The Glory And The Pity

Posted on by pmdello

“It’s a messed up world, but I love it anyway.” 

Greg Brown from Two Little Feet

Stairs and leaves.

Successive storms stagger into the valley. Swollen rivers rush from the foothills to the Columbia. On the street, fallen leaves coalesce in soggy stews of cellulose. They stick to the shoes of holiday shoppers. Downtown, the greasy residue adorns the aisles of stores.

I scowl at winter’s clumsy arrival. Its disheveled cold is the unwanted guest at the party of my life. To counteract my humbug attitude, I attend to chores. Leaves need to be raked. Birds need to be fed.

I hang suet cages. I spread a cup or two of mixed seed on the ground. When temperatures plummet, I’ll paint peanut butter on the trunk of our flowering cherry. Meanwhile, sparrows, chickadees, and nut hatches hover and flit away.

The migratory pattern of some birds identify our yard as a cold weather oasis. I herald the return of red-headed woodpeckers. They are diplomats who bring calm to the feeding frenzy. They perch with poise. They don’t bully or squawk. They wait.

Under a pearl grey sky at the waterfront.

I miss the absent sun. But, I continue meditative walks at the waterfront. Under pearl grey skies, waterfowl dive for food near the river’s shore. On wet days I open a bright red umbrella. Perhaps it cheers the ubiquitous dog walkers.

Exercise and fresh air soften my mood. I adapt. I accept the season’s dreariness. It, too, has a purpose. Life, I remind myself, is not all about me.

* * * * * * *

Israel and Hamas … the glory and the pity. With the advent of winter, this conflict attains another level of brutality. We read the headlines. We listen to pundits. They analyze the dispute. We view the graphic photos. We search for a meaning to this war. Yet, still, we don’t understand. Why kill each other? Are we to choose a side and condone the violence? The unimaginable scale of suffering smothers empathy: the loss of loved ones, the abrupt displacement from the security of home, and the dread of what’s next. 

* * * * * * *

Spanky helped me write my latest song, The Glory and the Pity.

In closing, for 2023, I must acknowledge the passing of my feline companion, Spanky. He was an adorable nuisance. He didn’t worry about the meaning of life. His philosophy seemed to be: when in doubt, take a nap. I admired his bravado, his self confident strut when returning from a night’s adventure.

His voice was annoying. He woke me most mornings. Of course, it was his timetable, not mine. He hid from all visitors, except our oldest son, who he allowed to take him for rides on his wheelchair. When he appeared in our life in 2010, he was a brawny 16 pounds of tabbiness. At the end, there was a hobble to his gait. His coat lost its lustre. He shed copious amounts of fur. His weight had dropped to 12 pounds due to kidney failure. 

A local veterinary doctor allowed me to witness his final moments. A sedative followed by a dose of barbituates saw him cross peacefully from life to death. I buried him in our front yard. There, he enjoyed naps among the wildflowers that I sow each spring. Farewell Spanky, my sensei, my friend.

Now, a song, The Glory and The Pity.

18 thoughts on “The Glory And The Pity”

  1. I’m so sorry Spanky is not in your life anymore. You were great companions. Happy Holidays John from Mexico.
    ❤️ Barb

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  6. I too am a 12 year multiple myeloma survivor. Two stem cell transplants, auto and allo, in 2011, treated at Seattle Cancer Care/Fred Hutchinson in Seattle. I reside in Alaska and am taking Ninlaro as a maintenance therapy. I am encouraged by your musings and thinking CAR-T cell therapy will be my next option if MM rears its’ ugly head again. Enjoy the holidays, may they bring peace and happiness to you and your family. Adele

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    1. Hi Adele. Thanks for commenting. Yes, when the time comes CAR-T is an excellent option. I’m 12 months out from the procedure and still drug free. Good luck to you! 🙏

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  7. So sorry to hear that Spanky had to leave. Thank you for sticking with him to the very end. Lovely kitty, now napping at the rainbow bridge, one eye open, surreptitiously watching, like cats do… Love. XXX. Lena

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  9. Beautifully written, as always.
    And my condolences on Spanky. I know you two had a strong bond for many years.
    Savor the season, dear friend. May a lovely light dusting of snow soon cover the messy parts and get your spirits up for a brand new year. ❤️

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  10. Oh John, I am so incredibly sorry to hear about the passing of Spanky, my handsome godson…We had the same thing happen recently with our 19-year-old Pavarotta (she didn’t meow…she sang, hence the name). Like you, we were with her until the end, as she fell into her forever sleep at the vet’s office. So hard, though…
    Anyway, a big hug to you and your family. Spanky was a very lucky boy and had a great life with you. Love, Margaret

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    1. Hi Margaret! We have a long virtual friendship, sharing both MM and cats. I read about Pavarotta and feel your sorrow for both her and Spanky. Yes, my big boy came into our house very much with thanks to your encouragement. Fourteen years ago! I think of you often with your bi-lingual cats. Don’t know if I have it in me to be adopted by another feline. For the moment, no. But, time will tell. Meanwhile, enjoy the season’s many delights of mistletoe and catnip.

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