Goombas, anyone?

Yes, I'm performing at a club called Goombas this Wednesday night, and from what I've heard, I will be praying quite a lot during my performance.

People have been known to heckle there, and hecklers just don't give me the warm fuzzies, you know?

True, some comics relish the opportunity to rip into heckle hounds, but I'm not one of them. I don't rip. Into. Anything.

With the possible exception of a bag of baked chips. (I'm on WW, remember?)

So, if you can't make it to Goombas this Wednesday--and it's a school night, so I perfectly understand if you can't--please do think kind, heckle-free thoughts for yours truly.

I'll report on the show Thursday, unless it requires more than one day to digest....

On the home front, on Saturday we received some bad news regarding our last cat, Oatmeal. His kidneys are failing, so tomorrow we're learning how to give him fluids in a procedure that will also entail quite a bit of conversation with a higher power of some sort. (It involves a needle, need I say more?)

This cat has been a source of frustration as well as sweetness, as anyone who knows me can attest. I've never been a cat person (I'm very allergic, for one thing), but have made strides towards being more cat-friendly in the name of serenity--Oatmeal and I have lived together for over 13 years, for heaven's sake, so I had to get over myself or be in a snit that entire time. Even I--Grudge Master of the Universe--find that prospect exhausting.

Oatmeal, for his part, has worked on me patiently and persistently, to the extent where I now pick him up a time or two each day, just to say hello.

No small thing, that.

But he also poops behind the furnace, throws up on rugs (never hard surfaces) with regularity, shreds our worldly goods to bits, and knocks over water glasses every chance he gets, so living with him has had its downsides, too.

The reality is, the little guy is dying, so all the downsides have to be put aside for the time being. Every living creature deserves to be treated as humanely as possible when facing the great What's Next, so we're going to keep him going until it's clear he doesn't want to go any more. Butler did a good job of letting us know he was done--here's hoping Oatie does too.

And once Oatmeal goes, we won't be a cat family any more. Am a little sad about that for no good reason--I'm allergic, remember?--but Oatmeal is the sort of cat who can inspire devotion despite irritation, bless his heart.

Which reminds me of a number of people I know, come to think, but that's a topic for another day.