Sometimes Life is Like Getting Punched in the Face

Late Wed. night I stumbled home happily from the bar to find a series of heart wrenching voice mails from my girlfriend. Turned out her one yr. old cat, Rocket, had gotten in a fight with neighborhood cats, had his ear torn, and had died while under anesthetic at the vet. Rocket won my heart early on while dating Sarah, given that he was a feisty, funny dude who liked to be carried around and wrestled with. More dog than cat sometimes, we'd chase each other around the house until I, exhausted, gave up. I remember waking up in the middle of one dark February night, suffering from that deep and unnerving ennui/worry that can seep into your heart around 3 A.M., for good reason or none at all, and finding Rocket awake and roaming the halls. I picked him up in my arms and held him, comforted simply by his furry purring presence.

But now he's gone. just like that. For a beautiful Rocket eulogy, check out Sarah's blog.

Also, last night we had dinner with friends and I learned that a cheerful friend to all, the sunshiny Amy T., had been mugged recently and punched in the face so hard it split her lipped, broken her little Amy T nose,knocked her teeth around her jaw, and left her unconscious on a rain soaked sidewalk. She's doing better now, but she's still wearing braces, still has some stitched up spots.

All this has reminded me of one thing: Life does not care about you. Life is life. You walk the earth by chance, or luck, or the whim of some mad god. You can do what you think is best and right, and good for you, but in the end do not be surprised when it is taken from you. In the meantime gather what late night comfort you can, while you can. Amy T's alive, after all, and that is a good thing.