Hiding from the Witnesses


It’s beautiful mid-July Saturday morning. The skies are clear and temperature is pleasingly warm. The kind of morning that would inspire a nice bike ride or hike, if one were so inclined. For myself, it inspires reading a book in my sun-room and maybe nodding off to sleep.

But, where am I instead? I’m in the dark, back bedroom hiding from the impending swarm of Jehovah’s Witnesses. If I’m anywhere in the front of the house, I could be spotted and then out of cowardliness be forced into rudeness by not answering the door. Sure, I could answer the door and say “no thanks, I have a perfectly good religion I’m happy with.” Sure, that would be the adult thing to do. But, instead I’m hiding.

I read recently that the JWs had made a pledge to knock on every damn door here in the Bay Area. Good for them. I admire that persistence. But somehow I didn’t think that it would include mine. Yet there they were walking up my street. At first I thought it was just a group of well-dressed black folks on their way to a party, or perhaps on their way home from church. But, it’s Saturday. And they were not all heading in the same direction. And they all appeared to be carrying a stack of pamphlets. Run! Hide!

Yes, it’s silly. But, I think I’m happy back here in the back bedroom for a while.

On another topic: rumors of my cat’s demise have been greatly exaggerated. Last Sunday I was a complete and total wreck. I feared the worse. She was giving me that 1,000 yard stare and I felt that look was saying “enough is enough, mom.” So, I contacted a vet who does home euthanasia to discuss scheduling and rates. $200. Cash. She said she has done over 5,000 home euthanasia procedures. Damn! She has made a million bucks in cold hard cash putting animals to sleep. Talk about making a killing. Anyway, she seemed perfectly nice and suggested some things I could do now to make sure I can properly memorialize her when she is gone. But, when she asked when I wanted to do it, I couldn’t. I wouldn’t.

I also consulted my landlord, who is a medical intuitive who works with animals. She was just outside my place and I decided to see if I could get a freebie reading (and she’s actually a very sweet and empathic person). She saw no more than 4 more days for the little one, and that continuing the antibiotic treatment was going to be futile.

She is walking again and seems to regaining some joie de vivre. I was thrilled this morning when she actually made an effort to jump up into my lap while I was reading. Sure, with all the kidney damage, she may not have much longer even after she recovers from the infection. But, for now, I’m happy.

Geez, where are those damn JWs? Maybe the garden Buddha scared them off.


2 responses »

  1. I had a cat once. His name was Max and he grew up with me, and he died when I was still too young to understand the true meaning of the ultimate and final departure. He was euthanised.
    We (my family) now own two cats, Zelda and Kiara. I am departing for university soon and I know that the latter of the two will still sit an yowl outside my door when I am gone.
    But anyway, I feel for you, and may you enjoy the rest of your time together however long that may be.

    Oh, and on JWs; I live in the UK and so I am blessed not to have to so ‘politely’ put up with them.

    Intriguing post, may come back later. Sure hope I remember to. – Matt

  2. Thanks for the kind thoughts, Matt. It’s amazing how these little creatures just curl up in your heart, and the very thought of not having them there is devastating. Good luck at university. – M

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