Tempe, Arizona: Winter Wonderland

Here I am in the desert, choking back the fumes of the SUV's and enjoying the poisonous fruits of the american dream. Jeez. The amerikans sure know how to consume. It's all spend, spend, spend. Not that I do not engage. I say, when in Mesa, spend like the now financially bankrupt city. But try to adopt a cat? That is a challenge. I thought there would be a robust adopter's market for senior cats in need of a happy home. Apparently you have to have a social worker and financial report as well as blood work before you can even get on the list.

Ok, that's a bit of an exaggeration, but it is much harder than I anticipated to pick up an old, on-its-last-legs, cat for my elderly mother-in-law to replace her much missed Kit-Kat, who shuffled off the mortal coil last month. I've contacted 3 shelters. In three jurisdictions - Mesa, Phoenix, and Gilbert. Each shelter's website gives a thousand reasons to donate a thousand dollars to the rescue and happy home finding for stray and unwanted cats, but can't come up with a live pet. They are all somehow, mysteriously, "fostered" out.

The shelter we visited today could have been part of a set for a Clint Eastwood movie when he was deep in his Mariposa days. Old, rundown house, masquerading as an animal shelter. I saw one live dog and quite a few wild birds in the tree in the junk-strewn yard. And several staff attached to telephones. We filled in a profile not unlike those I have filled in for medical treatment. How many people live in the house? Is it noisy? Busy? Are there people at home? Other pets? How old are you? What happened to your last pet? Provide an affadavit to prove that the euthanization of your last pet was as a last resort and not just due to the inconvenience of changing its drip every 4 hours.

Stuff like that.

Meanwhile, I have been able to spend copious amounts of money on unnecessary gift items. And my mother-in-law, who thinks she is 90 (and why not? She's close enough) is slipping in and out of lucid thought. But she is very, very sweet and amiable. And the home support Christine arranged has turned out well. That is the news from this end of the universe.

I miss my girls. The vet from Rupert called today while I was being turned down again as a blood donor (no, not because of any reasons you are thinking... it is the low iron thing). They had a spot open up to have Phoebe relieved of those women's parts that I have hoped to be relieved of. Unfortunately, I was unable to present Phoebe for surgery in the requisite 30 minutes.

That's what's going on here. How about you?