I feel like I have whiplash. Earlier this week, we were going to Greece next Tuesday. Then our 20-year-old cat Jamie, who's been with us since she was 8 weeks old, fell ill with major heart and kidney issues. We feared the worst, but after an overnight in the hospital and the right drugs, she was much improved and the problems seemed manageable for perhaps six months.
As I read recently, hope can be a bastard.
We cancelled our trip to be with her. Yet less than two days later, she went into a fast decline and we had to put her to sleep. She's buried in the backyard under a blue-flowering bush next to Chrissie, our 18-year-old cat who left us only last fall.
The Greece trip is on again so Kelly Say Surf week is no longer moot, but it seems unimportant, even trivial. I'd gladly trade Greece to have Jamie back again for even a little while longer.
I surfed this morning at the Pier and yesterday in Mission Beach with Steve. Tomorrow I think I'll just go for a lap swim and let the frothing masses claim the over-hyped south swell that's filling in.
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