A beloved cat, a car, the vet ICU, brave children and husband, tired

I slept fitfully last night. The March was great in many ways, but it was emotional too. There is so much work to be done. And then there are tidbits like this:

The White House Changes Its Comment Line Message to Blame Democrats For the Shutdown
and
A new Trump ad calls Democrats complicit in all murders perpetrated by illegal immigrants.

Both are utterly deplorable and disgraceful and sick. And it's all a lot to process.

In any case, I'd finally settled in to some sort of slumber when I awoke with a start to Tom yelling, "Oh NO!" I sat up, heard Ol run by, asked him where Tom was, and we both raced downstairs. I heard a terrible sound of an animal in terrible pain, and then saw Tom round the corner with a bloody Nutmeg wrapped in a bloody blanket in his arms. 

He had been hit by a car. Thankfully, the driver had stopped and stayed with Nut while a neighbor who knew where Nut lived ran to get us. I am so thankful for the kindness and honesty of near-strangers. Truly, he'd have died alone and in the street had they not helped.

Jack was still asleep, and we had no time to wake him (think hibernating bear), so we jumped in the car and raced to the veterinary ER nearby. As an aside, I am beyond grateful that there is an excellent 24-7 vet ER near us. Oliver was wearing Christmas jammies, Tom was in his pjs and had no shoes on (still clutching Nutmeg as he bled and mewed), and none of us had brushed teeth. Nutmeg was struggling to breathe.

Nutmeg was taken into the ICU immediately. After a while, the doctor emerged and kindly attempted to prepare us to lose him. His head had taken the brunt of the hit, his pupils were dilated and his eyes were going in different directions, he'd lost a rear claw, dirt and skid marks were everywhere, his face was swollen, the front of his nose was scraped off, his jaw was broken and dislocated and an incisor was gone, and he continued to struggle to breathe.

Tom sank to the floor and ultimately had to lie down. He was drenched in sweat. Oliver was pinned to my lap, and I was crying silently. We were all crying. The doctor said they would get Nutmeg as comfortable as possible and then take X-rays to assess his internal organs and any damage to them. Tom steadied himself and went home to get Jack and put on shoes.

In that moment, I looked at my husband -sweaty, pajamas splattered with blood, shoeless- and I thought, marriage is awfully hard but you sure married a good man. A solid man. A man who will scoop his very injured cat from the street and not even think to change out of his pajamas or put on shoes before going to the vet, who cries with you and your children and holds you all tight, and who continues to assert that your cat will make it through. 

All of us were shocked, but Nutmeg's lungs looked ok, and his blood pressure improved. He was given lots of hardcore stuff like ketamine and tucked into an oxygen tank. I can't tell you how wrenching it was to see him, his jaw askew and his mouth unable to close, his face swollen and cut and bloody, IVs and monitors in three of his paws. The boys were so brave.

Oliver and I went back to visit him this afternoon, and I will go again tomorrow whenever his surgery and recovery allows me to. The vet staff said he was an absolute champ and a flirt and a darling love who they expect to survive and heal. The house feels empty and quiet tonight, and I keep looking for him.

I am so very grateful. We all are. It's incredible the love we can feel for animals, how much they enrich and bring joy to our lives. Hug your loved ones, human and furry, and be kind! It makes such a difference.

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Women's March 2018/March On the Polls DC

Left at 8:15 this morning, home just after 5p tonight. I'm tired but it was a great day of resistance and active participation in our democracy. The tenor of this year's March was different than last January's. Then, shocked and worried and desperate for hope, we came together to seek solace and strength in one another.

A year in, the shock has largely worn off. We know what we're dealing with, even when he sinks to new and ever-coarser lows. We have seen the damage being done to our country, our citizens of color, the poor and undocumented among us, our standing in the world, our environment. We woke this morning to a government shutdown.

Today we again came together, to vent our rage, to celebrate the many women who have run and won in local and state elections since trump's inauguration, to thank the women of color who got Doug Jones elected, to look ahead to the women and right-minded men who will run this November, to make clear that we are still here, we are still fighting, and a giant blue intersectional wave is only just beginning to really build its strength. 

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Yet another protest: we march again

Well, tomorrow is another protest. The one year anniversary of the big one; the Women's March. 

2017 Women's March in DC

2017 Women's March in DC

I'm grateful that we have this opportunity, grateful for freedom of expression, the freedom to gather, the freedom to express rage and disbelief and heartbreak in words and action. But, I am also furious. Furious that the United States has gone and is going to shit in so many ways so quickly and so constantly since a:

sexual assaulting
money laundering
stupid bouffanting
adultering
lying
addicted-to-golfing
couldn't-give-a-shit-about presidenting
ignorant-as-fucking
tweeting
reality TVing
small dicking
long tie-ing
small handsing
orange skinning
dictator loving
failed developmenting
hated-by-New Yorkers-ing
Birther-creating
"wall"-building
DACA-n-CHIP-killing
tax "reforming"
environment killing
big game hunting (vicariously)
racisting
McDonalds eating
can't-stop-talking-about-Hillarying
white supremacist-admiring
NRA-money-loving
charity stiffing
no-family-from-Swedening

a-hole won the Electoral College but not the popular vote in 2016. 

As we should all now know, democracy is not something to take for granted. Ane yet I am peevish to the g-damn max about spending yet another day with yet another homemade sign and mesh pack full of trail mix, phone chargers, lip balm, and Metro card hoping against hope that Republicans will find their balls and spines and that RBG and Mueller don't die anytime soon. 

my (double-sided) sign for tomorrow, March 2018

my (double-sided) sign for tomorrow, March 2018

I am angry and tired. And I am tired of being angry and tired. But then again, at least there is hope in this messed up idea that is America, for that is more than many countries have. 

My sign and pack sit at the ready by the front door, and I'm off to bed now. I hope the turnout around the globe tomorrow (and Sunday) is huge, and I hope this November's elections are blue and female tsunamis. In the meantime, I continue to try to do my part. Try to show my sons how to be active participants in an imperfect system that is better than many alternatives. Try to imprint upon their dear souls that working for the good of many, especially the weakest, poorest, and most voiceless among us, is absolutely the way to go. Hoping against current evidence that maybe in the future, justice won't take quite so much rage and effort.