Friday, June 30th, at 6:30 pm, Christopher was pronounced ~ by a very sweet veterinarian ~ to be “at rest.” Very nicely put. I don’t know who was the bigger bag of blubber, me or Frank. Actually, I think I won the gold.
We retired with a bottle of plonk to Frank and Anthony’s apartment to dispose of Christopher’s accoutrements ~ nothing like cleaning out kitty litter after the kitty has departed this world... poor Frankie. Anthony took it all in stride. After all, if you want to be brutally real, he’d had to “put his mother down” in November. And, the day that Frank had made the decision (um, the appointment) Tilly had put his 95-year-old grandmother in her grave and responded to Frank’s tear-stained news with hilarious laughter. Still, Christopher was Frank’s companion for more than 18 years, so Anthony cooed sympathetically as best he knew how.
Naturally, we went out ~ Mi Linda Yucatan, the boy’s home away from home, received us warmly and promptly ponied up a pitcher of sangria. Frank only burst into sobs once over dinner and I’m not entirely sure it was caused by the cat. By the end of our meal, the restaurant had filled with cute gay couples… even more heartbreaking when you’re sick of being single.
In for a penny, we spent a pound ~ or two ~ at the Abbey Tavern, whose Sangria is very tasty, if I say so myself. Unfortunately, they were at the bottom of the barrel so we switched thereafter to French Martinis ~ not to be recommended, but being a Friday night wake, whatyagonnado?
Between bouts of pinball, Frank declared “I killed my cat.” At which point, I’d pat his back and nod to the bartender, “Yup, we’ll have another round.”
It will come as no surprise then, when I tell you that 3 in the morning found us gathered in the kitchen to watch Anthony sheer off Frank’s hair. After all what better time to make decisions about your looks than when your 'tired and emotional'. Not that with Anthony as a hairdresser Frank was ever in danger of having a f***ed-up do, and, if this blogger can get it together, I’ll post the video (but don’t hold your breath). As I write, my poor Mac is slogging away in the background compressing a 12-minute documentary for the Web. If only I could afford more RAM, but that’s another tale of woe.
Now Frankie is in Dublin, and tomorrow London, so hopefully the change is easing the pain. As for me, I’ve been giving my own cat extra attention, ‘cos who knows when the day will come and it will be my turn.
Meanwhile, the country celebrated Independence Day. Needless to say, San Francisco was shrouded in fog. With Frankie jetting his way across the pond, Anthony and his hot boyfriend, Robert, and I went to our friends, Nick and Lawrence’s, annual barbeque. Those two hotties live in the Excelsior where the sun shone upon us even as the afternoon wind kicked up. Gracious hosts always, we stuffed our faces with endless treats from the barbie accompanied by Lawrence’s trademark punch.
The boys and I were going to go dancing but got too comfy back at my place, where I had insisted we go so that I could put on black for the evening.
Instead, I introduced them to the flow of chi via my chi-machine and we watched Blade Trinity on DVD… such an elegant combo, don't ya think:-)