So Long, Rufus

We said goodbye to Rufus three weeks ago. Rufus was our perfect cat and was with us for 16+ years. Over the last few months his kidney functioning declined. He became weaker and was less and less able to care for himself. When it reached the point where he was moving about very little, and hardly eating or responding, we could no longer believe that he was enjoying life. It was time to let him go.

Rufus was the first and oldest of our three cats. He was over two years old when we got him. The others arrived as kittens, one at a time over the following months. And one of our first surprises was that Rufus not only adjusted to each of them pretty quickly, but he took to pinning them down and grooming them, whether they wanted it or not. But he was a very gentle and tolerant head of household. Mawa, our second, was testy and demanding. Twitchy, the baby, extremely skittish and wary. But Rufus was always friendly, even-tempered and curious. While Mawa and Twitchy lived in a state or perpetual warfare, Rufus rose above it all, only rarely expressing his annoyance at their shenanigans and staying on good terms with both.

Rufus was in fact the most unflappable cat we’ve ever known, the quintessential cool cat indeed. Nothing much bothered him, and he was always confident, secure and comfortable in his own skin.

We got him from a Pet Value store, where Ponczka found him, full grown, caged and awaiting adoption. She’d always wanted a “big, Orange Cat. Rufus wasn’t very big, but he otherwise fit the bill. His unusual degree of imperturbableness was displayed during that first ride home. I started up the car. He sniffed around a bit, then climbed to where he could peer out the window. And after awhile, he curled up in a seat and had himself a nap.

Rufus was like that about everything. The vet? No problem. Racoons in the back yard? He ignored them, and they returned the favor. Strangers crowding into the house, making noise and spilling drinks? Just a few extra laps to curl up in. He always looked up at us like he knew us through and through and he had not a single doubt that we were thrilled to hang out with him. Our laps and necks, and backs when we were in bed, were his always available lounging spaces, as were our work surfaces and the keyboards of our computers. He was King of a small kingdom and all was right in his world.

We got Rufus in our second year as a couple, and shortly after Ponczka lost Maggie, her dog of fourteen years. She imagined that it would be easy to maintain some emotional detachment from a cat. I’d had a few cats, so knew better. Every cat – like every human being – is a unique creation, with personality and character. Rufus was so easy to love because he himself seemed to have no barriers against us. Never any wariness or fear. He moved through the world with untroubled curiosity. We always had the feeling that Rufus knew us, our ways and our needs. He seemed to love us as much as we loved him. He was a great companion.

There’s not much else to say, except that we’ll miss Rufus and will always remember him.

Shotputs, Quarantines and Rising to the Moment

              I remember very little about The Peloponnesian War, the history by Thucydides that I studied in my first year at the Phillips Exeter Academy. The history covers the thirty year conflict between the Athenian and the Spartan city states, during the Fifth Century B.C. What I do remember, if only well enough to paraphrase, is the historian’s concept that we get to know human beings best when they are most challenged, that during times of high danger, violence, death and stress, we reveal who we are.

              One of the best things about going to Exeter was being challenged in a wide variety of new ways, and so discovering new parts of myself. That included my inner athlete. In my family, Big Brother Rhett was the Athlete, while I was the Bookworm. And I only really learned I had a decent athleticism when I was not only a starter on the varsity football team, but also the co-Captain of the track and field team.

              Track and field is a pretty individualized sport, so as captain there wasn’t much for me to do. Except win. I was pretty good at heaving the shotput and I went through the entire winter season winning. Until the season-ending meet against historic rival Andover, that is. During an early round of tosses, Andover’s third-ranked shot-putter surpassed his previous career best by about a foot. It was one of those perfect alignments of angle, thrust and adrenalin that even the inexpert stumble into every now and then, and his put landed him just beyond my own thus-far leading mark.

              I’d made many puts during the course of the season that would give me a win, both in competition and in practice sessions. But though this didn’t even approach a dangerous situation, it was a moment of great stress for me, personally. I was expected to win. And my team was counting on me. But in this moment, when my character would be revealed, I choked! I tensed up, began to over-think the situation. And I couldn’t block out the gleeful cheering of Andover’s home crowd, peering down from the overhead running track, excited at the prospect of the upset. I can still remember putting up my final shot. My form was fine, but the over-thinking made me tense and slow. The shot didn’t have a chance. And I’ll never erase the memory of the cheer that went up when the metal sphere thudded into the sandpit, landing pitifully short.

              It was a low point in my life. I realized that I wasn’t and had never been the person to fly into a conflict or challenge loose and eager and confident, determined to seize the day and ready to deliver my best. I was depressed for days. But since it remains one of the worst of my life’s emotional ditches, I gladly accept it as a major marker. And the great thing about the moment was the insight I gained into how I’m put together, and that I’ve been able to learn and grow from that insight.

              I’m looking out at this strange world we’re all in now and I’m realizing what a terrible challenge it will present to so many of us. I think of people who need to go to work if they want to feed their families, and who face the decision of whether to go into an unsafe workplace. I think of the hospital staffers who are considering quitting because they have children and parents they fear they will endanger. I think of those whose businesses and careers have come to a screeching halt, who will have to face whatever stark compromise or sacrifice they are called upon to make. Many are finding themselves tested in ways they couldn’t have imagined a month ago.

              And here I sit, so blessed that I have no such impossible challenges to face just now. Not that there isn’t one just around the corner.

              Among all those others being challenged, I’m also thinking of the politicians and government officials, and the calls they are having to make, the calls they may be avoiding having to make. And all those who desperately want these decisions to fall a certain way, but are powerless to affect them, except by lifting their voices or tweeting their tweets.

              Just tonight, I hear reports of a couple of actions being considered that I have opinions about. I’m not directly involved in either, but isn’t one of the things we’re learning that everything each of us does is connected to all the rest of us?

              I hear that Trump is considering sealing off New York City to suppress the spread of COVID 19. My general take on things is that Trump is a fool, but I actually agree with him on this one. And I was surprised to hear that Cuomo immediately came out against it. In the last weeks it’s been Cuomo relentlessly pushing Trump to take more drastic and assertive action, but now he’s resisting it. It strikes me as an obvious next step, and parallel to the extreme but effective actions taken in China, Italy and elsewhere.

              There is also some consideration being given to extending the shutdown of businesses in some sectors, and the question of which businesses should be considered essential and therefore exempt. An opinion was expressed that barbershops in the Black community should be considered essential, as community gathering spaces, and I’m totally opposed to that position. As true as it is that particular businesses have an elevated importance in some communities as compared to others, this decision should be made based purely on the danger of infectious contact and the utility of the business. Seems to me that while a plumber, keeping the water flowing and able to work alone, is appropriately considered essential, a barber needing to touch each client to provide that haircut can be reasonably expected to sacrifice trade during this crisis.

              These are questions that must be decided as impartially and as practically as possible, and our communities must be willing to forego political and pressure considerations, at least at this stage. Later on, in the recovery process, the playing field ought to be leveled as much as possible, such that those who have the greatest need are the most supported, after which those who have suffered loses can be compensated. Will these choices and considerations be weighed fairly and ethically? Sadly to say, probably not. The character of the nation and of we individuals that make it up, is imperfect, and this crisis will reveal many of our flaws. Let us hope, as Thucydides would have it, that we observe, learn and continue to grow as we slog our way forward.

Witnesses, Passengers, Creators

              The World is changing, and we are witnesses, passengers and creators of it all. Life is stretching into realms our imaginations did not take us, and we may become what we never imagined becoming, and do what we never dreamt of doing. A beautiful time. With terrifying possibilities.

              Sometimes I consider the statistical improbability that I, We, the World even exists. Think of that Big Bang, the heat and the power that it generated, and the billions of years that followed it. And the improbability of a tiny chunk of matter finding itself in precisely the cosmic balance to permit a set of near constants to occur for a mere mili-instant of time, so that a particular set of biochemical factors might coincide, so as to give rise to the faint possibility of life.

              And that this life should so endure the tortuous route of mutation and natural selection as to bring we human beings about. And that among the billions of us, your particular daddy sperm should avoid entanglements with potential other eggs to make its way toward your particular mama egg, overcoming the competition of hundreds of thousands of rivals.

              Isn't it a wonder that you and I are even here?

              And this is where we start. This is the settled end of the mystery of our Lives. But, with so many improbabilities and impossibilities at our backs, can we doubt that there are a few still ahead?

              Whatever it is that scholars will be analyzing and dissecting and arguing over fifty years from now is unfolding in this instant, before our doubting and cynical eyes. Even we can’t believe it, while it’s happening to us . We absolutely don’t understand it. At some future point it will all be merely something that happened a long time ago, like the Spanish Flu was to us last month – dry, distant, unimaginable, and with little to teach us here today.

              But here we are with our frenetic, exploding, perpetual motion societies shut down. Facing a challenge we don’t quite know the shape of.

              So does it make sense to think ahead while keeping absolutely loyal to what we think we already know? That might be like taking a whip and reins into your new Model T in 1920, or sharpening a pencil and grabbing an eraser as you sat down to compose on your new Smith-Corona word processor in 1990. There are lots of things that may never return to 'normal'.

              But it’s so hard to replace old thinking. Because, what to replace it with? The new stimuli are just coming into view, the new data still being harvested. It may reveal some of the gaps (new gaps, not just the ones we’re already stumbling over), the oversights, the miscalculations and false assumptions in our awareness and thinking and planning. But it won’t catch all of them.

              There’s so much uncertainty ahead.

              But this isn’t a bad thing at all. Because uncertainty is a constant in our lives all the time, except that we do such a good job of not seeing it and pretending it isn’t. The unplanned and the unexpected is constantly with us, but because its instances are overwhelmingly minute and unimportant (the store’s out of our cereal, we encounter a friend on the bus, a shoelace comes untied) they are easy to dismiss.

              Maybe this crack in the routine of the entire world will jar more of us into recognizing that change is the potent and constant force it is, and that we aren’t only passive witnesses, or passengers being carried along against our will. We are the creators of so much of the change we live with, individually and collectively. Yet, so often our efforts are aimed at preventing the changes we fear rather than creating and shaping those that could fulfill us. We’re so afraid of the unknown. And now, the unknown is crashing down on our lives with such force, and in so many interconnected ways. It may shake us so much that there will be little left of the familiar to cling to. And what then? How will we face up to that reality?

 [KO1]