Discussing Death with George ClooneyMy cat had to be put down recently. She went to sleep on my lap after having green liquid injected into her front right paw. She was 11, had FIV all of her life and finally succumbed to cancer of the liver. She now lies buried in my garden under a quite grand rock.
My grandfather died the following day. He was 92, suffered from chronic pomposity and finally succumbed to something along the lines of old age. He hadn't recognised me since 1976 and should've been given the option of the green liquid some time ago. He remains on ice as everyone waits for his oldest son to return from an overseas trip which he ain't planning on cutting short.
Frankly, I'm much more upset about the cat.
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38 comments:
Bob there's so much I need to say.
1. Is that really you and Georgeous?
2. Sorry about your cat (maybe that should have been number 1.)
3. Your grandfather hadn't recognised you since 1976? Really? Or is that writerly exaggeration? How so? Why? And all that.
4. Sorry about your cat. Really.
Actually it doesn't look like you. It looks like Our Perseus.
I'm sorry to hear about your loss, Bob. At the very least, I imagine that the green liquid was a little bit more pleasant than a bullet or a broken neck.
But I know where you're coming from with your grandfather. I still miss my old dog more than I ever missed mine. Then again, there's probably a lot of things I miss more than granddad. I remember the funeral being kind of awkward because nobody could think of anything nice to say about him. Everyone was just glad he was gone.
I'm sorry about your cat, Bob. I sometimes think non-verbal companionship is the best kind: no bullshit.
My son is largely non-verbal and I'd rather spend eternity with him than, well, than most.
Sorry about your cat, dude.
One of the saddest moments of my life is when we had to put a cat of mine down when I was in high school. I still miss her. I'm really sorry about your cat, Bob. My two cats are not allowed outside (we live on a main road), and I'm always fearful of them escaping and getting run over. I would be devastated. I love those furry little critters so much.
I'm sorry about your grandad, too. He did live a pretty long life though.
Very sorry about your cat LB.
Sorry about the cat. The green dream will hopefully be available to us all one day. Of course we as a society can't be trusted with that.
There's a suggestion of Andrew Peacock, and a hint of polypi suckers goin' on with George's mouth.
You can have my cat, Bob.
She has a serious personality disorder though.
I wonder if George Clooney has a cat?
*ahem*
I also have a couple of spares, dude.
I wonder if George Clooney has a cat?
...................... Ramon, do you want me to say it? Do ya?
Come again, Catlick?
...well I bet he gets plenty of pussy... boom tish
Of course.
How silly of me not to have seen that one coming.
It kinda looks like me, but in ten years' time, and after eating a very sour lolly.
I hope it's not me. I don't think it is, but I might be wrong.
I thought you'd met all sorts of famous peoples, Persey.
The Danish model for one. You might have met George.
Thank you all for you condolences. For the cat. She is missed.
Melba, that is indeed me (on the right). And I look nothing like Perseus. Nor does George who, by the way, I found a little two dimensional on that particular evening.
And to answer your point 3, you're not supposed to ask about writerly exaggeration. Do you know how long it took for me to decide on 1976. I felt it was the funniest sounding year.
George who, by the way, I found a little two dimensional on that particular evening.
I thought something looked off about his head.
Wow, it doesn't look like you Bob. And it has to be the worst photo in existence of Clooney. I can't believe I am (sort of) one degree of separation away from him.
And hah about 1976. It was an ace year for me. Form One, treads, Crystal Cylinder surfwear and skateboards.
I reckon that Clooney cut-out has a touch of the Malcolm Turnbull about him. Were you gate-crashing some Liberal function, Bob? Sneaking a bit of vodka in the Conservative fruit-punch? Nice work!
Poor cat. Poor pops.
Poor Clooney.
it doesn't look like you Bob
It was a little while ago. Further, the photo was taken on someone's cheap, dodgy phone which makes everyone lose a dimension.
1976 for me was prep.
And Kettle, I strenuously deny attending anything even remotely large 'L' Liberal, and I wouldn't want to put vodka in their punch for fear of them having a good time.
Have you filled out a bit since that photo was taken, Bob? I'm trying to think back to that short film and that other photo you posted.
I was -6 in 1976.
When I first saw that photo, I thought it looked like George. Then I looked again, and I was convinced it wasn't him. There's something not right about his face. But perhaps just because it was taken a while ago, and is blurry, and he's clearly mid-talk.
His face looks flat, Puss. That's what gives it that Turnbull sort of quality.
Bob is still hot.
The standee is not.
Sorry to hear about your grandfather.
My maternal grandfather was a complete arsehole, and he has not been missed by anyone in the family since his demise circa 1986.
The loss of your beloved feline friend, on the other hand, brings me to tears and reminds me all too much of the fragility of life and that one day my own little pussycat will depart. I plan on taking bereavement leave, and if anyone questions its validity, I will happily poke them in the eye with a barge pole.
Vale Bob's Pussy.
I had a cat once. We named him Yoni. Few people understood.
What's that? Greek for dog or something?
And thanks everyone for making me feel pretty fucking old.
Which I guess I am.
Which I guess is my own fault for saying it on here.
-6?
Oh fuck off!
Melba, Yoni is vagina* (pussy, geddit?) in some Asian language; Indian I think.
*The literal translation is "heavenly passage" or "source of life" or something, but you get the gist.
Don't worry Melba, I'm old in spirit.
And thanks everyone for making me feel pretty fucking old.
Sweat Thee not Fair Melba.
When I see comments from Lewd Bob saying "I was in Prep in 1975", I just smile and remember that in 1974 I got my first blow job in the back seat of Marlene Dietrich's Rolls Royce.
In all of human history, our formative years occured at time when both sex and drugs where at their most affordable, and the music wasn't bad either.
Did you used to pinch cars when you were a teenager, Mr E?
But yeah, you shouldn't be concerned about your age Melba. As long as you've got your marbles and everything still works, what difference does it make? Also, provided you've kept yourself in decent condition and nothing unforeseen happens, you should have a good 30+ years left in you. That's not anything to be sneezed at.
When I see comments from Lewd Bob saying "I was in Prep in 1975"
I wasn't gloating, after all, I turn 40 this year. It was merely a statement of fact.
And there's plenny younger then me here. I'd say I was in the older half.
I just smile and remember that in 1974 I got my first blow job in the back seat of Marlene Dietrich's Rolls Royce.
Since Marlene was over 70 at the time, I'm hoping she removed her false teeth.
I wasn't even a twinkle in my dad's eye in 1975.
But I'm pretty sure I'm not the youngest here.
I reckon that Clooney cut-out has a touch of the Malcolm Turnbull about him.
Noooo! You have ruined George for me
How could you do that?
Lewd, sorry about your cat
Sorry Squib, it was a quiet day here at Casa de Kettle.
Hey, how was your holiday?
Hiya Kettle, see kraken post
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