Shumi, RIP

Shumi was a good cat. We got her as a kitten, 13 years ago, in Durham. I remember that back then she was a wild thing. She would climb the curtains, the screen door, my clothes in the closet. She would also fetch like a dog. I used to eat KitKat chocolate bars and drink coffee. I would crumple the tinfoil wrappers into a ball; if I tossed them Shumi would fetch them and bring them back.

When we moved west, she lived her first years in danger, because in the same cove lived a dog, Max, who was a cat killer. Well, it turns out that she outlived Max.

With the years, she became more and more affectionate. Her purr was barely audible in her first years, but with time it became louder and louder. It eventually became a full-fledged purr. By the end, she was sleeping at the foot of my bed almost every night. I would get up to go to the bathroom, and she would follow me there. I'd head to the couch in the piano room for a puzzle and a coffee, and she'd be right there, at my feet or sometimes on my lap.

I always liked to believe that she loved me the most, because I understood that her worldview was essentially selfish. She wanted things her way, and so I never forced her to do anything or be anywhere against her will. I was also the one who changed her litter, just for the record.

My daughter didn't know life without her. When we brought Iz back from the hospital, her first bed was a laundry basket. I remember Shumi hissing at her! Soon enough, though, they became sisters. Shumi was one-year old when Iz was born. Shumi was relatively tolerant with Isabel. She would let herself be wheeled around in a baby stroller, she would put up with being locked in Iz's room. The hours that those two spent together!! The scratches on Iz's arms from the occasions that Shumi had simply had enough! I think they loved each other like sisters!

Many were the nights when I woke up at 3:00 a.m. to the sound of scratching cat paws. I would let Shumi out of Iz's room, whose door had been shut to keep the cat captive.

She was tolerant, but she was also the queen of the house. She was absolutely disdainful of Fidget. It was her house and she merely tolerated the dog. In fact, a week or so before she died, she decided to chill for awhile on Fidget's mat. What a cat!

My wife always said that she went to the shelter in search of a short-haired male, and came back with a long-haired female; but I knew when I first saw her that Shumi was the cat for us. Her death was very hard on Nilo, who really loved that cat.

She died on January 21. Iz and Nilo were not yet back from DC, where they had gone to witness the inauguration of Barack Obama. Shumi had shown almost no signs of illness. The only thing was that she wasn't eating much those last few days. I had taken Fidget for a walk, and when I got back, I was playing the piano for awhile. I decided to wash the dishes. I went into the TV room to fire up the computer to listen to Pandora as I washed. Shumi seemed to be sleeping on the couch. I went to her to show her a little affection, and when I started to pet her, I realized that she had died.

It may sound overly sentimental or excessively dramatic, but I hope one day to die in the same way, without extended illness, and endless trips to the doctor. Healthy one week and dead the next. That seems to me to be death with dignity.

Rest in Peace, Shumi, we all loved you!


Back in Durham, before my hair was thin and gray

Fidget

She's not the smartest of dogs, nor is she the most obedient, but she has a heart of gold. Photo by Pavel Wlosok.

PRINCE!!

And only twelve dollars. I remember he was wearing high heels, and he jumped off a huge speaker cabinet, landed on his feet and kept on dancing. Wow. Just wow.



The warm-up act was Vanity 6. It was the "1999" Tour, if I remember correctly. I did a bit of research on the internet and see that the songs he likely played were: "Controversy," "Sexuality," "Lets Work," "Do Me Baby," "Lets Pretend We're Married," "How Come U Dont Call Me Anymore," "Lady Cab Driver," "Little Red Corvette," "Dirty Mind," "International Lover," and "1999."

Upside Down

Lying in bed the other night, drinking decaffeinated coffee and working on a sudoku, I had no idea that I would soon have to be dealing with deputy sheriffs, state troopers, shocked drivers. I probably should have figured as much when I heard the screech of tires followed by a loud thud.
This is what I saw in the front yard.

Amazingly, the driver, who was wearing his seat belt, walked away and was not seriously hurt.

But I don't think he will be driving this car any more.

So, kids, the moral of the story is SLOW DOWN. Surely what happened was that the kid was going way too fast around the curve, he drifted into the other lane, a car was coming, he overcorrected, lost control, the ditch sent him flying, and the car rolled.

I didn't finish the puzzle, much less the coffee.

More photos of Tyler and me playing saxophones

By hook or by crook, I managed some studio time at the U's fancy schmancy studio (Randall, one of my students, is a music production major). I played piano on a tune I wrote ("The Mitten," a.k.a. Mary Ellen). Wells laid down some electric bass, Randall did the drumming, and Tyler and I put the saxes over the top of it. The sax playing was last Tuesday. Tyler did the soloing, and I played harmony on the head. Randall set it up like I was talking to my criminal brother during visitation at the prison. "Tyler, you're blowing like a moth*^f**k%r, but why'd you have to rob that bank?"

Granted, I look pretty cool in this photo, but I wish I had the chops to back up the look!
This man DOES have the chops. He blew some sweet stuff that night!
Thanks, Randall, for setting this up!

Monday Night at Guadalupe Cafe (11-3-08)

Me and Tyler

I was looking forward to the jazz jam at Guadalupe. I practiced, so as not to make a fool of myself, called almost all of the tunes ("Freddie the Freeloader," "In a Sentimental Mood," "Doxy," "Chelsea Bridge," "Cantaloupe Island"), brought charts for everybody, and played about as well as I am capable. Mary Ellen just lost her dad less than two weeks ago, so the fellas also played Horace Silver's "Song For My Father." Everybody was sounding good, especially Tyler and Preston, on guitar. But hardly anybody was there to listen. Oh Well.

Muck

...was a nickname given to me by one of my basketball mates back in the late 70s. I don't remember the provenance of the tee shirt. I still play that Gibson Grabber Bass once in awhile. Photo courtesy of Jim Dandy.