tonight A and I took our two furboys to the vet for their annual exams. Furboy #1 is the younger of the duo at an immature 5, and according the vet, "one healthy guy!" (exclamation point hers). Furboy #2 is my senior guy at a mature 9, and tonight we were told that he has cancer--specifically, he has a mast cell tumor (or mastocytoma) on his left hip. It is a grape-sized lump that we pointed out to the vet. Being 9, furboy #2 has long had lypomas (or fatty tumors) here and there on his body. Always biopsied, always benign. Until now.

The vet thinks it's only (ONLY!) stage I but we won't know for sure until the surgery to remove it, presently scheduled for Nov. 11th. If it's worse than that (Stages II or III, the worst), we may be talking chemo and/or radiation.

I ask you universe, just how much more shit can I take? You've been dishing it out lately and I've taken it--begrudgingly--but I've dealt. This shit is getting old quick but I will not give you the satisfaction of breaking me, no.sir.ree. I won't give you the fucking pleasure. Instead I give you the big two-fisted fuck you to whoever is in charge, sick twisted bastard.

And I ask you wonderful women to please please please keep my Norm in your thoughts (and prayers if you're the religious type). He's my oldest baby and I don't know what my life would be like without him in it. I don't want anymore loss--not this year, hell not for many years...Norm deserves at least that much. Please don't let this be the start of the final chapter...I'm not ready.