Wild Monkeys!

Our beloved Dalilah, aka Pokey-Paw, a Chartreux cat, is ill with a severe bladder infection, right on the heels of another one a few weeks back. She's fifteen and we've had many health scares over the last six years, so we're certainly sensitive to the possibility of saying goodbye to her this time. But subcutaneous fluids and antibiotics have restored her appetite, which had been scarily absent, so we'll see. This time we have the complexity of having a three-year-old who's lately been learning a lot about the natural world, including death, in the picture. On the other hand, it could be a really healthy, positive thing for her, handled correctly. Anyway, we're all just trying to keep Dalilah alive, or, failing that, comfortable.

Update: she is doing much better, thankfully.

I'm down here in Eugene to give a presentation at the Oregon Criminal Defense Lawyers' Association Spring continuing legal education seminar. Things are going fine in general. But this morning D called to say that our best-laying hen, Mabel, had died during the night of an unknown illness. It's hard to be away from the family with that news, but I have to focus and give my talk. WD is too young to understand death even a little, but D and I are sad.

Update -- my dad, who recently retired to Portland (worth several posts in itself) is there taking care of WD so D can get some rest (both D and WD have a cold, and it's hitting D harder, which is normal, unfortunately), and he wins massive grandfather points for burying Mabel. D explained it to WD in an age-appropriate way. She said that the chicken's spirit had flown away and that burying the chicken's body was like planting a seed and it would make the laurel trees grow better (WD is really into gardening). I wish I could have been there, though.