And suddenly things aren’t so bad, listening to Toby’s rumbling purr. It’s like listening to Paul Robeson singing ‘Old Man River’ — deep, rumbling and full of meaning.

Toby’s doing remarkably well, considering the cancer is still there inside him — somewhere. We still don’t know where it is, growing slowly, killing his strong body and spirit. For now, we seem to be in stasis — neither getting worse, nor better.

At his last checkup he was doing well. The chemo treatment seems to be slowly shrinking the swollen lymph node in his neck, or at least not letting it grow larger. After consult with the oncology vet we have moved to check-ins every two months. That saves stress on Toby (and us) for each drive we don’t have to go nearly two hours south for a visit. But we still have to buy 2 months’ worth of chemo treatment at a time (around $700 every two months.)

I’ve been thinking a lot about the cost through all of this. It is not an insubstantial sum. It could be a lot by the time this is over. Can we keep doing this, month to month? Should we? We have six other cats, two dogs and a rabbit to care for at the same time. 

Pete, the dog (‘Stinky’ as Toby not-so-affectionately calls him) is fifteen now. With doggie dementia. And knees on his back legs that are pretty much shot. Bacteria on his feet and in one ear, we’ve been treating him also to vet visits and bills. Is it worth it?

We would have it no other way. Petey, like Toby, is a part of this family.  For a week, we slept in the living room on a very cold and uncomfortable air mattress so we could keep him company, while he was unable to climb the stairs. His medicines for pain and inflammation are kicking in now and he is back to climbing (no, I’d say hopping) up the stairs.  His back legs work in unison to make it, stair by stair, to the second floor. He knows this is where his pack is at night and he has to be there. Look up ‘loyal’ in the dictionary and there you’ll find a picture of Pete looking back, (hopefully not the one with the cone of shame….)

And yet, in the last month, I worry. Constantly.

We have entered a dangerous world of fools and sycophants threatening our very existence. Programs that are funded by you and me to help humans in their time of need have been taken away on capricious whims of rich asses who do not care who they hurt.  Even those who once supported them are going to lose these essential lifelines.

These fools are the worst of humanity. Why are they here when others, more worthy than they are, slowly die with lack of medications, food and clean water?

It's only been a month — there is much, much more to come. Will we make it? Will we be who we were only one or two months ago? I have to believe we will. I have hope. I believe we know where we came from over the last two hundred and fifty years. That spirit won’t die at the hands of thugs and idiots. We have each other... and we have our furry friends. 

And yet…

And yet….

 I feel better already.