Tofu Dog

One week ago today, our beloved Higgins passed away.  And our lives will never be the same.  I cannot believe a week in time has actually passed by.  I am grateful that the pain is easing with each passing day, yet I hope to never forget the moments with our sweet, mischievous, ornery, intelligent, talkative cat child we named Finley Higgins “Danger” Turquette. 

We only had 3 1/2 years with our sweet boy.  Though he lived a fraction of the life span of the average cat, he lived it fully.  I cannot properly convey how much he enhanced and permeated every facet of our lives. 

Last Wednesdsay,  I had treated the afternoon like any other day…almost, with Higgins ever in my thoughts.  Errands were tended to and I helped a friend with the design of his space, met Mike for dinner, and then promptly went home…telling myself that since I had left our boy to sleep in peace without me home, he would surely be more well rested and more like himself once we arrived from our long day out.  He had been hiding away to sleep more often than not the days prior and he had grown noticeably weaker.  Before I left, I found him wedged between some of Mike’s shoes in his closet…closing the door part way to shield him from the day’s rays, I left him after nuzzling the top of his head for a minute.  He looked exhausted yet managed to raise his head to acknowledge me.

Once we came home, Mike and I immediately began calling out to our boy.  It was customary for him to sit perched at the top of the stairs, waiting for us once he heard the commotion of the garage door.  Since he had not been doing this the past couple of days, we went looking for him.  We checked all of his normal spots, under the chair in the guest room, the back of the chair in the office, his Taj Mahal inspired kitty bed, in our bedroom closet, looking out the hallway window, etc…..we could not find him anywhere….the rare times when he would be too comfortable to not crawl out from his space, we could at least always find him….but this time was different because he seriously could not be found.  Panic was setting in and we split up…Mike stayed on the third level and I searched downstairs.  Finally, Mike called out to me….he had found him in the guest bath tub of all places…the cold, unforgiving hard tub…He must have been burning up to seek such a place out. 

That Tuesday before, his normal incessant begging for treats had ceased altogether.  I cooked him chicken breast, beef, proffered every variety of delectable treat to him yet he was simply uninterested.  He eventually managed a few bites of food but not enough to count.  All he cared for was water….bowls of every size were placed all around our place, on each level of our town home, to accommodate his wishes.  We carried him around like the Great Sphinx, careful to avoid placing any pressure on his sensitive stomach. His meows grew haggard and hoarse and guttural. 

Once Higgins was carried downstairs, we tried to entice him with food.  Knowing it was futile after a while, we sat in the office in the dark, Higgins at our feet with a water bowl at his side, and uttered the words we had known for a while were knocking at our door.  “It’s time.” 

Higgins was quiet….appreciating the darkness and our company.  Mike placed him on his lap where he immediately snuggled in for a doze.  Caressing him, we talked to him and reminisced about all the amazing and crazy and outlandish things that kept us on our toes since we brought him into our home 3 1/2 years earlier.  We laughed about how he had tightrope walked the length of our loft ceiling’s ventilation ducts earning him his middle name of “Danger”.  His propensity for stealing licks of my hot tea, of how he managed to push open any cracked doors because he hated to be left out.  His picky nature, his utmost trust in me when I carried him around like a baby or over my shoulder, how he never accepted “NO” and would then turn around and do exactly what you told him not to do…just to show you who was boss. 

We took him to bed with us that night, expecting him not to stay with us in lieu of one of his hiding places….Yet, he stayed with us and immediately laid down, water bowl at the ready. 

Once Mike fell asleep, snoring in full force, it was just Higgins and me….lying there staring at each other.  Inching ever closer, he eventually rested his chin on the top of my hand and dozed off as I cooed sweet nothings to him and thanked him for being the greatest cat ever.  It was at this point that I knew Higgins knew…that he was giving us the greatest last gift of sleeping with us one last time, even through Mike’s sawing logs. 

I eventually dozed off myself only to be awakened by Higgins’ woeful meows.  He was in pain and after repositioning himself, he quieted down.  Mike stirred awake and we checked the time.  It was 6:30 at this point and our alarms were about to go off.  Once again, on the very last morning spent with our Higgins, he managed to wake us up.  Our little alarm clock.  Almost robotic-like, Mike and I hurried out of bed and threw on our clothes.  Mike called the vet to let them know we wanted in asap and they obliged, saying they had one slot open…the first one at 8 am.  Relief rushed over us as if everything seemed to align.  Surprisingly, instead of wallowing in our pain, we were so focused on what we had to do, we remained calm for Higgins.  It was the strangest sensation of joy and sorrow.

Higgins protested only slightly when I placed him in his carrier.  Once in, he laid down tucking his legs and paws under him as I had seen him do endless times before.  I carefully carried him down the stairs to the second level stairwell window where I always paused for him to take in the view.  He looked out the window with unbridled curiosity. 

Once in the car, I elevated him up so he could watch the passing cars and scenery rush by.  He seemed to relish this.  He seemed like his old self. 

The drive to Los Gatos was a blur.  Carrying him in his carrier against my chest, we walked in.  The assistant greeted us from afar and once I made eye contact with her, my face crumpled up like a wad of paper.  “I’m so sorry” she said and showed us the room.

Opening the back door of the carrier, Higgins remained lying down with his mouse toy and green rubber ball cupped within his arms.  He was at that moment, the most picturesque sight to behold…Elegantly poised, toys in his arms, gaze directed toward the door…..and this is how the Vet tech was welcomed….and secretly, a wave of pride rushed over me.  He had a knack for reassuring me and affirming the last minute decision to include his toys on this trip….Even in his last stage of life, he was a gloriously good looking cat.  Gray luxurious double coat, huge ochre yellow eyes, petite angular pixie face and lithe lean body.  For being an adult aged cat, he was tiny.  On a diet of premium cat food and an exorbitant amount of treats, it was a victory in itself for him to ever push 7lbs. 

Once the vet came in, she respected our request to do a final exam and only reaffirmed that it was indeed time.  Higgins as always, acted remarkably well when  handled by the many vets and techs and specialists he’s encountered over the years.  Every vet and cat sitter we have ever had has fallen in love with him.  Vets have waived sedation due to his cooperative nature.  Now this isn’t to say he hasn’t rushed off to burrow behind me or under my scarf the minute an exam was over, but this time, he stayed put even after the exam.  I believe he had resigned himself to this moment and was staying calm for us. 

Our last private moment with him was quick.  They had inserted his i.v. and brought him back wrapped in a towel situated on top of a warm water bed of sorts.  He looked absolutely comfortable and relaxed.  The buttercup yellow towel playing well off his gray hair.  He looked the most at peace than we had seen him in many days.

Then we said goodbye as Mike wrapped his arms around him and I cupped his sweet face in my hand and nuzzled the top of his head. 

Driving home, few words were exchanged.  The feeling of emptiness overtaking us.  Taking in the scenery of the lush trees around me, I noticed very little else.  As we made our way under a bridge where some train tracks lie, Mike called out to look up where street art of a fluffy kitty cat with angel wings came into view!  Scrambling for my camera, we passed before I was able to grab a picture, but its image will be forever engrained in my mind.  Higgins was reassuring us one last time that everything is going to be alright.

Lifestyle…no question.

That is, in the debate of Lifestyle v. Material Wealth?  This is a dilemma I am sure many people have had to grapple with anytime they face the possibility of a move to another part of the country, continent or world, where the cost of living is significantly higher and dramatic from the way of life they are accustomed to. 

When Mike and I decided to accept a transfer with his job from very affordable Texas to the other-worldly more expensive California….we had an idea of what we were in for, to an extent.  Granted, the research and web-o-sphere findings on what it actually takes to live at the same level as we had in Dallas, was a little daunting, but we were mentally and emotionally prepared for it.  Any opportunity to live in a part of the country where the sea, mountains, forests and desert are accessible within a few hours drive, was just too irresistible to our nature-loving hearts.  So what if our place is a little more run-down than usual, with less square feet and no pool? 

The fact that we are spending less time inside, plugged in to our technology and television set meant that we were spending that much more time outside, taking in almost 365-day-a-year miraculous weather and the adventures and multiplicity of activities a place such as the Bay Area spills forth. 

I mean, outside of the first month and a half when I was car-less, preoccupied with finding a place, stuck in not-so-fun corporate housing and then unpacking our lives into our new rental we actually decided upon, we really had little chance to experience the area fully.  Yet now that the major unpacking and settling in have commenced, we are actually missing normal weekends to catch up on housework, errands and the like.  The other weekend, Mike and I were exchanging comments such as, “Oh, soo glad to be home this weekend….not setting my alarm…etc..”  We already have a designated “cat sitter” on speed dial for the weekends we have been away!  (Read Cat, Interrupted).

In less than three months, we have backpacked up a glorious mountain range dramatic enough to have “Alps” in its name…permafrost sprinkling the pointy tops and everything…., we have car camped in serene Tahoe, sailed on a 45-foot boat in the San Francisco Bay, ferried across the bay in a huge ship, navigated the sinuous streets of S.F. on foot, trekked up the windy path to Golden Gate Bridge, wined and dined our way through Napa…Oh, and just finished a glorious camping excursion to the beach to camp all weekend, just to name a few things…

Oh, I have not even mentioned the fabulous fare of ethnic cuisine, quality produce and abundance of celebrity chef owned eateries around here?  It’s like a foodie’s paradise concentrated in the best part of CA!  I’m not a foodie but the food is good enough to write home about for sure. 

There is no denying…this place is seriously expensive….Our rent is the amount of our old place plus both of our car payments combined….(luckily we paid off our cars before coming out here), the estimate to get my car fixed here vs. in Dallas was double the initial quote I received in Big D….and, our pocket books are definitely on a diet. 

Yet…

Unlike in Dallas, to access a Farmer’s Market meant a drive downtown to an okay area where you would not feel safe walking too far outside of its parameters by oneself.  Here, we walk to our local F.M. every Sunday, bags in hand, whistling and enjoying the stroll…  If you go to the F.M. in S.F., the Farmer’s Market serves up absolutely delicious gourmet lunches out of its little booths during the work week….it’s a 9-5ers culinary slice of heaven.  The quality of the produce is amazing and soo delicious and affordable in the Bay Area….the difference is mouth-watering.  And, people do not skimp with it, too!  Needless to say, vegetarians such as myself rarely have issue with finding delectable options at almost any restaurant, hence the name for this blog.

Not swayed yet?

Okay, let’s talk weather.  Mike and I left just in the knick of time in the beginning of June from Dallas and it’s notoriously sweltering summers.  The locals here complain of the heat when it hits the low 90’s….uh, this makes me laugh so much….try the low 100s with a dollop of humidity to go along!  This is the norm during a Texas summer….and, now imagine the low 100s for months on relentless end!  Grin and bear it?  No, try, sweat and bear it and then really bear it, if and when you have the unfortunate luck of your a.c. going on the fritz.  A.C. companies are abundant and in-demand back in Dallas….here, we leave our windows open almost every single summers day.  (Note: In SF proper, it’s a different story).  It took some adjustment our first month here.  When I started to feel guilty for not taking “advantage” of the beautiful 75 degree weather, I had to remind myself that it was really okay if I chose to sit inside on the sofa consuming brainless reality television instead.  It is fine, because, well, we will have more of the same old glorious same tomorrow, too. 

What timing! I’ve been eyeing this dilapidated old warehouse in Japantown since I first saw it a couple of months ago.  Honestly, it’s a real mess….with graffiti and broken glass and who knows how many horrors inside.  Most people would run away and never look back at such an eyesore…forget the money, the work alone would be enough to deter people in the age of turn-key and model homes….Yet, it really has a je ne sais quoi aspect about it with the brick facade and the old 7up sign out front.  The interior designer in me can envision this place as a reno project-turned dream home-come true….especially if you could get it for a steal of a price.  It would even be ideal as a multiple home unit or as a combined residential/commercial space. 

Just a few weeks ago, I was googling the address and going to San Jose historical building sites to dig up some information on this place….Not much turned up but I did find out it was a laundry at one time.  Normally on my way home from JTown, I turn on a parallel street to head to our place, but after a few failed attempts inquiring of job openings earlier today, I thought paying a visit to “my warehouse” would cheer me up a bit.

Is this a sign or what?!  I could not help but wonder to myself as I stood in front of the newly installed For Sale sign. (The irony of the question does not escape me…lol)  I decide to call the number on the sign and inquire about the property (What could it hurt?).  There were two names with numbers on the sign and I decide to ring the one named George.  Our convo went something like this:

“This is George,” the man proclaiming to be George, says.

“Hello, I’m inquiring about the sale of the 7up warehouse in Japantown.”

“Aww, yes, that property includes the white building to the left, the warehouse and the building to the right…..trails off….”

Ok, how much??? This is all I really want to know but ya know, I can’t show my hand yet….

“How much are the owners asking?” 

“It’s going for a little under a mil.”

Gulp.  A measly mil….heart deflates and my dream of staining concrete and knocking down walls are over within a second.  I would more than expect at least 50k on top of this just to make the place barely inhabitable…

Ok, Diane, act as if a million freaking greenbacks is a drop in the bucket and do not let on that you are utterly disappointed…

“Is it possible to purchase the warehouse by itself and not the other buildings?”

3 buildings, with the warehouse probably being the most desirable of the three…and the land probably the most valuable….I’d estimate it is worth 400k on its own, and the other two let’s say 200k each…and the land..another 200k….worst case scenario….???

“Not at this time….you could always knock down the other two buildings if you like.”

Heart sinks further.

“True, true.  Well, thanks for your time.”

“Sure.”

Click.

I must have been standing in a daze in front of the building for a while because I didn’t even notice the sharply dressed Asian man pull up in his very expensive looking black car in front of the warehouse.  I hear him say hello…and turning to address him, I awkwardly ask him if he was speaking to me until I notice the cell phone glued to his ear….He’s glancing at me with curiosity. 

Looking over my attire, I have to say the situation was pretty comical.  I’m dressed for job hunting and I’m clutching a portfolio in my hand.  If I do say so myself, I think I looked pretty official…I could definitely pass for a realtor at least….

The man leaves and I turn to head home….a few paces out, I turn back to take one more good look at my dream home in its current state before my competition decides to tear down the building and build in its place a strip club or something….Ok, perhaps I’m being a bit cynical….but seriously, Japantown does not need one more sushi restaurant, gift shop, market or salon…so what could this man possibly want with this place?!  As I’m taking a few more shots with my camera phone, I look over my shoulder and notice said stranger in his power suit never left!  He’s sitting in his luxury cruiser watching me as I idly pace back and forth in front of the building….

Maybe he’ll think I’m a truly serious buyer and after sizing me up, he will decide he is not in the mood for a potential bidding war with the likes of me and give up on this place with very little consequence….He’ll then use his abundant cash flow to knock down some other historical properties elsewhere until all of San Jose and the surrounding areas are littered with charmless, cookie-cutter buildings and factories which produce nothing more than millions of dollars worth of plastic bags….How do these absurd thoughts go through my head?  Oh, and why do I feel compelled to share any of these thoughts with all of you….

Oh well, finally leaving for good this time, I turn on my heel toward the home which is not actually “mine to call home” lamenting over the outrageous real estate prices in this lovely land of California, even for absolute dumps such as my warehouse……

The few times we’ve made it out to San Fran have been utterly amazing.  I have been told on many occasions throughout my life that I would just LUUUVVV San Francisco and that I must, must visit…. Well, now that I am living a stone’s throw away from SF proper, I, too, understand and have digested the kool-aid.  I mean, who doesn’t love living in a postcard everyday? 

So, we have not checked off all of the tourist-y, new-to-the-city attractions off our list quite yet…and, at the rate we are going, it may never happen….but I will say that the things we have done so far have been noteworthy. 

Our first spontaneous trek to S.F. was a drive through downtown area and then we made our way to the Golden Gate Bridge…..ah hem….on a Saturday.  Note to all of you readers who would love to live vicariously through me….let me make the newbie mistakes and do not follow suit.  A few lessons I’ve learned thus far:

1) Avoid the Bay Bridge at all costs during peak traffic times, including weekends.

2) If you absolutely must take the Bay Bridge (say you have people in visiting and this is the only time to do your stuff, then…..)  Make sure you have plenty of gas and even some to spare.  We were stuck for 2 hours (that was not a type-o)…@2 freaking hours waiting for the Bay Bridge Toll Plaza’s antiquated system to let all of us dummies through, the whole while seriously sweating it because we were on E.

3) When trekking up the beautiful trails to take in the breathtaking vistas of the Golden Gate Bridge from the naval gun battery post….ah hem….don’t wear your cute peep-toed flats.  Wear something sensible, but since this was a very spontaneous decision on our parts, I’ll give myself some slack.  Every pebble and speckle of dirt that made it between my toes kinda tainted the hike for me and I screamed tourist, I’m afraid. 

4)  Take a windbreaker in San Fran.  Brrrr….We were forewarned that S.F. is windier and chillier than expected, but people were not kidding.  There were moments I seriously had to hold onto a gate as I was taking the GGB sights in.  I have the film footage to prove it.  (Oh, and also, the fact that my skirt was revolting like a tent in the winds didn’t help matters, either…oh, perhaps this should be a lesson, too….well, in windy conditions such as these, your hemline flapping in your face is not attractive).

5)  Alas, if you only remember one thing from this post, it should be this.  Cash is your friend (including change for meters - keep a bag in your glove compartment).  It seems like many NoCal (using local lingo, hehe) eateries and retailers don’t take too kindly to plastic…and if you do use your card, you’ll often have a minimum purchase.  I suppose I don’t blame them considering what we’ve heard in the news of late….I can not tell you how many times Mike has craved an Oreo Twister from our neighborhood Foster’s Freeze….changed from his sweat shorts, even, to make this late night snack destination, only to come home with a Root beer Float for me as well.  Don’t get me wrong, I love these RB floats, but that’s the problem in and of itself.  I let him go solo because I do not want to be tempted by the $99 goodness which is a Fosters Freeze Root beer float….but, I inevitably did my part and of course, waste not want not….I devour that darn thing eh-va-ry-time. Yummy…just writing about it is enough….what time is it?  Oh, whew…they’re closed. 

Well, that’s it folks…these are a few lessons to keep in mind before you make the Bay Area your vacation spot of choice.  Until the next lesson learned….which I fear will be sooner than later  :)

So, my fiance, Mike and I, with cat in-tow, made it out to northern CA…mostly unscathed.  Mike and I fared well but…let’s just say our cat, a.k.a. Higgins, undoubtedly lost one or two of his nine lives during the process. I’m banking on luck that he has a few to spare. 

Higgins was none too happy by the funky smells of each new motel room, strange highway noises and most of all, being confined in a cage in the back of the not-so-luxurious cruiser otherwise known as an Xterra. Preparations were made on his behalf to keep the discomfort level minimal but all the thought that went into planning his temporary housing was soon disregarded.  We outfitted him with the super deluxe penthouse suite-of-a-cage and provided every flavor of his favorite all-natural treats, cat nip, and toys.  It did not matter.  He ain’t no fool and if you are accustomed to 5 Star accommodations it’s hard to downgrade a couple of stars. 

The first day, I thought we were literally going to watch him exhaust himself to death with the level of woeful meows he produced, each one becoming progressively louder and drawn out with each road kill marker we passed.  What first started as a quietly protestful “mar” evolved into a 2 second pathetically whiney “meeeeeeoooooowaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr”.  It was heartbreaking, really.  It made me think of that scene from Space Balls when Princess Vespa is locked up in that jail cell and in her deepest baritone, sings the most pathetic rendition of “Noooboody Knooows….” to herself, with no one to listen.

In our case, however, we could not help but listen.  Turning up the radio wasn’t going to cut it…so, we did what every self-respecting, cat parents would do….We let him out….eh hem, out of his cage, so he could roam wild and free like the untamed pussy cat he is.  (Do you blame us?) Needless to say, we received a few double-takes as passing cars would ask themselves if indeed they just saw a cat peering out at them from the passenger window…..Yep, if he was gray, half smiling/half scowling at you and headed west on Route 66, then he’s our cat. (Check out the picture below).

You have to understand that this singular cat is not accustomed to being caged or confined by any stretch of the imagination.  Coming from a loft, no ceiling beams were too daunting, no cabinet doors impenetrable and no leap too wide.  Let’s just say he didn’t earn his middle name of “Danger” from grooming himself bald. 

Following his release from jail, Higgins gradually grew more comfortable with the whooshing lights and flashes of the oncoming semis.  He found a few key spots in the car, one at the highest vantage point above our stacked suitcases, ideal for taking in the sights.  The middle console was perfectly sized as a third seat for him up front with us, too.  He and our sanity thanked us for his early release with beautiful, underrated silence.

Now that Mike and I have been here a few weeks, our cat child seems to be adjusting pretty well, considering.  We think he’s officially over the trauma.  If only he knew that we just signed a lease and will be uprooting his world yet once again this weekend after finally adjusting to our corporate housing.  If my count is correct, I think he’ll have like 3 or 4 lives left after everything is said and done……but, who’s counting?