Farewell Mr. Charismatic Furry Pants

Last Monday, January 10^th, we had to euthanize our one of a kind, evil genius cat, Katafanga. Katafanga was born on a dark and stormy night in October 1995 in Woodland, CA. I adopted him as a furry “female” kitten named “Sassy” from Animal Control in Woodland in 1995. He was a character from the start and more than lived up to his original moniker. Although it turned out that he was not a girl, he was indeed, very sassy. Katafanga was adopted as a buddy for both me and my elderly dog Miya who had always lived with cats. Katafanga didn’t mind dogs at all and liked to go on walks with all of our pet dogs through the years.

For those of you that knew Katafanga, you know what a unique individual he was. He was extremely feisty, independent, intelligent, and confident. He owned the world (our world at least) and he knew it. He would bite you if you petted him in a way he didn’t like, he would bite you if you moved while he was laying on you, he would bite you if you forgot to fill his food bowl, and he would bite you if you annoyed him in any way. He loved to play with toys but after a few minutes of play his eyes would dilate and he would stop looking at the toy and start looking at your hand or arm. That was the time to stop playing with him if you wanted to emerge unscathed.

Katafanga was a very wonderful and quirky guy and he brought so much enjoyment to our lives. He is irreplaceable and I miss him every day. He did so many fabulous crazy cat things like hanging in the window of the door to be let in (5 feet up in a wooden door), play fighting with our other cat Kathmandu for hours on their cat palace, eating cat food with his paw so he could keep an eye on things, laying on our chests to keep warm and get petting, kneading his beloved blanky when he was happy. I could write a book just about him and all his wacky ways. If you left a drawer open a centimeter he would reach in with his paws and pull everything out. He would get in the kitchen cabinets and wander around. He used to drag himself along the back of the couch between the couch and the wall with his claws.

We lost him for two weeks when he was a kitten. After several rounds of posting flyers he was eventually returned to us from the home that he had wandered into. When I tearfully greeted him upon his return, he bit me in the face. That’s the kind of guy he was, loving, frightening, independent, a furry genius, and always wanting everything on his own terms.

Katafanga got bone cancer in his face about two months ago and the tumors eventually closed one of his eyes and started to interfere with his breathing. It was terrible to see him not feeling well and we feel we made the right decision to end his life. Even in his final hours he was imperiously inspecting the inside of the car as we waited for the vet and periodically curling up to purr on my lap on his blanky. For all of you that knew, loved, feared, or loved and feared Katafanga, thank you for being his friend. He could always use a good pet while eating or a warm lap to be in charge of. He will be missed.

By the way, this eulogy doesn’t really do him justice. I feel like he could have written it himself and it would have been more like the Gettysburg Address, or the I have a dream speech, or maybe more like Ginsberg’s Howl. Suffice it to say that I miss him like crazy and he can never be replaced.

Visiting Inconceivable

Did you know that I am currently living in Kentucky with my mom and dad?

This weekend as we were driving around in the van after running errands, Lucy started asking us whether dinosaurs would eat us. We tried to explain that dinosaurs aren't around any more at which point she wanted to know where they went and when they were coming back. The whole conversation made me realize how mind bogglingly weird it is to think that there actually used to be 60 foot tall lizards walking around, right here, but now they are all gone. It sounds insane. Needless to say, Lucy wasn't having any of it and we ended up having to tell her that dinosaurs wouldn't eat us because they had to go home to their mom and dad and that they lived far away (I believe I suggested that they lived in Kentucky since this seemed like a state we are unlikely to visit any time in the near future).

Then today I had the privilege of attending the funeral of a science teacher who had worked for our park for fifteen years as an education specialist. I barely overlapped with Arnie Miller in my job. Soon after I started with the park, he retired. I do remember a couple of meetings with him to discuss the education programs at the park and I remember being impressed by his passion, knowledge, and dedication to science education. I went to the service today both because I remember Arnie fondly even if I didn't know him well but also because he was an integral part of the Division of Interpretation for 15 years and I am the Acting Chief so it seemed like a good thing to do.

The service was amazing. Arnie's whole family actually got up and talked about him and what a wonderful person he was. The temple was full of people who clearly loved Arnie and had been touched by his life. Many people talked about how much Arnie had loved nature, what a wonderful teacher he had been, and how devoted to his family he had been. Some of the descriptions of him (curious about everything, great listener, great conversationalist, extremely tolerant human being) reminded me of my own parents. Anyone who thinks communism isn't all bad but that extremism of all kinds is dangerous is o.k. in my book.

There are several things I wanted to say about this experience from my perspective. First, it was the first funeral that I have been to since I had my own kids and having kids put a whole different color to the service. It made me think about how my own children will think about me when I die and reminded me to strive to be a good parent to them and fill their lives with good memories that will be a comfort to them after I am dead.

Second, one of the things that people said about Arnie was that he never said anything bad about anyone. And I thought, "Wow, that is amazing. That is something to strive towards - putting less negativity out into the universe." One of Arnie's grandsons also mentioned that Arnie's last advice to him was "Stay close to nature. Enjoy nature. Stay close to your family. And forgive any bad things that have happened in your past." Sounds like pretty darn good advice.

Finally, one of the last parts of the funeral was the actual placing of dirt on the coffin at the cemetery. And let me tell you, this was no symbolic small scattering of a few particles of sand, this was hefting of full shovels full of heavy dirt onto a wooden coffin. It made an amazing spooky sound. It turns out that helping to bury your loved ones is actually a Mitzvah (a command from God) and was one in which most of us took part (I hefted my three shovels full of earth into the grave). And it is very serious. The family actually stayed behind after the ceremony to finish burying Arnie. It was extremely intense and was a VERY visceral confirmation of the temporariness of all things. Somehow the sound of that dirt hitting the coffin really drove home the reality that Arnie's body was in there and that all of us would end up, one way or another, in the earth.

If you know me, (and you probably do since I doubt anyone that doesn't know me is reading this) then you know that I have big issues with death. Primarily that I would prefer not to, die that is. Somehow this funeral, coming so close after my dinosaur discussion, just emphasized that human life is full of inconceivable truths. No wonder people believe all manner of crazy things when you think about all of the inconceivable things that are actually TRUE. You mean dinosaurs used to roam the earth? No way. You mean people have actually walked on the moon? No way. You mean I, and everyone I know and every living thing I have encountered will one day cease to exist? No way.

Dinosaurs and Death. It was an interesting visit to the Inconceivable, but I wouldn't want to live there.

Something From Nothing

I wrote this after Lucy was born. Another Boomvang 3 article.

To Re-CaP
You may recall from previous editions of Boomvang that I am not a big fan of death. I could do without it really. Decidedly not a fan. Well, while I am still not a fan, I am coming to some sort of an understanding with death. To re-cap from before, so we can all start on the same page, my issue with is death is, well really there are many, but one of the major issues is one day you’re here, eating tofu chili dogs, sitting on your dog-fur encrusted sofa, enjoying an episode of Sports Night, and then ka-bam! no more you. Here today gone tomorrow is not my favorite concept.

Trying to Get Along
So here’s what happened to make me feel a bit better about the here today gone tomorrow aspect of existence. I was walking around, minding my own business, when ka-bam! I had a baby. So it wasn’t really like that, but you get the gist. All my life there has just been me inside my body, and then all of a sudden, there was a whole other person in there. A person with a heartbeat, and feet to kick me, and arms to hit me. Where did this person come from??? I understand biologically what happens, the egg, the sperm, the meiosis, lots of mitosis, chromosomes coming together, little lizard looking thing in my uterus (ontogeny recapitulates phylogeny), yadda yadda. But seriously, one minute there was nothing, and then one ejaculation later, there was a whole new person on the planet (let’s not get into the whole when does life begin debate – just suffice it to say that at one point there was me and mitch and cleo and katafanga and kathmandu, and then at one point Lucy got added into the mix).

So how does this relate to a fear of death you say? Is it that all the crying and poopy diapers made me want to die??? No, of course not. Is it that sleep-deprivation made me feel like I was already dead??? No, of course not. It’s like this, if birth is something from nothing, then it makes sense to me that in order to have something from nothing, you’ve also got to have nothing from something. And that is where death comes in, nothing from something. I wouldn’t want to live in a world without something from nothing so I guess I am going to have to make peace with nothing from something.

Can I just say this though, could all those scientists working hard on longevity get busy because I don’t want to become nothing from something until a really, really, really, really long time from now.