Rachel's sister, Becka, showed up on tuesday, with her Slavic friend Stano, and her mutt Suesue to crash there for the New Years mania. And Rachel's cat didn't seem to like the fact that a dog invaded his space. I spent much of the holiday weekend cleaning the apartment, since it was horribly messy, the cat pissed on some laundry, and I had guests coming and my mother's DNA kicked in and I went into white tornado mode. The cat seemed preturbed the whole time I was cleaning.

This leads me to a story of my mother that has much revelance to this tale. My mom had a high school friend who invited her for a sleep over. They had this parrot whose cage was in the corner of the living room. There was an inch thick layer of bird shit lining the bottom of the cage, and some crap had gotten caked onto the wall behind the cage. This drove my mother insane, and she insisted on cleaning it up. She scrubbed every inch of the cage, washed down the walls, and lined the cage with fresh newspaper. They put the bird back in the cage, it looked around, drew in a deep breath, let out an orgasmic squawk, and dropped dead on the spot from shock. The slumber party was disbanded and my mother was distraught from guilt.

Tuesday the cat refused to eat or drink while the dog was hanging around and he looked a little down. Wednesday he still was a little mopey and I tried to get him to eat and he refused to. While at work wednesday night I got a call from Becka saying that the cat didn't look right and he was dehydrated. When I got home he did not look good. I got a small stopper and forced him to drink water. The poor guy couldn't even stand up, and he shit and pissed all over me. Unfortunately, I didn't have any money or credit cards. Most of my friends were either out of town for the holidays or in the same situation as me. Also, I was unable to reach Rachel, who is in Ireland.

I get Ian on the phone. Now Ian has refused to speak to my little bunch of homies for almost a year cause he feels he has been wronged by them, and hence he has refused to talk to me even though I haven't done anything to warrant it. In particular, Rachel and him had a falling out over some money. She took care of his dog, he always paid her for it, this time he dicked around paying her, she got verbally abusive with him, and that was that.

So now I'm trying to convince a monumentally drunk Ian to come over with his credit card so I can try and save Rachel's cat's life. Of course he was macking on two tall Nubian goddesses, and his dick rules his world. Finally he arrives, and he's a blathering mess. He falls down the steps to the apartment building almost breaking his neck. I have to force him to get in the cab to take us to the only emergency animal hospital open at wee hours.

We get to the hospital, the vet picks up kitty, looks at me with the knowing eyes of a doctor thats seen animal on they're last legs, and rushes him to a room. I fill out all the necessary forms, and head for the room where the doc is inspecting the kitty. She has a thermometer up his butt and he is crying about it. Its not good. She says this cat has been sick for a while, and didn't I notice any changes in his behavior. I had just started taking care of him two months ago and didn't know what kind of bathroom habits he had. She rushed him down to the ICU.

As I am waiting for the doctor to come back up and give me the status, I have to deal with Ian. He kept trying to go downstairs to get the cat so we could bury him in Central Park, and that the cat's life is done and I should tell them to end it now. Two women came in with their dog who was walking funny. Ian plops down on the floor with the dog and tells the owner there is nothing wrong with their dog. I have to pick him up off the floor and beg him to shut the fuck up. A mother and daughter walk in with their dead dog wrapped in a blanket, tears streaming down their faces. Ian starts talking about how dog's times come up, and people need to accept that, fully loud enough for everyone to hear. I'm trying to keep the front desk clerk from throwing him out, and trying to convince Ian to shut up and also stay so that I can use his credit card to pay for the whole thing.

The doctor comes up, its about four in the morning. She tells me that she has the cat in a fairly stable condition, but she is unsure whats wrong with him, only that it don't look good. And in order to find out it'll cost at least two grand, and we had already racked up a bill of over five hundred. Ian is demanding that he see the cat or else he won't pay for anything, and even then he probably won't. Arrrrrrrgh. Still no word from Rachel.

So now the doc has agreed to hold off on any tests, but to keep him in stable condition till I hear from Rachel, however if it comes down to crunch time and its either death or more advanced treatment she will need an answer from me immediately. As the hours tick by she does a little blood work which reveals that the cat has had a kidney problem for at least three months if not longer and that the changes in his program (clean apt, dog) made the constant PH balance fight he had going on crash. In her words it looked "grim". He was suffering and I decided that if I did not hear from Rachel by six, I was going to tell the doctor to put him down.

6:05, and I am signing papers to end the cat's misery. Cell phone rings, its Rachel. Her sister told her what was going on, and she was hysterical. She talked to the vet for about an hour. She finally consented to put Kitty to sleep. However, she didn't want him cremated cause she wanted to save his bones for mounting. The doc had no idea where that could be done. Regardless, if that was what was going to happen someone would have to pick the body up and transport it to wherever it would go down. She tells me she is going to call right back. She calls back, again hysterical, because her before mentioned sister has a truck and she wanted to have her drive the body down to their mother's home in Baltimore. Becka wasn't down for leaving early, so she suggested storing the body in the freezer till she left, which again made Rachel hysterical.

So its nine in the morning, and I'm holding the cat in my arms as they give him the shot, and he passes. It was quick and peaceful. Of course the doc didn't warn me of the last gasps a dying body's reflexes goes through, which was real scary. We have arranged to pick up the ashes in a couple of weeks. I get in a cab and go home.

Can't sleep. Read magazines till I pass out around noon. The door buzzer wakes me up, but I don't get out of bed since Becka answers it. I hear her read the packages contents. Something about denied subtenant application. Arrrrrrrgh. I hop out of bed ask Becka what she was reading. Your request to make Spanklin a subtenant has been denied, because you didn't inform with certified mail, and ten days before the subtenant moved in, and plus we believe you intend to stay in Ireland. The diseased rectum landlord had tried to kick all the old tenants out over a year ago since its rent controlled and if they leave they can rent them to somebody else for three times as much. Rachel heard a rumor that they were trying to find any legal reason to break leases. So she put in an official subtenant request. She was paying the rent through her account, and they had no reason to believe I was in there, until now. So if I don't move out in two weeks she could lose the lease. Yay, once again I'm homeless.

I have slept maybe once in five days, and I have drank, smoked, and fucked as much as possible. I am at work with a thousand yard stare and I hate everyone, including you. I would tell you the drinking, smoking, and fucking adventures I had during the whole new years thing, but I'm burnt.

To all the lawyers and landlords out there. If I ever reach a position of power, I'll line you up in front of an empty ditch, put a bullet in your fucking heads, and reroute the sewers to cover your bodies in human filth.

I hope everyone had a joyous holiday and that the New Year brings you luck and happiness. Hugs. Kisses.