A call to Remember!

So it's almost Christmouse and I don't have a good hiding place because Jett has commandeered all the good closets. But does anyone really know how the tradition of hiding all night on Christmouse Eve started? This Christmouse, I think I am going to right a centuries old smudge on the history of holiday time. Oh sure, you think you know all about the reindeer games and poor Rudolfo (who was Latino). His story gets told every year in some sweet old song, but the tragedy of the reindeer blacklist is something nobody seems to talk about. Does anyone even remember the other blacklisted reindeer who didn't get to go back to work pulling that tub of lard in the goofy red suit? What about their pain? What about their ruined careers? They didn't even have unemployment. Think of these names on Christmouse Eve, when you're snoozing all comfy cozy in your bad, waiting for Old Saint Bernard Nick to bring you tings you don't want or need. Kvetchin and Schvitzen will be remembered this Holiday season, because I think it's important the truth finally be told. I will be taking out a full page in the NY Times, to introduce the great bovine Broadway star Caroline, the dancing spokescow for Gregory and Company, who herself was blacklisted. There were years when she went to every cattle call audition and couldn't get work, even as a hoofer in the chorus. She has a whole lot to moo about, especially since nobody seems to be mounting a new revival of Gypsy. People must remember that an aminal black list happened. Here comes Santa Claws, Here comes Santa Claws, right down Santa Claws lane. Did you know why he was coming down that lane? Santa was the Jerome Robbins of the North Pole. He named names. And he ruined the lives of countless aminals. That's why all animals honor the memory of Schvitzen and Kvetchin each Christmouse by finding a good hiding place.
Won't you join me in remembering the reindeer blacklist this holiday season by making a generous contribution to RAAD, the Reindeer Alliance Against Defication, in care of Gregory and Co.? A portion of proceeds will be donated to the Friends of the Faux Foundation, in memory of Figaro, who was the first great feline voice to speak out against injusice to aminals and dedicated his life to equality and Sybil Rights for all aminals, when he was not starring on Broadway or headlining in Las Vegas or hawking waffles.

Love,
Gregory

Jett is not feeling well

It's me. Gregory.
This is a picture of Jett and Daddy when they were both a whole lot younger.
I wanted to jot down a few words today to let everyone know that Jett is not feeling well at all. Daddy took him to the beterinarian and she looked him up and down and side to side and said, "Jett is not feeling well." For this, Daddy spent a million dollars.

While he was there, Jett got stuck with needles and the beterinarian also took his temperature, which was, as they say, no picnic. The next day, the beterinarian reviewed all of the tests and confirmed that Jett is in kidney failure. This is not the best kind of news we could get. Daddy was not thrilled at all and Jett has been hiding in the closet, even though Daddy always says, "We don't do closets in this house."

After Daddy talked to the beterinarian, he crawled down on the floor in the back of the closet with Jett. I went in there too, to see what was going on because I don't like to miss anything. That's when daddy told Jett and me what the doctor said. Daddy is very sad, but he told us he will keep Jett as happy and as comfortable as possible, for as long as possible and that he loves us both very much.

Can I just say that this really stinks? I mean a lot. A whole lot.
Daddy depends on Jett and me to take care of him and keep him happy and healthy. Now it is up to Daddy and me to take care of Jett and keep him happy and healthy.

The worst part is that the doctor told Daddy he has to stick needles into Jett every day. I think she is crazy. Is that what you do when you love someone? Daddy will do anything for Jett, even if it means following the advice of a crazy lady. Obviously, our Daddy is not playing with a full combination plate. I always disappear real fast when I see Daddy coming with the needle, because I do not want Daddy to stick me too. After Daddy pulls out the needle, then he mixes Jett a smoothie with turkey and tuna drippings. THAT is what you do when you love somebody. And it just so happens that is also the time when I reappear. I have to show Jett how delicious the smoothie is and tell him he should try it.

After Jett eats some of his smoothie, I sit next to him and lick the top of his head. He likes that a lot and it makes him feel better, expecially when little drops of smoothie have landed on his head and need to be cleaned up.

That is all for now.

Love,
-Gregory

P.S. - Auditions for my big Broadway musical have been postponed while we focus on taking care of Jett. For further information on "Hello, Dubai" and my other theatrical ventures, please contact my publicist.

Settling in

So, things have been just swell, settling in here with Daddy and Jett. Jett is a little bit of a bother, but he comes with the territory, so what can I do. Let me start by saying the food in this place could use some improvement. The menu is very limited and the service could be better too. In the mornings, our waiter is extremely slow. How difficult is it to make french toast and sardines? We keep getting the same old fancy feast, from a can. Boring.
Still, the accomodations are quite comfy and our bed is very nice. Jett likes to groom me at bedtime and that is nice too. Last night, after Daddy fell asleep, Jett and I ventured downstairs to have an adventure. There is this big bag of catnip that used to be in the kitchen drawer. Last night, we forced the drawer open in the middle of the night and opened it. Then we tore it open and spread the catnip all over the house. Daddy was very excited when he woke up this morning and found such a nice surprise. After he gave use breakfast (gee, we were really hungry), we went back upstairs and slept all day. Now we are wide awake and thinking about what we can do to entertain ourselves tonight after the human is sleeping.
Gotta run, the pizza is here.
Love,
Gregory

Greetings from Heaven

I just thought I should pop in for a second to wish all of my friends, fans and readers a very Merry Chistmouse. I have been so busy. Who said eternal rest was going to be relaxing? I'm so busy all the time. I may be in Heaven, but I still have a show to do. And do you know what? Most angels have no talent. If you ever heard a real heavenly choir, you'd cover your ears and run screaming for the exits. I have a lot of work to do before this show is ready for prime time.
So, all you little honeys down on Earth, have a wonderful holiday. I'm sure you will be able to see my show when your time comes because unlike that little mess by Andrew Lloyd Webber, THIS cat's show really is now and forever.
Love,
-Figaro
P.S. - Welcome, Gregory. Take good care of my Daddoo and Jett and give my love to Uncle Trabis. Don't touch my pony.

Meet Gregory

Jett has a new little brother. He doesn't know it yet. Gregory is being delivered by the stork next weekend. He's about 9 months old and a total love. He looked so sad and forlorn in the cage at the adoption agency. His foster mom told me he was born in a closet and likes watching TV. His siblings have all been adopted, but it seems clear Gregory was waiting for Jett and me. When I pulled him out of the cage, he melted in my arms and I fell in love. He especially liked having his little feet massaged. Figaro loved feet massages too, so I'm taking that as a sign.
We don't know yet whether Gregory is much of a writer or if he has any musical or theatrical ambitions. We'll find out soon enough what special talents he may have.

Six months

It's been six months since Figaro got his wings. Jett and I still think of him every day and miss him something fierce. His ashes are in a box on our night table next to his toy pony Max, who was a gift from his Uncle Trabis. Jett is particularly lonely. He was never a talker. Until now. I guess he just couldn't get a word in edgewise with Figaro around hogging the limelight. Jett was content to be a featured player. Figaro always said Jett was brilliant in the role of Second Fiddle Player. Over these months, Jett has become quite vocal. He cries when he's alone. Loud whining sounds that stop when I'm with him. It's amazing and heartbreaking. I guess I'm realizing now that while I had a life and a job that took me outside the house on a regular basis, Jett spent every moment of his life with Figaro. So now we're thinking it's time to bring a little brother into the picture. When we meet the right one, we'll know it.

Figaro can never be replaced, of course. He was my soulmate. But there's still more love to share and I know Figaro would want Jett and me to be happy. When I return from a short vacation next week, we'll start scouring the kitty adoption agencies. Wish us luck.

And all of this, just to say it's time to bring this little corner of blogdom back to life. It seems Jett has found his voice and, as it turns out, has quite a lot to say. I'm fairly certain Figaro will also be paying visits from the Great Beyond. We're pretty sure he's hangin' around or at least paying us visits anyway. It's only a matter of time before he takes up his cosmic keyboard and drops some Heavenly pearls of wisdom. I've already received a personal message, advising that MASSACHUSETTS THE HEAVENLY MUSICAL is a huge smash.

And there's just no telling what our new kitty may have to say, once we find him, of course.


Love,
-Michael and Jett

An angel gets his wings

For several months Figaro has been having trouble breathing. He was congested and we had numerous visits to the vet. Initially, we thought it was a sinus infection and treated it with antibiotics. When that didn’t work, we decided to treat it as a viral syndrome with Lysine. He’d have good days and bad days, but the situation just got worse over time. Finally, we went to a specialist who ran more tests and ruled out everything other than lymphoma or carcinoma in his sinus cavity. Confirming the lymphoma/carcinoa diagnosis would require surgery and biopsies. The vet advised that Figaro would require chemo if the diagnosis was confirmed and the expected survival time would probably be about ten to twelve months. Figaro had an extremely happy life and I was not willing to make his last months any more painful for him than absolutely necessary. If the diagnosis was confirmed, I was not going to put him through chemo, so there seemed no point in putting him through surgery to confirm the diagnosis. Instead, we put him on prednisone and more antibiotics. His condition was stable for about a month and then he took a turn for the worse. In a few short days, he lost a great deal of weight and seemed to be in pain. He meowed a lot and could no longer jump on and off the bed without falling. He was feeling miserable and deteriorating a little more each day. Through all of this, Figaro was an absolute sweetheart. Last Thursday, he started bleeding from his nose. It was time. Friday morning, Travis and I took him to the vet and comforted him as he slipped away.

Figaro was bundle of love, even when he felt terrible. That was his nature. He was always a bundle of love. From the day I adopted him, nearly twenty years ago, he watched over me and took care of me. Figaro was my constant source of unconditional love and companionship. He was funny and demanding and needy and incredibly affectionate. It's impossible for me to imagine my life without him. His Uncle Travis and his brother Jett and I will keep him with us in our hearts always.

Good night Figaro, my little bunny. Sweet dreams. I pray we’ll see each other again.

You will always be my sweet, special guardian angel.