Despair and Delight

Yesterday a friend invited me to share her free tickets to see the musical Cabaret. I jumped at the offer, and we went to the Golden Gate Theater last night. The production very movingly presented the rise of the Nazi party and its anti-Semitism. The company did a wonderful job of making me feel horrible. I disliked all the characters, and hated that period of history. The final tableau of a death camp prisoner wearing a yellow star and a pink triangle left me thoroughly bummed out - sad and angry and ashamed to be human.

Then I drove us home. When we turned up Hyde Street, we saw City Hall, all lit up in rainbow colors. My jaw dropped and the car stopped, fortunately not too far from a red light. After we turned the corner onto McAllister, my friend suggested we pull to the curb to admire the view. So we did.

The illuminated building was so very beautiful. There was a layer of lights at the street level, another layer at the base of the dome, and other lights at the very top of the dome. They changed very slowly, as if the spectrum was gradually playing over City Hall.

The beauty of the display was like a beacon of hope in the darkness. We could feel the colors entering our eyes and skin; they came into our open mouths and we tasted them. We were nourished, and warmed, and inspired by the profound and magical beauty of those glorious colors against the stone building and night sky. We felt their textures and inhaled their aromas, and just drank them in with total awe and gratitude. I was moved to exclaim, "God bless the City and County of San Francisco!"

That was quite a palate-cleanser.

The End of Einstein

Last month I learned from the veterinary oncologist that my cat Einstein had weeks to months before his life would become more of a burden than a boon.

So I decided to make his last weeks as pleasant as I could make them. The vet suggested I cook for him, but prescribed suitable canned food after I told him I don't even cook for myself. So I provided him with the prescription food (of great flavor and calorie count) and other flavors of moist, stinky canned food for his eating pleasure.

Last week, I brought home some salmon from my breakfast, and he galloped across the kitchen to investigate that new scent. He was still sunning himself on the back stairs that week.

This week, however, he stopped galloping and secreted himself in a hiding place under the desk in the back hall.

I called a friend to help me decide if it was time, and she urged me to call a vet. The vet took one look at Einstein and suggested that he had reached a state where euthanasia was a good medical decision. So that's what we did this afternoon.

Lots of religious texts came to my mind, all Christian in source.

First, the Nunc Dimittis: Lord, now lettest Thou thy servant depart in peace, according to Thy Word.

Then, Requiescat in pacem. May he rest in peace.

And finally, I played a recording of Benjamin Britten's Rejoice in the Lamb in his honor, because of a solo that I sang in a performance long ago, as follows: For I will consider my cat Jeffrey, for he is a servant of the living God, duly and daily serving God. For at the first glance of the glory of God in the East he worships in his way. For this is done by wreathing his body seven times 'round with elegant quickness. For he knows that God is his savior. For God has blessed him in the variety of his movements. For there is nothing sweeter than his peace when at rest. For I am possessed of a cat, surpassing in beauty, from whom I take occasion to bless Almighty God.